To Claim His Own

So what was he doing counting the days until he could return to the nursery?

Four

“Ms. Jenkins, this is a disaster. Plain and simple.”

And you’re a bitch. Now where had that ugly thought come from? Emma asked herself, appalled at the direction her mind had taken. Granted, Sally Sue Landrum was a pain in the rear, but she hadn’t earned the title of bitch. Not yet, anyway.

“No, it’s not a disaster, Sally,” Emma rebutted with all the patience she could muster. “I told you I’d have your landscaping finished today, and I intend to keep that promise.”

Sally pursed her full lips, placed her hands on her tiny waist and glared at Emma. “That won’t happen without plants.”

“I’ll get the plants.” Emma’s tone held conviction, even though she wasn’t sure she could follow through, which would indeed be a disaster.

She didn’t take many private jobs because her daddy kept her so busy with his projects. But there had been a lull in her business right now, so when her friend Sally had called and practically begged her to landscape the grounds of her new multi-million dollar home, Emma had said yes.

Actually, she’d been thrilled, seeing a home as something different, and as a challenge. At the moment, with Sally glaring at her, she was beginning to rue the day she’d taken the job.

Dammit, the supplier had told her just yesterday the plants she’d ordered would be in. So far, that hadn’t come to fruition. She’d called other suppliers, but none could fill her need. To make matters worse, Sally was having a big open house to show off her new mansion, which put that much more pressure on Emma.

“Sally, go back inside and do whatever it is you do,” Emma said into the hostile silence, “and let me handle things on this end.” She paused and forced a smile. “Please.”

Sally was having no part of Emma’s smile; that was apparent by the tightening of her lips. “You’re my friend, Emma. You of all people, I thought I could count on.”

“You can.” Emma’s tone was terse. “Again, just leave me alone and let me do my job. Everything will be all right.”

“It had better be.”

With that, Sally flounced around and marched back into the mansion, slamming the door behind her. Emma breathed for the first time since she’d been accosted by her friend and client, then reached for her cell phone and dialed her main supplier.

“Fred, this is—”

“I know who it is.”

“Have my plants come in yet?”

“Yes, praise the Lord.”

Emma wilted on the spot, the relief washing through her was so acute.

“Thank you, Fred.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Why not?”

“Thank Bubba McBride. He’s the one responsible.”

“Oh?” she said inanely, her heart pounding slightly harder, which was crazy. Even the man’s name had an effect on her. This foolishness had to come to an end.

“He volunteered to go after them, and I told him to hit the road.”

Following another deep, settling breath, Emma said, “When do you expect him back?”

“He’s on his way to the estate, even as we speak.”

“I owe you, Fred. And Bubba,” she emphasized before snapping her cell shut.

It was then that she heard the squeal of brakes. Whipping around, she watched Bubba bound out of the truck and saunter toward her. She tried not to react to his dark, menacing good looks, but nothing short of another miracle would’ve stopped that.

At the moment, she was fresh out of miracles.

“Hiya,” he said in that low, sexy voice that scraped across her skin like fingernails over a chalkboard. Emma shivered. And that look in his eyes—she couldn’t ignore that either.

For a moment, she stiffened under that gaze, more potent than the sun bearing down on her head. Then her sanity came to her rescue. No matter how captivating he might be—and she couldn’t deny that he was—she wasn’t interested.

Then why was she fixated on the width of his muscled shoulders and the span of his six-pack abs? She dared not look any farther south, already knowing the power he packed there.

“Hi yourself,” she responded but not before swallowing hard, feeling suddenly like a teenager meeting a new beau. God, how corny—and ridiculous. She was a grown woman with a child. Where were her good sense and her pride?

Pulling herself together, Emma wiped the answering smile off her face and said in her most businesslike tone, “I spoke to Fred and he told me what you did. Thanks a lot.”

A mocking smile answered her formality, which merely added to that sexiness he wore like a second skin. And those dimples, they were definitely bad on a woman who was trying to keep her heart out of the equation.

“You’re welcome,” he said, that mocking smile still intact.

“Okay, so you saved my rear,” she added with more punch.

“Glad I could oblige. Now, shall we get down to work?”

Emma gave him a startled look. “I have a crew, Bubba. Besides, I’m sure you have other deliveries to make.”

“Not this afternoon. So put me to work, and we’ll get this job done.”

Though Emma was tempted to argue, she refrained. One thing, another pair of hands would help, and she wanted his company. Hold it, girl, she warned. She was headed for deep waters and if she was not careful, she’d drown. Still…

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Bubba said, jerking her mind back to the moment at hand. “And we’ll have this job done before you can spell Rumpelstiltskin.”

She laughed then. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have a child, remember?”

“Ah, right, you do,” he responded, his tone becoming serious. Then, before anything else could be said, he turned and went about the task of unloading the plants.

A little past mid-afternoon, the biggest part of the grounds were planted. Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this exhausted. Usually, she only supervised, letting her crew do the manual labor. But since Bubba was working like a field hand, she pitched in and did her share of digging and planting.

Surprisingly, she’d enjoyed every minute of it. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to dig in the dirt.

“So, what do you think?” Bubba asked, sidling up to her while wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief from the back pocket of his cutoffs. Although he smelled sweaty, he wasn’t offensive. In fact, she ached to reach for the rag and blot the sweat off herself. Emma cringed at her thoughts.

The effect this man had on her was uncanny and just plain unnerving.