Summer Nights

“No.”

“If only there was a kit, right? Generic house surfaces and finishes. You pick one from column A, two from column B and, voilà, a house.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“A little. But mostly because it’s easy.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled. “Did you build your house?”

“No. I’m renting a charming rambler and it came with things like sinks and appliances. I would love to make some changes, but my landlord doesn’t share my thrill for interior design. He has let me paint the walls a color other than white, which I appreciate.” She grinned. “I confess I love all those decorating shows on TV and I’m the first one to read the home style magazines when they come into the library.”

They paused by a row of food carts. He motioned to the offerings—everything from fresh-squeezed lemonade to cotton candy.

“What would you like?” he asked.

“I’m good.”

He’d been hoping she would get a drink and maybe something to eat. Anything that would cause her to untangle herself from him. Not that he didn’t enjoy her pressed up against him, but that was part of the problem. He enjoyed it too much.

Two boys ran past, nearly bumping into her. Annabelle shifted out of the way, which brought her breasts in direct contact with his chest. He clenched his jaw and did his best not to groan as the sensual burn seared through him.

“Sorry,” she said, stepping away. “I do love the life in this town, but it can get a little crowded during holidays.”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, willing himself to think about granite and tile choices. Anything to keep the blood from pushing south and taking up residence.

“I moved here last year. I got lucky. I was looking to start over and found this job right away.” She glanced at him. “I was married. After my divorce, I wanted to settle somewhere far, far away.”

“Where did you move from?”

“North Carolina.”

“That is far. You don’t have a Southern accent.”

“I grew up in Arizona.”

“How do you like this coast?”

“I love it. There are seasons here. We have snow.” She smiled. “I was a little nervous about learning to drive in the white stuff, but it wasn’t too bad. I have great tires and nerves of steel. Or maybe just a really strong plastic. Either way, I survived. I took my first snowboarding lesson.”

“How was it?”

She laughed. “Horrible. I swear my instructor was twelve and he couldn’t stop laughing at me.”

Shane doubted he was laughing at her. “You’ll do better this year.”

“I hope so.” The humor faded. “I was nervous about starting over, but it’s been good.” She glanced at him from under her lashes. “I understand there’s an ex–Mrs. Shane Stryker in your past.”

“There is.”

“Regrets?”

“About it being over? No. Rachel was a mistake from start to finish. I never should have married her.”

Annabelle came to a stop in front of him. “Wow. Still putting energy into what went wrong?”

“No, but I’m grateful every day to be apart from her.”

“What was she like?”

They were standing less than a foot apart. Everything about her tempted him. If he closed his eyes, he would still be able to picture everything about her. Worse, would be able to hear her laugh—a sound that had become as appealing as the rest of her.

“A disaster.”

Annabelle grinned. “You’re not going to answer the question?”

He paused, then spoke the truth. “She was a lot like you.”

* * *

“MOM’S TALKING ABOUT getting you a wading pool,” Shane said.

One of Priscilla’s ears flickered with interest. “At least you’re talking to me. That’s something.”

The elephant turned her large head toward him, her trunk lightly brushing against his arm, as if reminding him he had no one to blame but himself.

“I know,” he muttered. “I’m the bad guy.”

He hadn’t meant to hurt Annabelle’s feelings the previous day. When he’d said she reminded him of Rachel, her eyes had widened, she’d gone pale, then excused herself and walked away.

“Maybe I should have gone after her.”

Priscilla’s wise expression clearly asked, “You think?”

“But that would have meant catching her.” Stopping her, possibly by putting his hand on her shoulder. Then what? He had a bad feeling that a single touch was all it would take.

It was early, barely after dawn. Shane hadn’t slept much the night before so he’d already been awake when it had been time to get up to take care of the animals. His horses and his mother’s misfit collection of elderly llamas, sheep and Priscilla didn’t much care about his state of mind. They wanted breakfast.

The back door slammed. Shane saw his brother stalking toward him and knew that word had spread.

Rafe came to a stop by the fence line and glared at him. “What the hell?”

“Morning to you, too,” Shane grumbled.

“Heidi and Annabelle are friends.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to hear it. Annabelle’s hurt, Heidi’s pissed and I’m caught in the middle. What did you say to her?”