“It’s just a small scrape,” he pronounced. “But you’ll want to wash it good.”
His fingers flexed ever so slightly, then left a trail of tingles down her calf before he pulled away and stood in front of her again.
Surprised by his doctorly advice, she murmured a soft, “I will. Thanks.”
He nodded. He looked ready to say something, but again, his gaze focused behind her.
What the heck was wrong with her house? She glanced back with a frown, but didn’t see smoke or anything else to set off alarm bells. When she turned back, her neighbor was already at the curb, scooping his water bottle up off the ground to head back across the street.
“Don’t forget to fill in that hole,” he instructed over his shoulder, his tone brusque. “Someone could break a leg.”
So much for an apology. What the hell?
She glared after his back for a frustrated moment before lifting the realty sign. After plunking it against the front of her garage, she covered the hole with a large rock from her landscaping until she could find some dirt to fill it in later, then went inside to wash the scrape on her leg.
Finally, she transferred her simmering hostility for the man across the street to the boxes in her living room. While setting up her kitchen, she went over both meetings with the testy photographer in her head. She still didn’t even know his name, for heaven’s sake.
He may have confused the hell out of her, but she wasn’t some naïve little virgin. No way she’d only imagined the sexual chemistry zinging between them. The air practically crackled with electricity whenever their eyes met. Yet, each time she would’ve encouraged him, he’d stepped back and put distance between them. Lots of distance.
“You’re Honor Hartman?”
Yes, she was, damn it, and what was wrong with that? They’d never met before last night—she damn sure would’ve remembered meeting him—so what was his problem? By his own admission, he loved her cakes, so that couldn’t be the issue. And her apparent relationship with Sam didn’t cover the surprised dismay in his voice when he confirmed her name.
Maybe he knew someone she’d gone out with? Someone who’d received the brush off? Some guys gossiped as much as women did, so it wasn’t a totally crazy idea that he could’ve heard her name at some point. What was crazy though, was after running into him last night, she found out they were neighbors this morning.
Setting the box in her arms on the island counter, she rested her hands on the open flaps. Hmm—maybe that was the issue. Maybe he knew her name from the real estate agent. In that case, his brush off would be understandable. Prudent, even. Because, really, no matter how hot the attraction, a fling with the guy across the street from her brand new home would be stupid when she planned to be here much longer than any relationship would last.
Disappointment filled her sigh as she dug into the box to get back to work.
She was unpacking the last box of kitchenware when her cell phone rang shortly after one p.m. Swiping it off the counter, Honor glanced at the caller ID before answering and turning on the speaker.
“Hey, Jim…how’s it going?”
“I’m freaking out.”
She rolled her eyes at the phone and unwrapped a plate before reaching for another. “Try to relax. You’ve got a whole week yet.”
“Not anymore. I’ve decided to do it tonight, and I need to see you right away.”
She faced the phone, a plate in each hand. “Wait, slow down. Tonight?”
Geez. First Bryan yesterday, now Jim today? Had the stars somehow mystically aligned to make this the perfect weekend to propose, or were her clients trying to drive her crazy?
“Yes, tonight.”
“But I’ve got your tickets for the Rockies next Saturday, and
the jumbotron guy knows to display the question in the seventh inning stretch.”
Not terribly original, but Jim’s girlfriend was a baseball fanatic, and he’d insisted she’d love it. Especially when the flowers, chocolate, and champagne arrived after she said yes.
“Heidi’s parents invited us to some ballet in Denver next Saturday. I couldn’t say no without her suspecting something.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders drooped as she set the plates on the counter. “That is a monkey wrench.”
“Yeah.”
Bracing her palms on the kitchen island, Honor frowned out the window, her mind racing. “I’ll tell you what, give me a few minutes to make some calls, and I’ll see what I can do.”