This morning had not turned out as she’d expected. She had thought that, once again, everyone in town would hail Captain Nice Guy as a great hero. Instead, he was a laughingstock to some and a villain to others. Damn.
How could she have made such a stupid mistake? Funny thing, though. For such a sickly man, Kent appeared to be awfully large and muscular. And he was really heavy when she shoved him up against the pole.
Maybe she needed to work out more.
She’d have to reschedule three appointments the next day in order to spend a long afternoon with a chatterbox lady and a sickly, wheezy computer nerd. Great.
She hoped her lousy night vision monocle would like its new home in the landfill.
Chapter 3
PHAE RELUCTANTLY KNOCKED ON MISS Eugenia’s front door. Maybe she’d get lucky and if she clicked her heels together, the afternoon would be over. Or she’d disappear. Or Miss Eugenia wouldn’t answer the door. Or—
Miss Eugenia opened the door.
“Phae, dear, come in. I’m all ready for you. I know you’re busy, so we’ll go on out to the back yard. Unless you’d like some pie first. Would you like some pie? No, well, I have plenty if you’d like a slice. Rhubarb. And sweet potato. And peach. And blueberry. And, oh I can’t remember them all. Everyone has been so kind, sending over treats to succor poor Kent during his convalescence. Follow me, dear. Right through here.”
Last night, Phae had had a terrible nightmare. She’d been stuck in Miss Eugenia’s parlor sipping a lukewarm, bottomless cup of tea as the elderly woman recited the family history of every person in Zeke’s Bend. Garden implements floated by, an inch out of reach. Whenever Phae tried to grab one, it disappeared, and Miss Eugenia would make her eat another cookie. Pasty-faced, skinny Kent reclined on the sofa cackling like a maniac. “I’ll get that Captain Nice Guy,” he screeched.
She’d woken and sat up straight, her brow damp from sweat. Dumbass nightmare.
While her visit today wasn’t likely to turn into a wonderful outing, it had to be better than her nightmare.
“Here we go, dear,” Miss Eugenia said. “Out the back door. Watch that step. It always takes me by surprise.” She rambled on about how long she’d been living in the house (forty years) and how her father left it to her, and how it was a good thing because she was an old maid and a poor, retired school teacher.
“I never much liked children,” Miss Eugenia added, saying her first interesting thing of the visit. “Kent is the only child I ever liked. And now he’s all grown up.”
She pointed to the rear of her large yard. “There’s my garden, dear. Come along. You should have seen how lovely my flowers were before those ruffians tore it up. I’m not sure how these new plants will fare since it’s already June. Look at that. Terrible sight, isn’t it?”
Phae frowned as she took in the sloppy, crooked rows of wilting plants. “Captain Nice Guy isn’t much of a gardener, is he?”
“It’ll take some work to get it back in shape. But you’re young and strong. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”
Phae nodded, wondering morosely how long the replanting would take. She pasted a smile on her face while Miss Eugenia pointed out where the tools could be found and other information she thought Phae required, like who had built the tool shed and how she was afraid of spiders and how the mealy worms got her roses, etc.
Phae grabbed some tools out of the shed then kneeled down to get started.
The elderly lady settled into a nearby lawn chair. “I’m glad it turned off cool and cloudy today. The weatherman said it will be unseasonably cool for the next couple days. It’s a front from Canada. Or maybe Alaska. Do we get fronts from Alaska? You should have worn gloves, dear. You have to protect your pretty hands if you don’t want callouses. And you don’t, by the way. It’s not ladylike, my mother always said. I think there’s some gloves in the shed. Go fetch them. Right. There you go. A lady must protect her hands. I’m not sure why, but that’s what everyone says, so there must be truth to it.”
Screw the gloves, Phae thought, digging around in the cobwebby shed, wishing she had earplugs instead.
“Can you find them, Phae? Ah, I see. They’re large, aren’t they? They’ll work, though. They probably belong to Kent. Oh … Kent. What’s happening to me? I forgot all about him. He’s still in bed. I’ll be back shortly. Carry on without me.”
Phae watched Miss Eugenia speed across the lawn. For all her complaints, the woman had her spry moments.
The plants lifted easily out of the loose soil. She could probably finish the job in a few hours. She glanced at her watch. If she managed to avoid a dinner invitation, she’d be home by six.
Phae sped up her digging and soon lost herself in the work. She jerked when she heard the bang of the screen door.
She looked up. And her mouth dropped open.
MISS EUGENIA, TINY LADY THAT she was, plodded slowly across the lawn, a giant man draped around her. Phae hid her grin behind the back of her gloved hand.
She couldn’t see Kent’s face because he’d lowered his head, obviously in an attempt to better hear Miss Eugenia’s admonitions to take care and walk slower. He’d bent himself nearly in half in order to wrap both his arms around Miss Eugenia’s thin shoulders.
His aunt had one hand on his waist while the other hand fluttered about to emphasize her warnings. Kent’s rear end bobbed up and down with each mincing step.
They looked like they were involved in the most bizarre hug Phae had ever seen.
“Be careful, Kent. It’s only a few more steps. You can do it. Almost there. Be careful. There’s the chair behind her. Not too fast! You might get dizzy. There … there … there. Ahh.” Miss Eugenia beamed triumphantly.
“We made it,” she burbled. “I knew we would. Now you sit and rest. I know it was a terrible trip. Oh. This is Phae Jones. She’s the one who kindly offered to replant my garden. Phae, this is my darling nephew—”
Miss Eugenia gasped then rushed to Phae’s side. “Oh, my poor dear. Look, Kent … tears! Oh, don’t cry, Phae. He’ll be fine, eventually. Truly. He’s just weak. See, Kent? Didn’t I tell you how compassionate she is?”
Phae fought to control herself but was losing the battle. Every second she held in the laughter, more tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to take a deep, steadying breath but only tiny spurts of air would enter her spasmodic windpipe.
Wiping her face with the delicate handkerchief that Miss Eugenia gave her, Phae realized that to outsiders she probably looked like she was having a grief fit. This insight only made the situation funnier.
“Oh, Kent!” Miss Eugenia cried. “Her face is a funny color. I bet it’s the heat stroke. Is it hot e
nough for that? I don’t know. I’ll get a cool cloth anyway. And some lemonade.” She patted Phae’s shoulder. “Lemonade fixes everything. I’ll be right back.”
Phae clamped her hand over her mouth until the little lady disappeared into the house. Then she collapsed onto the ground and cut loose, laughing.
The more she thought about it, the funnier it got. She indulged herself until her hilarity subsided into a giggle, then pulled herself into a seated position and realized she’d been hearing a deep, rumbling chuckle.
She looked at Kent.
He sat reclined back in the lawn chair, hands clasped behind his head and legs stretched out straight. He was nothing like she’d imagined.
He had thick black hair, so shiny it nearly shimmered blue like a blackbird’s wing. He had a handsome Roman nose, straight and long. A square jaw. Unblemished tanned, beach bum skin. Beautiful, twinkling blue eyes. The only imperfection on that face was the blue and green lump on his wide forehead.
He was a powerfully handsome man, with the kind of hard body a woman dreams about while taking a bubble bath. His biceps bulged in perfect definition. And his chest … mmm …
“I take it I didn’t fool you with my cripple act,” Kent said in the deepest, richest bass voice she’d ever heard. It was mesmerizing.
Phae blinked. “Huh?”
“I said I was unable to fool you. How tall are you?”
“Fool me? I don’t think so. Tall?”
Kent smiled then repeated himself, slowly. “How … tall … are … you?”
His tone snapped Phae to attention. “Five-eight, smart guy.”
Kent smiled on.
“Why do you want to know how tall I am? And that’s what I meant when I said ‘tall’ the way I did,” Phae said.
“Pardon me. I misunderstood. I thought maybe your heat stroke had left you giddy, disoriented perhaps.”