One
SERENA
It was one of those glorious summer days that you pine for six months later, when the weather gets cold. One where the sun was gold and the sky was blue and the grass so impossibly green, it somehow emblazoned the day into your memory no matter what you happened to be doing.
And what I happened to be doing absolutely sucked.
Shit.
I pushed away from the house and crossed the yard, realizing the dice were cast. There was no going back now. No chickening out or putting it off once he saw me, which would be any second now, as he shook the bag of freshly-cut clippings into the small patch of woods behind the house.
Oh my God. Just look at him.
He looked even better than usual, and his usual look was quite amazing. Dirty blond hair. Sun-bronzed skin. A broad, muscular back that cut downward in a perfect V-shape, all the way to where his slender waist disappeared into his grass-stained blue jeans.
My pulse quickened as I drew even closer, still undetected. From here I could see the thin sheen of sweat he’d accumulated while mowing the lawn. The sexy dimples of his lower back practically winked at me with every movement, as he finished emptying the bag.
“Uh… Joshua?”
He whirled, startled, then turned about three different shades of red. Dropping the bag, my landscaper reached for the shirt slung over one of the arms of the big ride-on mower. He’d taken the shirt off thirty-one minutes ago. I knew, because I’d counted.
“Jacob, not Joshua,” he grinned sheepishly. “And I’m sorry, Mrs. Nelson.”
The giant glass of ice water had been in my hand for so long my fingers were numb. I thrust it his way, shaking my head.
“No, don’t be sorry,” I said quickly. “And please, you don’t have to put the shirt back on. It’s so hot out here, I can’t even imagine—”
I stopped as he wriggled into the shirt anyway. As his head popped through the neck hole, he caught me staring at his vast sea of amazing abdominals.
“Sorry Jacob,” I said, correcting myself. God, after so many years you’d think I know his name! “And it’s not Nelson anymore, it’s McShane. Ms. McShane.”
“Ah.”
“You’ve probably noticed, but Mr. Nelson’s been gone a few years now.”
He’d accepted the water gratefully, but was still waiting to drink it. I nodded toward the glass, and he began gulping it down.
“Also, it’s Serena,” I added, watching his Adam’s apple bob sexily as the cool liquid rocketed down his perfect throat. “Ms. McShane seems way too formal for someone who’s been mowing my lawn as long as you have. Cookie?”
I held up the chocolate chip monstrosity I’d baked specifically for him, as a sort of distraction. He eyed me for a moment before accepting it.
“You’re right,” Jacob said, wiping his brow with the back of one arm. “I’ve been doing this lawn for a long time now. Hell, since I was just a kid.”
“Yeah,” I said sadly. “About that…”
My heart dropped into my stomach as I tried to form the words correctly. Only there was no right way. There was only one way.
“I’m sorry Jacob, but I have to let you go.”
I expected surprise. Shock. Maybe even a little bit of anger. Instead, the gorgeous six-foot three landscaper sweating in front of me only took another swig of water, then followed it up with a big bite of his cookie.
“Umm…”
The silence was awkward. So was the way he was looking at me.
“Jacob? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah I heard you.”
“I mean, it’s not anything you did or didn’t do,” I said hurriedly. “You do great work. Fantastic work! It’s just that, well, I can’t really afford you anymore.”
He nodded slowly, looking down at me with these incredible, sky-blue eyes. I hadn’t noticed them before only because I’d never been this close. I’d only waved to him in passing, and paid the bills as he dropped them in my mailbox every month.
“I already charge you the minimum,” he said finally. “Mr. Nelson — I mean you — well, were one of my very first customers.” He looked up at the sun and winced. “If it would help you out, I could maybe drop the price by a few—”
“No, no,” I said, stopping him. “That’s sweet, but I’m not looking for a discount. I just… well, I can’t afford the luxury of a landscaper anymore.”