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The Sweetest Gift
Jillian Hart


When he'd first popped through the shrubbery, nurse Kirby McKaslin had found her new neighbor brazen and obnoxious. So she was more than surprised to find Sam Gardner volunteering to pilot an early-morning medical emergency flight…and fixing her fence, making her cocoa when she couldn't sleep, even cooking dinner.But when Sam took Kirby's hand in his, she wasn't surprised to find herself falling for him….Then he gently removed his hand, and closed his wounded heart to her. After he'd shown her that faith and kindness could exist in a man, could Kirby convince him that despite his past, love wasn't gone for him–forever?







Kirby knelt, petting the dog, her blond hair falling all around her face and her shoulders and tumbling down over her nape.

“Good dog, Leo,” she said. “Good boy.”

Sam’s heart seemed to stop beating as he watched her with his dog. He’d never seen such gentle hands. She looked like kindness personified, and it hit him deep in his soul. Leo gazed at her with adoration, and Sam did the same.

There was something endearing about Kirby. With her head bent forward, he could see the careful part of her hair, perfect—not a hair was out of place.

For one instant, one millisecond, he wished he had the heart to try to love again. He wished he could travel back in time and change his life so he could stand here now and believe true goodness could exist in a person, and that love never ended.

So he could kneel down, lay his big, callused hand on hers and ask her to dinner. Ask her to a movie. Ask her to step into his life….




JILLIAN HART


makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.




The Sweetest Gift

Jillian Hart







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


But the greatest of these is love.

—1 Corinthians 13:13







To two of life’s sweet blessings:

My cocker spaniel, Jessie, and her friend Sam,

the rottweiler, who inspired this story.


Dear Reader,

I first met younger sister Kirby when I was writing His Hometown Girl (LI #180) for the Love Inspired series. I had so wanted to tell her story and was thrilled when I got the chance. Kirby’s story is about a good-hearted woman who finds her greatest love in her unlikely next-door neighbor. It is also the journey of a woman who tries hard to live her faith every day.

Thank you for choosing The Sweetest Gift. Love is one of God’s sweetest blessings. I wish so very many sweet blessings for you.









Contents


Chapter One (#u3b6edca5-003f-5017-ab8c-fdab6ea50456)

Chapter Two (#uad5a5a87-6ab5-5934-b824-6e700d32922d)

Chapter Three (#u42377605-a06c-542c-bf55-ae5f73ff213e)

Chapter Four (#u54908c9f-968c-5859-8a00-84e82736e416)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


“Sister dearest, you look as though you need a café mocha with extra whipped cream.”

“Boy, do I.” Kirby McKaslin sagged against the coffee shop’s counter. “Could you make it a double?”

“Gladly.” Older sister Karen’s diamond wedding ring glittered in the overhead lights as she began working the espresso machine. “Come around and help yourself to the leftover cookies. Gramma made chocolate chocolate-chip—”

“Say no more.” Kirby dropped her purse on the counter and swung around the corner. Gramma’s soft, chewy chocolate cookies were heaven on earth. There were only two left in the display case and she grabbed both of them.

“What about the job?” Karen set the double mocha with a froth of whipped cream on the counter, her voice affectionate and understanding, as always.

Kirby couldn’t hide her smile a second longer. “I got it. I’m the new nurse practitioner at the Three Forks Clinic. I start in two weeks.”

“Kirby! That’s fantastic!” Karen circled the edge of the counter, arms wide. “I’m so proud of my little sister.”

“It’s too good to be true. My very own clinic. I’m totally in charge, and I know I’m going to love it.” Kirby stepped into her sister’s hug. “I’m going to get my own patients. I still can’t believe it.”

“I can. I’ve had faith in you all along.”

There was nothing like a big sister. Kirby gave Karen an extra-long hug, careful of the growing tummy beneath her loose T-shirt. Married and expecting, with a new house and a booming business, Karen had it all.

Kirby was glad for her, but, well, it would be great if that kind of future was ahead for her, too. Not that there were any prospects, but you never knew when a handsome stranger with a loving heart would walk into your life and complete it, right?

She felt optimistic as she sipped melting whipped cream and hot, rich mocha. Things were finally working out in her life. She felt great. As she pushed through the shop’s front door and burst onto the sidewalk she couldn’t remember being this happy in a long time.

She’d head home. Let her dog out for a run. Maybe treat them both to their favorite drive-through hamburgers…

“Kendra!” a woman shouted out from beneath the awning across the street. “Kendra!”

Kirby didn’t need to look up from the sunshine falling on the concrete in front of her to know her excellent mood was about to take a nosedive. Doom was the cheerful former cheerleader across the street, holding tight to her newborn with one hand and waving frantically with the other.

“Kendra, I’m so relieved I finally found you.” Janice Bemis turned on her charm. “What luck! I’ve been looking for you. You just have to join the class reunion committee.”

“I’m not interested, Janice. And it’s Kirby, not Kendra.” Someone she’d gone to school with since kindergarten ought to know that sort of thing. That was the problem with being the plainest girl in the family—and the middle girl. No one could remember which one she was.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s all right.” She was used to it. She dug her keys out of her pocket with her free hand, heading straight to her car.

“I’ll give you a call and we’ll talk!” Janice promised with die-hard cheerfulness.

Right, and I have caller ID. Kirby settled on the seat of her little red sedan and let the hot, sweet double mocha work its magic. As soon as enough chocolate was in her bloodstream, she started feeling better again.

The last time I volunteered on a committee with you, Janice Appleton Bemis, you stole the boy I was interested in and humiliated me in front of half the student body. Get someone else for your committee. That’s what she should have said. Sure, easy to think of all those words now, when she was halfway down Railroad Street.

She wasn’t going to let Janice ruin her mood. No way. This was the best day Kirby had had in ages—finally a better paying job, which meant she got to keep the house she’d bought and couldn’t quite afford.

If that wasn’t good news enough, her loud and noisy next-door neighbor had been evicted yesterday.

Relief sighed through her. Another blissful night of peaceful and uninterrupted sleep was ahead of her tonight. That would make two nights in a row. It sounded like heaven.

If she ever needed confirmation that prayers came true, this was it.

Until she pulled down her street and spotted the strange pickup parked in her next-door neighbor’s driveway. Her happiness began to ebb. Surely Ruth Gardner, the landlord, hadn’t found a new renter already.

No, probably not. It’s only a repairman, she told herself. There’s no way someone else could have moved in already. And Ruth had promised she’d find a renter more suitable to the neighborhood.

That’s definitely a repairman, Kirby decided as she slowed down, fighting the seat belt to twist around for a better look. It certainly wasn’t someone moving in, not with the ladder and a big box of tools in the back of the pickup.

Just how many repairs would the house need? How soon before it would be rented? After six months of torment putting up with noise, she had a right to be curious.

Who was fixing the house? Was it a general contractor, meaning the job would take a long time? Or a handyman come to do minor repairs?

Ooh, there he was. The workman loped down the front steps and into sight. He was a dark-haired man, probably six feet tall with wide shoulders and lanky rather than bulky build. He wore a red baseball cap and a gray T-shirt and jeans. A tool belt hugged his lean hips. That was all she saw before she pulled into her driveway and the hedges separating the properties hid him from her sight.

Hmm… Whether he was there for major repairs or minor, he was definitely handsome. Not that handsome men paid her any attention, let’s face it—she’d never had that kind of luck. But it never hurt a girl to look and admire God’s creation in the pleasing form of a hardworking man.

Especially a girl who wanted a husband to call her own. But not just any man—the right one. That man was turning out to be harder to find than she’d ever dreamed.

Kirby killed the engine and set the parking brake. Her keys tinkled merrily as she climbed from the car, careful not to spill her steaming mocha. The tepid breezes whipped her dark blond hair into her face, and out of habit she folded the long strands behind her ear as she headed up the walk.

Who would her ideal next-door neighbor be? How about as handsome as the workman next door? And if the angels were kind, he’d be quiet and sedate. Polite. Hardworking. Kind. Christian.

Oh, and wonderful in every way. Someone exactly the opposite from the single, wild-haired guy who’d just moved out and who’d played his bass guitar in his garage night after night from midnight until four in the morning.

No, her ideal man would be soft-spoken and considerate and looking for his true love. Of course, he’d take one look at her and fall instantly in love—

“Howdy.” A bold male voice came out of nowhere.

Kirby yelped and a bubble of foam popped up through the drink hole in the plastic cover, scorching her hand. A suspicious rustling had her turning toward the hedge along the property line.

A man climbed through the foliage like James Bond on a mission.

Or like a prisoner on a jailbreak.

Evergreen needles dusted his dark, short hair. Yep, it was the workman from next door. He was more powerful looking up close. Developed muscles corded his lean, rock-solid arms. He looked intimidating as he straightened to his full height, probably a few inches over six foot, on the lawn in front of her.

Why was he coming through the shrubs instead of walking around on the sidewalk like a normal person?

“I scared you,” he said, apparently not shy at all, as he dusted bits of green hedge off his gray shirt.

Say something. Kirby took a breath, trying fruitlessly to get past the shyness that always haunted her.

“I’m sorry. I guess you’re not used to men bursting through your hedges.”

“Most people use the sidewalk. There are fewer branches to trip over.” Oh, that was brilliant, Kirby.

“I’m a unique sort of guy. I never take the easy route. My friends call me Sam.”

Friends? “Then what do your enemies call you?”

“Deadly with an M-16.” His rugged face was as unforgiving as stone.

Adrenaline kicked up in her blood. Okay, time to run into the house and lock the door. It wouldn’t hurt to be on the other side of the dead bolt. A man who mentioned a gun had to be dangerous, right?

“I used to be in the military.”

Okay, so now he tells her, after scaring her to death. Who is this guy? she wondered. Kirby took a few more deep breaths, wiped her hand off on her slacks and studied him. He didn’t look dangerous at all with the sunlight spilling over him and his hands jammed harmlessly into his front pockets.

What an imagination she had. “Thanks for clarifying that. For a minute there, I thought you might be a convict on the loose.”

“Nope, just a man come to fix the plumbing next door.” One corner of his mouth crooked in the attempt at a grin, but it was a failed attempt. His face seemed too hard for a smile. “Sorry, I guess I scared you. Didn’t mean to.”

“Really? Here’s a hint. Next time you introduce yourself to a woman, don’t mention an assault weapon.”

He winced. “I was kidding about that. My buddies call me the comedian.”

Comedian? He looked dead serious. As if there wasn’t one thing amusing about him. But he was a big man and in fantastic shape, and so she wasn’t going to argue. If he thought he was funny, then she was happy to let him think that.

At least her heart rate was almost back to normal. “Fine, well, I’m going to go in now. Nice meeting you…” Whatever your name is.

“Sam.”

“What?” Her pulse rocketed up a notch.

“Sam Gardner.” His rock-hard brown gaze pinned hers. “Guess I should have introduced myself properly. So a woman alone and as skittish as you would feel comfortable.”

She’d be offended by his tone, except that there was a glimmer of humor in his eyes. Oh, she knew about men like him. Too handsome for his own good, and he knew it, too.

Shouldn’t he be next door repairing the plumbing? Why was he bugging her?

He arched his brow, and on his granite face it was more of a demand than a question. “I’ve told you my name. So it’d be polite if you told me yours.”

“I never said I was polite.”

“Darlin’, you have it written all over that peaches-and-cream complexion of yours.” A hint of a smile played on his mouth. “Go ahead. You can say it. My name is…?”

“Kirby. Is there some reason you climbed through my hedge?”

“There sure is. I only crash through hedges for a good cause. I’m here because I’m in trouble.”

“Oh, I see.” Of course that’s why he was here. Why he was laying on the charm. He wanted something. “Let me guess. You need to use my phone to make a long-distance emergency call.”

“Nope, but are you offering? I could think of someone to call long distance.”

“No.”

What was he doing? Sam Gardner knew better than to tease a pretty young woman, especially one so seemingly good and innocent, because he’d learned from experience. No good could come from it. Hugging a nestful of rattlers would be less hazardous.

That’s why he did it. He saw the way she’d looked him up and down as potential marriage material. Single women of a certain age had that common habit, and he had to make it clear. He was not a candidate for holy matrimony. The question was, did she get the hint?

Her bow-shaped mouth drew down. Oh, yeah, she was expecting the worst from him.

“You want me to fix you a sandwich? Run to the hardware store for you? Lend you money? My grandmother warned me about men like you.”

“Good guys, you mean?”

Her delicate brows arched above her perfect, blue-sky eyes. He’d managed to offend her pretty well.

Good. Mission complete.

“No, men who try to offend women on purpose.”

Ooh…busted. He’d have to watch this one. She was smarter than she looked. “You can’t blame a guy for trying to make a memorable impression.”

“Memorable? You would have been better off wearing a ski mask and asking for all my money. I’d be more relaxed around you.”

“I had you believing that for a few minutes. C’mon, I saw that look on your face when you dashed for the door.”

“I did not dash.”

“You were ready to.”

“Maybe, but you do look like a man who can’t be trusted.” She lit up as she said that. And she may as well have plastered “single and looking” on her forehead in neon-red ink.

He hadn’t been promoted as fast as he had in the armed forces without being dead-on when it came to reading people and knowing what they were capable of. And pretty blond women of a certain age without a diamond on their left ring finger wanted only one thing.

Yep, he’d be wary of her. Friendly, but wary.

“So, are you gonna help me out or not?”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

While she thought about it, she took a sip of her coffee—he could smell the chocolate and caffeine from four paces away. That frilly drink probably had extra whipped cream and those chocolate candy sprinkle things, too.

She eyed him over the top of the pastel-pink straws she was daintily sipping from. Was she still trying to figure out if he was suitable marriage material? Or had he convinced her that he wasn’t?

“I can’t believe you conned Mrs. Gardner into hiring you. She isn’t paying you to stand on my walkway talking to me.”

“She’s not paying me. I’m fixing her house out of the kindness of my own good heart.”

“Excuse me, but you don’t look the type.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re fixing the plumbing next door for free?”

“Hey, don’t look so surprised. I know I don’t look like those GQ kind of men or the suit-and-tie-wearing office types who say please and thank you. I don’t have ‘feelings.’ But I’m not a jerk out to profit off an old lady on a fixed income. I’m Ruth’s nephew.”

Kirby’s rosebud mouth dropped open in surprise. “Her nephew? You?”

“That’s an affirmative.”

She stared at him. “Ruth Gardner is petite and blond, and you look like James Bond gone bad. Are you sure you’re related to her?”

James Bond, huh? He liked that. “Yep. She married my dad’s brother. He passed last year. I came for the funeral, and realized how alone Ruth was. No children of her own, and so she’d always done her best to spoil me when I was growing up. I figured I might move here and keep an eye on her. She’s the only family I’ve got.”

Kirby’s blue eyes warmed a notch as she studied him again. This time with a much higher regard. “Ruth belongs to my church. She’s a very nice lady. I’m sure she’s relieved you’re helping her out with this house. She had nothing but problems with the last renters.”

“Yep, but I came and evicted them. No more problems.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. You’ll find a nice quiet couple or a young family, maybe. Responsible people to rent, right?”

There she went, being too friendly again. He’d gone too far. He didn’t think of himself as a man with natural charm. In fact, he tried to scare away marriage-seeking women on purpose. Looked as if he’d better try harder.

“So, what about that favor? I had to shut off the water to the house. Trouble is, I need to flush a pipe, and I can’t turn on the main valve. Would you let me use your garden hose for about five minutes?”

“Five minutes, not six?”

“How about five and a half?”

“Deal. The hose is in the back. Just go through the side gate.” Soft humor sparkled in those pretty blue eyes of hers.

Not that he was dazzled in the least by her pretty blue eyes. He was a disciplined man, and he knew enough about women to know he’d better stop noticing how lovely she was. The girl-next-door type was always the same. Always. He ought to know, since he’d married one, and what a disaster that had been.

Don’t think about it, man. Sam forced the memories away even before they could bounce off the titanium shield around his heart. He was well protected. Self-controlled. He wasn’t going to think that because Kirby was nice, she would be any different down deep when times got tough. Because she wouldn’t be.

Keep your distance, Gardner. That would be the wisest course. He hadn’t survived some of the toughest battles in recent military history only to let another woman take him down. He knew how to get out of disasters alive and when to avoid them entirely.

He knew exactly how love could break a man, and what a nice, sweet-looking woman could do to his soul.

He was here for a reason, nothing more. “Is the gate locked?”

“No.” She flicked a golden strand of hair behind her slim shoulder, her brows furrowed beneath her wispy, windblown bangs, as if she were trying to look deep inside him.

Good luck. He didn’t let anyone close, most of all a lovely woman like her with a heart-shaped face, a creamy clear complexion and a few freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Freckles she tried to hide with a light coat of makeup. Not that he was noticing. He wasn’t. Really.

Her lips were bare of lipstick or of that shiny-looking stuff women wore on those makeup commercials. Her mouth was softly shaped and kind, as if she smiled. A lot.

Yep, she was sure going to be trouble. Trouble because he liked her on sight. And hated that he did. “There’s a few boards missing off the top of the fence I need to fix, but I’m gonna need access to your yard to do it. Do you mind?”

“No, but that’s half of my fence, too, and I should pay you.”

“Seeing as you’re willing to compensate me, I’d sure appreciate a tall glass of iced tea.”

“Fine. Iced tea it is. But only half a glass up front,” she called over her shoulder as she unlocked her front door. “You’ll get the rest when the job’s finished.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that the standard business practice? When I had my new roof put on, it was half payment up front. The rest on completion of a satisfactory job.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Lady, that’s no way to treat your new neighbor.”




Chapter Two


Neighbor? Kirby whirled around. This couldn’t be true.

“Yep. Surprised you, did I? You didn’t think I’d be your new next-door neighbor. Your new next-door nightmare.”

The keys tumbled from her fingers and hit the front step with a terrible, final clink as if to say, “Disaster.”

She rescued her keys from the ground, heart pounding and her mind spinning. No, she couldn’t have heard him right. There was no possible way. Ruth had made promises. Ruth was a trustworthy, dependable Christian woman. Ruth wouldn’t have lied or broken her word. Next time I’ll find a decent, quiet, responsible neighbor, she’d said.

This man looked anything but quiet and responsible. He looked as if a squad of Special Forces commandos might come by at any moment and recruit him.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. I bought furniture this morning. It’s gonna be delivered tomorrow between ten and noon.” He wedged his hands in his jeans pockets, widening his stance. His chest was impressively broad and strong looking.

Not that she should be noticing. “You can’t be my new neighbor. I mean, the house isn’t even up for rent yet. I know, because I just talked to Ruth yesterday.”

“You didn’t speak with her today, did you? Or you’d have all the latest details.”

Doom. Kirby could feel a dark cloud settle around her like midnight fog.

What had Mrs. Gardner promised? That’s a mistake I won’t repeat again, dear—you have my word on that. No more bachelors in my rental house. I know there are discrimination laws, but those single men can sure be trouble….

Sam Gardner looked like a single man to her, nephew or not, since no wedding ring marked the fourth finger of his left hand.

Or was he the kind of married man who didn’t wear a ring? That was even worse!

He paced closer. “You suddenly don’t look very happy. You don’t approve?”

“I’m wary because I’ve had my fair share of neighbor disasters.”

“Like fires?”

“Not fires. Weekend parties and night-long drum practice sessions in the garage.” Which she hadn’t been able to sleep through.

Please, at least let him be married. Stable. Did she dare hope that he was very busy being a plumber during the day so he had to sleep at night? “Will you be inviting over large numbers of people and playing heavy metal music extremely loud after midnight?”

“Probably. The good news is that I won’t be living alone for much longer. My rock-band buddies will be moving in shortly.” One dark brow quirked. “Is that what you mean by neighbor disasters?”

She saw the next six months of peaceful nights’ sleeping vanish before her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Catastrophe. There was no other word for it. And this was Mrs. Gardner’s relative. There was no way she’d evict her own nephew.

“I throw wild parties at least three times a week. That’s why I got booted out from my last five apartments.” He winked at her. “Did that answer your question?”

He was teasing her. Great. She’d been praying for a nice responsible Christian man for a neighbor and what did she get? A comedian. He’d been teasing her all along.

She didn’t want to like him. The only reason a handsome man like him paid any attention to a girl like her was that they wanted something. Wasn’t that the way it was? She was ordinary looking, nothing special, and that was okay, because it just showed this man was not her Mr. Right.

Her true love would see past her plainness and see her. And he’d love her, shortcomings and failures and strengths. That’s the way love should be.

She unlocked her second lock as her little dog barked through the wooden door. “Oh, about the hose. Please don’t forget to coil it up when you’re through.”

“I’ll leave it the way I found it. Don’t worry. I might be loud and inconsiderate when I’m playing my drums all night, but I’m careful with garden hoses.”

Why was she laughing? She shouldn’t be encouraging him. She snatched her mail from the slim black box next to the front door. She wasn’t even going to look at the bills that had come. She had bigger problems. Her new neighbor. So he wasn’t what she’d prayed for. He wasn’t going to be a problem, right?

Maybe she wasn’t seeing the whole picture. Maybe he’d taken off his wedding ring when he worked so he wouldn’t catch it on a pipe or something. That meant there was a chance he could be married and responsible.

He didn’t look responsible, but still, a girl had to have hope. “Will your wife be joining you?”

“No, no wife. No woman can put up with all the groupies from my band.”

“I can’t believe Mrs. Gardner is letting a man like you stay in her house.”

“There’s this nondiscrimination law. She had to let me in or I threatened to sue.” Dimples cut into his cheeks as he tunneled his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, standing strong and at ease, like a man always in charge. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good neighbor. I won’t throw parties and don’t play loud music. I’m usually working.”

“Working.” She should have guessed it by the hard, lean look of him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those workaholic types.”

“Yes, but it’s not my fault. It’s genetic. I tried a support group for a while, but it cut into my work time.”

“I suppose it’s a competitive, stressful calling, being a plumber. Nighttime leaking pipes, early-morning bathtub backups and emergency pipe unclogging.”

“Are you mocking me?” That seemed to make those troublesome glints in his eyes shine more brightly. “Sure, go ahead and make me angry. I may have to go let off steam. Did I mention I play drums? Yep. I plan to set up in the garage. Will that bother you at night?”

He flashed her a grin before padding soundlessly away. He moved like a well-trained athlete, like a man comfortable with his power. Not married, huh?

She was a woman. She couldn’t help noticing the wide, capable cut of his shoulders beneath the plain gray T-shirt. Or his long legs encased in denim as he disappeared around the corner of her house.

Not that she was interested. She wanted a nice Christian man. He looked like anything but.

“Best get the tea steeping, because I’m a fast worker,” he called from the side yard, out of sight.

The side gate of the fence squealed open and then snapped shut.

He might not be Mr. Right, but he was funny. Heroes in the movies weren’t this good-looking.

Her dog started barking an enthusiastic greeting through the door. Kirby banned all thoughts of Sam Gardner from her head and turned the old brass knob.

The instant she opened the door, the little spaniel leaped at her knees, panting happily. Kirby knelt to hug the wiggling creature. There was nothing like being welcomed home. And until she had a family of her own, she was blessed with this little animal that was always so glad to see her.

“C’mon, Jessie. Let’s get you outside.” Kirby’s problems felt far away as she set down her purse and followed her best friend through the house. The little blond dog, nothing but fluff, curls and long ears, dashed ahead, leading the way.

“Did you have a good day guarding the house?” Kirby talked to fill the silence that was broken only by the occasional creak of the wood floorboards and the tap of her heels. “I know, it’s a tough job, but you did well. Yes, you did.”

The dog panted happily, already at the back door, sitting politely and gazing at the doorknob.

There he was! Sam Gardner. Kirby froze at the sight of him, then took one step back away from the window. Staying out of his sight, she watched him through the sun-streaked glass. Looking like a rodeo hero, he slung the coiled green hose into the air like a lasso. It unfurled as it sailed over the top of the fence and into his backyard.

Sam Gardner met only one of her criteria. He was attractive. She watched his toned muscles ripple beneath his T-shirt as he adjusted the hose over the top of the board fence and stalked out of sight.

Too bad. She’d be willing to settle for him if he met even one more of her criteria.

A second later, she could hear the sound of water running. “What do you think, Jess?”

The dog didn’t bother to bark. She looked at the doorknob expectantly.

“Some watchdog you are. You’re too friendly. You didn’t even snarl when he was in the backyard.”

The dog gazed up at her happily, long silky ears flopping, pink tongue lolling.

“I know, you’re a fierce one.” Kirby patted the dog’s soft round head, laughing because she couldn’t imagine her sweet-hearted dog hurting anyone.

She couldn’t imagine Sam Gardner running from anyone or anything. He had that tough, dangerous look about him. The one that made a girl’s pulse skyrocket. Even an average and ordinary girl like her.

There he was again. She could see him on the other side of the fence, in his yard, tugging the hose in a competent, expert way that said he could handle anything. Shocks of dark hair tumbled over his brow as he worked, and the sunshine flitted over him like grace.

He’s probably not a Christian, not nice, not considerate and hardworking, she told herself, as if that were any consolation. Except that didn’t ring true.

The dog scratched at the door.

Had she drifted off again? Yep, she was always doing that. Kirby turned the knob and opened the door. Maybe she’d go out with the dog and make sure Sam had shut the side gate. He didn’t look like the responsible type—

A shadow leaped toward her. Big. Dark. Threatening. She fell back against the door, from calm to terrified in a millisecond. She tried to scream.

Couldn’t.

The shadow became an enormous dog hurtling toward her. Its powerful jaw opened to reveal enormous sharp teeth. He leaped through the open door and planted his huge muddy paws on her shoulders. Bright, happy brown eyes smiled at her. A wide, wet tongue swiped across her chin in a friendly hello.

“I guess you’re not too dangerous.” Kirby wiped her face with her sleeve. “Down.”

Pleased with himself, the dog dropped to all fours, glad to sniff noses with the little blond spaniel dancing around him in greeting.

That was one enormous dog. He was at least midthigh high, with a neat short black-and-brown coat. He paraded into her kitchen as if he owned it.

I bet I know who owns him. Kirby thought of that rugged, all-too-confident man next door. The one who mentioned the boards down in their mutual fence. A dog owner would be concerned about a damaged fence.

There was a resemblance between the man and his canine. The dog sauntered over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the biscuit box off the edge of it. As if he had great practice at doing this very same thing many times before, he upended the box onto the floor and little bone-shaped treats scattered everywhere.

Her little spaniel sat politely eating only one treat, but the bold dog attacked the pile of biscuits as if he’d been starved for days.

“Yep, you belong to Sam Gardner. No doubt about that.” Kirby knelt to retrieve what she could of the scattered biscuits. The dog only ate faster, sucking up as many treats as his mouth could hold. “You are a bad dog. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t seem the slightest bit repentant.

“It’s probably not your fault. Look at your owner. You can’t help it.” She put the box on top of the refrigerator, far out of reach. She patted her little dog and gave her another biscuit for being so polite.

“No more for you, buster.” Kirby told the intruder. “C’mon, we’re taking you back where you belong.”

The dog looked appalled as she snapped a bright pink leash to his chain collar, but he went with her willingly. He was a very good-natured dog. The spaniel followed them to the door, whining when it was clear she had to stay behind.

“Sorry, Jessie.” When Sam’s dog lunged off the front steps, dragging her with him, Kirby thought he must have been an obedience-school dropout.

“Just like your owner, aren’t you?” She coiled the leash when she caught up with him, holding him firmly. “You are good-looking. I bet all the girls tell you that.”

As if in complete agreement, the dog hauled her around the hedge, obviously too self-confident for his own good.

Just like his owner.

The phone was ringing loud and clear through the window he’d left open to air out the kitchen. Sam dumped the end of the garden hose and crashed through the old screen door. He caught the receiver on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”

“Oh, I was about ready to hang up.” Aunt Ruth’s chipper voice singsonged in his ear. “I thought maybe you gave me a number that wasn’t hooked up yet. But I should have known the go-getter you are would have your telephone in already.”

“It was tough work to dial the phone company. Nearly took all my energy. Now I’m too weak to fix the plumbing.”

A warm chuckle rang on the other end of the line. “Oh, you can always make me laugh, boy.”

“A man does what he can.” Warmth seeped into the center of his chest. He loved his aunt, who’d been a second mother to him and had written him faithfully every week when he’d been in the military. And during the tough times afterward.

“I suppose you’ve already got your tool belt on and working.”

“The tools are on the floor, but I am tinkering away.”

If he could call it tinkering. It was more like a major repair. He took one look at the trashed sink, broken faucet, the holes in the wall, the door ripped off the front of a filthy fridge. And that was just the beginning.

The question was, how much did he tell her? Aunt Ruth had become more frail after his uncle’s death. “The repairs are well under way.”

“There’s no grass growing under your feet, Sam Gardner. No, I can always count on you.” She sounded so proud of him. “I admire a hardworking man. You are something special.”

“Nope, just bored.” He blushed, because her affection embarrassed him. Because he didn’t feel special at all. He had a lot of hard lessons and proof to the contrary. “The truth is, I agreed to move here and help you out so I had something to do. Flying around the world was getting too dull. Been there, done that.”

“I learned long ago not to believe you, Samuel James Gardner. Beneath that crusty manner of yours is a soft heart gooier than melted chocolate. Which reminds me, thanks for running to the grocery store for me. I found the surprise you bought along with the groceries. You are a dear, precious boy.”

That settled it. The woman was just too darn gushy. Sam grabbed a Phillips screwdriver from one of his tool bags and opened a sagging cabinet door. What he’d do is fix that bent screw. “Found the bag of Snickers bars, did you? I was trying to bribe you. I want you to like me better than my other cousins.”

“No problem there, as long as you keep bringing me my favorite candy. You are my favorite, boy. Always have been and always will be.”

“You are my favorite, too.” That was about as affectionate as he could stand being. He loved his aunt, but love was tenuous. And he’d believed in love—his mother’s, his wife’s—and seen how easy it was for love to crumble away into hatred.

The bent screw gave and the broken cabinet door handle tumbled into his hand.

“Sounds like you’re hard at work.” Now the worry was there in Ruth’s voice. “The damage to the house isn’t too bad, is it?”

“Not too bad,” he said, because it was only the truth.

The damage wasn’t too bad at all. It was more than bad. It was appalling. The place was trashed. But it wouldn’t be by the time Ruth saw it. He’d fix everything damaged between the roof and the foundation first.

“Oh, I’m so relieved. The Realtor was simply exaggerating about the damages, then. I don’t know what I would do if I had to find the money to repair that house. It was fine enough to inherit a rental property, but it’s been nothing but trouble. Sam, you’re my saving grace in all this. I can’t tell you what it means to have you take care of this for me.”

“For you? You’re the one letting me buy this place. The real estate market around here is pretty tight.”

“Yes, but heaven knows the house has to be in good repair. And clean. I could hire my cleaning woman to come over. She’s quick as a whip and thorough, too.”

The place in Sam’s chest where a whole heart used to be felt constricted. His aunt was a good person, and there weren’t too many of those in this world. “Let’s hold off on a cleaning lady for a while, okay?” A long while. “I’d like to do a few more repairs and then paint the whole place.”

“Oh, of course. Maybe I’d best buy the paint. You go down to the hardware store and put it on my account.”

Although it was generous of Ruth, Sam figured that by the time he was done, he would have charged up an easy ten grand. “Why don’t you let me worry about that? I thought that was our agreement. I fix this up for sweat equity, right? I’ve got it under control.”

“Such a relief, such a dear boy. Say, have you met little Kirby McKaslin next door?”

The memory of his beautiful neighbor flashed through him like sunlight. She was as graceful, as soft and as perfect as the warm spring day. “Yep. I did happen to meet her. I had to go next door and borrow her hose.”

“She’s a cute girl, don’t you think? And as good as gold. Comes from a fine family—”

He knew where this was going. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I’m just telling you about your new neighbor. I want you to be friendly to her, since she’s a friend of the family.”

“Friendly? Is that all? I heard a scheme in your voice.”

“You heard no such thing.”

“Call it instinct, then.”

“Instinct? Why, that’s preposterous. I wouldn’t try to fix you up with a nice, pretty young woman—”

“Fix me up, huh?” At least he’d got her to admit it. Sharp, fire-hot pain scorched a sharp point through the center of him, all the way down to his soul. He knew she had no clue what she was doing to him. “I’ve asked you not to fix me up.”

Ruth’s sigh came across the line, not as a whisper of surrender but rather as a gathering of determination. “I know how you feel about women. You’re wrong, and you’re smart enough to figure that out one day. There are plenty of wonderful, kindhearted women in this world—good Christian girls—looking for a strong and decent man like you to love and cherish.”

His chest compressed. His lungs deflated. The pain left his eyes burning.

To love and cherish? No, he’d tried that once and he wouldn’t go there again. He refused to remember another nice Christian girl, the one he’d vowed before God to honor and love for the rest of his life. “Ruth, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”

“I have.” His throat seized up. If he didn’t stop his aunt from going down this path, he’d wind up one big, raw wound, open and bleeding. “I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop this. I can’t take it.”

“A big strong warrior like you?”

“I’m not a warrior anymore.” The sadness of that battered him, too.

“You’re a fine man, and I’m proud to call you my nephew.” Love shone in her words.

But it wasn’t strong enough to diminish his hopelessness. Or change his mind.

Ruth, protected and gentle hearted, didn’t know what he knew. He’d seen too much as a man, as a soldier, as a husband to believe there was any goodness at all in the world. Any goodness that lasted.

He reassured his aunt about the house so she wouldn’t worry, and ended the call before she could get another word in edgewise about Kirby McKaslin.

How did Ruth think that he’d just be able to trust anyone enough to love again? And why Kirby McKaslin? Her pretty face flickered back into his thoughts like a movie reel stuck on one vibrant, flawless frame, refusing to fade.

Why was he thinking about her? Picturing her in his mind as if he was interested? He wasn’t. A smart man would put all thoughts of her aside and keep his distance from her. Forever.

There was nothing else he could do. He had no heart left.

Since he was a smart man, he didn’t look out the window over the sink, which gave him a view of the side of her house. He blocked all images of her as he dropped the screwdriver into his tool belt and ambled out the door and into the welcome sunshine.

He’d finish replacing the valves in the basement, coil up the hose and return it.

Kirby McKaslin was nice enough. She was his neighbor. He’d have to see her time and again. The casual kind of run-ins that neighbors wound up having. He’d be nice to her, friendly, polite, neighborly.

But that was all.

With his game plan ready, Sam stretched the kinks out of his back. Where was his dog?

“Oh!” A woman’s gasp of surprise tore him out of his quick flash of panic.

What was Kirby McKaslin doing in his yard, glowing golden and dainty and heavenly, her hair rumpled and windblown? Then he looked down and realized she had a tight grip on a bright pink leash. The leash was attached to a powerful rottweiler. She bent to free the dog, and Leo bounded forward to run circles around Sam’s legs.

“Howdy, boy. What have you done now?” Sam knelt to stroke his hands down the dog’s broad back. It was the best choice, since that meant he didn’t have to look at Kirby.

It was his rotten luck that he couldn’t forget her entirely. Her feet were in his line of vision. Delicate feet to match the rest of her encased in trim leather loafers made of the softest-looking leather he’d ever seen. She was quality all the way—any man could see it.

Remember, be polite and neighborly. That was the plan. He refused to remember another delicate woman. See, with just that tiny thought, pain ripped through him, raw and jagged. A constant reminder of the biggest mistake of his life.

One he’d never make again.




Chapter Three


“Your dog must have found a space in the fence,” she said in that velvety-soft voice of hers. “It was no trouble figuring out who he belonged to.”

She was trying to make conversation. Whether she was just being polite or trying to start a relationship thing, Sam didn’t know. He couldn’t let himself care.

He stared hard at his dog. Leo glowed with happiness. He obviously liked Kirby. That was one check mark in her favor, that she was kind to animals, but he wasn’t going to let it change his resolve.

He stood slowly, careful of his stiff left leg. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good dog. A little energetic.”

“He’s got a lot of puppy in him still.” Sam kept his focus on his dog’s broad head. “Guess I’ll be right over to fix that fence. I’m sorry he jumped into your yard. C’mon, Leo, inside. Now.”

The dog followed him, happily tossing their pretty neighbor his most charming dog grin.

It was embarrassing, that’s what, a tough guard dog with his tongue lolling like that. That kind of affection would lead a guy to heartache. Didn’t the dog know that?

“Leo? That’s his name?”

That was Kirby’s voice, dulcet with amusement, calling him back, making his shoes pivot so that he turned toward her, as if he had no say in it. As if his feet were in charge.

“What’s wrong with the name Leo?”

“Nothing, exactly.”

Leo danced at the tinkling warmth of Kirby’s laughter. Sam had to admit he liked the sound of it, too. Soft, not grating. Gentle, not earsplitting.

“It wasn’t what I expected from a big dangerous-looking dog like that.” She held out one hand and Leo dashed straight for her, gazing adoringly at her while she scratched his chin. “Is he purebred?”

She was captivating. He couldn’t seem to figure out a way to answer. He was a big tough guy. He knew how to speak. What was wrong with him?

You’re in trouble, man. His game plan was going to be blown to bits if he didn’t thank her and exit stage left. All he had to do was haul Leo through that door, close it, and he’d be safe. Unattached. Distant.

But did he do that? No. Did he summon up his best drill-sergeant impressions and sound harsh and mean so that she’d never look at him again with those sparkling eyes full of hope? It’s what he should have done.

But did he? No. He wanted to hear her laugh again. Against every instinct he had, he advanced when he should have retreated. “So what would you have named him? Wait, I know. Something fancy. Like Prince or Duke, maybe.”

“Now you’re mocking me.” She thrust her gently rounded chin just high enough for the wind to sneak beneath the fall of her silken hair and ruffle it.

The wispy locks caressed the side of her face and made him wonder if her hair was as soft as it looked.

“No, I like people names for dogs,” she added. “They have feelings, too.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got one of those pampered little dogs. With carefully brushed hair tied up with a pink ribbon. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“A cocker spaniel, right?” He’d recognized the note and type of bark earlier, when she’d been unlocking her front door.

“How did you know?”

“I just do. I’m gifted.” Oh, that made her laugh. “What? You don’t think so?”

“Gifted isn’t the word I’d use. Irritating. Annoying. Arrogant.”

“Ouch. Calling me names already? That doesn’t bode well for our future together as next-door neighbors.” He liked the way a little wrinkle furrowed between her brows right at the bridge of her nose. “You’re mad because I’m right.”

“I’m not mad, and there’s nothing wrong with having a polite dog.”

“My dog doesn’t have to be well mannered. Not with his good looks. He’s naturally adored no matter what.”

Was Sam Gardner talking about himself, too? “Yes, but good looks can only take a guy so far.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” He braced his hands on his hips, a fighting stance, broadening his shoulders, drawing tight his chest muscles.

He looked as invincible as steel, but there was a tenderness in him, a kindness that shone in the chocolate warmth of his eyes, that gleamed like a promise in his deep rumbling voice. “My dog is good-looking and at the top of the food chain. Look at him. Big teeth. Bred for fighting. He’s a trained guard dog.”

“He’s a thief. He helped himself to most of the dog biscuits.”

“I can get you another box. Hold on.”

“I don’t want you to reimburse me with dog treats. I was just—” Okay, so Sam Gardner did meet another criterion. He could make her laugh.

But that didn’t mean he was a good man. For example, he might not be a responsible pet owner. “Didn’t you notice Leo was gone from your yard?”

“One minute I looked out the window and he was fine. But the phone rang and he must have escaped while I was talking to my lady love.”

“You were talking with your aunt, huh?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’m gifted—what can I say?”

“You overheard me through the open windows when you were bringing Leo back.”

“And you heard my dog’s little bark.”

Sam chuckled, low and deep, studying her with a gaze so intent, it was as if he could see her soul, and she shivered, feeling exposed. Way too exposed.

She took a step back, confused, not at all sure she liked this man. He definitely wasn’t anything close to her ideal of Mr. Right.

What she knew for sure was that it was time to leave. “Goodbye, Leo. It was nice meeting you. Come over any time to visit.”

“I’ll be fixing that fence. It’s next on my list,” Sam informed her as she held out her hands and the big dog laid his face in her open palms.

“I’m glad. This is a quiet neighborhood, but there’s always a car now and then that’s driving too fast and isn’t watching for kids or pets.” She knelt, her hair falling all around her face and her shoulders and tumbling down over her nape, to let Leo kiss her chin. “Good dog, good boy.”

Sam’s heart stopped beating. He’d never seen such gentle hands. Slender and fine boned, with long tapered fingers. She looked like kindness personified, and it rocked him to the core—as if he’d taken a direct blow from a grenade launcher.

Leo gazed at her again with adoration, and while Sam wasn’t about to do the same, he could see there was something endearing about her. With her head bent forward, he could see the careful part of her hair—perfect, not a strand out of place.

See? She was just what he thought. The perfect woman with a perfect life looking for the perfect man to marry.

He wanted nothing to do with that.

To make it clear, Sam stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. He kept them there as Kirby rose like a flower to the sun, straight and elegant and lovely, and smiled at him. Hers was a smile that could melt the polar ice caps with its loveliness. Then she moved away and out of his sight.

The scent of her perfume, something light and floral and sweet, remained.

He was alone. And that was good. His life was fine the way it was.

Leo nudged his knee.

“C’mon, boy, let’s go grab some lunch. Then we’ve got to get busy. We’ve a lot of work ahead of us.”

The dog loped up the back steps, dashed across the porch and into the house. He bounded and hopped impatiently while Sam grabbed his wallet and his keys.

The empty house echoed around him, lonely.

As his life was meant to be.

“Ouch!” Kirby sucked her fingernail, a casualty of trying to open the new box of tea. The wrapping remained untouched, despite her torn and bent nail.

What did they make this stuff out of? Invisible steel? Forget breaking another fingernail over this. She was going for the big guns.

She yanked open the top kitchen drawer and rummaged around in the mess. Where had the scissors gone? The ringing phone interrupted her search.

“Hello, Kirby dear. I just wanted to give you a quick call and let you know that my nephew is moving in next door to you.”

“Hello, Ruth.” Kirby tucked the cordless phone against her shoulder and spotted the scissors in the back of the drawer. “I’ve already met Sam.”

“What did you think?”

Was that excitement in Ruth’s voice? “I think he’s, uh, well, it was interesting to meet him.”

“Oh, my.” The excitement faded into distress. “He wasn’t rude to you, was he? He comes across rather rough sometimes. He’s had a hard life, the poor man.”

She knew Ruth was dying to tell her, but Kirby wasn’t about to ask. It wasn’t her business and she didn’t listen to gossip. She didn’t want to know Sam’s hardships.

That wasn’t true. She was curious. What was the real scoop on that man?

Instead she said, “Sam told me he’s repairing the house for you, too.”

“That’s right—he’s a real hard worker. He’ll do a fine job. I know the kind of first impression he gives, but I promise you he’ll make a fine neighbor. My Sam’s dependable, strong, hardworking and honest. Why, he’s as good as the day is long, and the stories I could tell about him…”

What stories? Kirby wondered, but it wasn’t any of her business. Really. “I’m happy he’ll make a quiet and responsible neighbor. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine, now that my nephew has moved to town to help me out.”

Kirby jabbed the pointed tip of the scissors into the shrink-wrap. The plastic stuff gave way. Finally. “I suppose this means I’ll be seeing more of you, since you’ll be coming to visit Sam.”

“Yes. He’s a great cook. Did you know that?”

“No.” It was sweet, how much Ruth loved her nephew. “You’re proud of him, I can tell. It must mean the world to have him living close.”

“I’ll say! He’s been away, traveling the globe since he graduated from high school, but we’ve kept in touch over the years. I wrote him faithfully every week. And now here he is, taking care of so many troubles for me.”

Sam did look as though he could solve any problem. After she hung up, Kirby rose on her tiptoes and could see him perfectly through her kitchen window. He was in his backyard tossing a huge orange plastic bone. His enormous black dog leaped like a puppy, knocking into shrubs and bounding over flowers as he raced after his toy. Leo loped back with the bone lodged in his powerful jaws and dropped it onto Sam’s waiting hand.

It wasn’t the dog she noticed, but the man. How he rubbed his dog’s head with a strong but kind touch. Sam looked different. With his guard down, he almost appeared good-hearted. As strong as steel, as powerful as a midnight storm, but benevolent.

He’s dependable, strong, hardworking and honest. Those were a few more of her requirements, right there. Kirby wanted a husband she could respect and look up to. Not that Sam Gardner was that man.

What else had Ruth said about him? He’s had a hard life.

What happened to him? Kirby wondered.

“This is the last one.” His distant rumble rose on the breeze blowing through the open window. “One more throw, then we’ve got to fix the fence. Can’t have you running loose, you big menace. It’s bad manners to accost pretty ladies.”

The menace barked in happy agreement, hopping and leaping in anticipation, his attention on the enormous plastic bone. Sam’s laughter and the warm vibration of his voice lifted and fell according to the wind’s whim. There was something vulnerable in him, this big strong man, playing with his dog.

A hard life, huh? She wondered about that as she watched him kneel to rub Leo’s ruff. Then he disappeared into the house, the dog shadowing him.

When Sam appeared again, he was wearing his tool belt and hauling a small bucket that rattled when he came around to her side gate.

“Hey, I’m about to trespass,” he called from below the window.

She was out of his line of sight, and he hadn’t looked over at her once. How did he know where she was? Did he know she’d been watching him?

“I’m surprised you’re using the gate. I thought you might just climb over the fence instead.”

“I would, but I don’t want to set a bad example for Leo. Hey, hello there, pup.”

Her spaniel’s bark rose in a happy greeting as Kirby hit the switch on the iced tea maker.

“That’s some watchdog you got there,” he called through the screen door. “What does she do? Invite burglars into the yard?”

“Only once, and he wasn’t a burglar.” Kirby stared at him hard.

“Hey, insult me and I won’t fix the fence.”

“My dog isn’t the one getting out.” She pushed open the screen door to join him on the back deck. “I almost have your tea ready. It’s brewing right now.”

“Brewing? You don’t use the mix?”

“From a can? Don’t insult me. When I promised you tea, I meant the real thing.” She led the way to the back of the property, where a few boards leaned against the fence beneath the shade of a giant maple.

“The real thing? I don’t know.” He hefted the awkward boards as if they weighed nothing at all. “I think that’s too wholesome for me. I need the fake stuff with all the chemicals and artificial flavors, or I could go into shock. Then who’d fix your fence?”

“I’m a nurse practitioner. I’d save your life.”

“Great. You’d revive me so I could go back to work.”

“I’d revive you because I took an oath. And because you’re my new quiet neighbor. The one who won’t play loud music at night.”

“Are you hinting at something?” Acting as if puzzled, he hauled the hammer from his battered leather tool belt. “I’ll have to remind my fellow biker gang members to keep it down when we gather at midnight to shoot off our illegal firearms.”

Oh, he thought he was funny when he was no such thing. The tea was probably ready, so she headed back to the house. “Can I get you anything? I have cookies.”

“Cookies are too sweet for me. They might ruin my sour disposition.”

“How about a lemon?”

The little spaniel skipped after her, clearly in love with her owner and, to Sam’s shock, Leo took after Kirby, too, his tongue lolling, his gait snappy, that sappy loving look in his big eyes.

“Hey, get back here!” he commanded, and the dog gave him a sad expression. It was an embarrassment, that’s what. “Oh, don’t complain. Come here.”

He didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Kirby was nice and seemed lovely, but she was a woman. Like half the people on the planet.

He shoved a bunch of climbing rose canes aside. Yep, she was a woman. Flowers and tidy weeded flower beds and those little figurine things stuck here and there. A birdbath and stepping stones with designs on them.

He was glad he was in charge of his own destiny. Being alone was a good thing. He didn’t need anyone and he didn’t need ceramic stepping stones.

As he dug through his bucket for the right size of galvanized nails, he heard her phone ring inside the house. He could see her kitchen through the big back window. Tidy and cozy and as ruffly and bright as a magazine cover.

It looked homey. There she was, leaning against the white counter, the phone tucked against her shoulder, talking while she poured sparkling tea into a tall glass.

She sure made a pretty picture. His chest ached with the power of it. He supposed it was the image she made, standing there like an advertisement for all that was good in the world. Clean counters and polished wood and every knickknack in place. With a smile that shone as genuine as the sun.

Not that he believed in that kind of goodness anymore.

Goodness? No. God? Yes. Peace? Yes. That’s what he believed in.

After too many years as a soldier and then as a corporate pilot flying head honchos anywhere in the world they needed to go, he just wanted a home. Peace and quiet. To be content and enjoy his life. Just him and Leo.

He drove the nail in sure and deep with one whack of the hammer. Pinned his elbow on the board and drove in a second nail. A third.

“That was my sister.” She came up from behind him, her steps hushed in the soft grass. Ice cubes rattled as she set down glass and pitcher, both topped with sliced lemons.

Thoughtful.

“I’ve got to run in and help her with the coffee shop. She’s shorthanded. Do you need anything else? I’ll leave the back door unlocked. Just help yourself.”

“Sure, okay.” He didn’t look at her as he drove another nail home. “I’ll lock up when I finish.”

“Okay. Thanks, Sam.”

“I’ve got to ask you something.” He nailed the next board into place. “This has really been bothering me. I’ve had some neighbor disasters, too.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“Are you a partying kind of girl? I’m praying that you’re a quiet sort of woman who doesn’t play music all hours of the night. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Funny.” She slung her slim black purse over her shoulder. “Give my regards to your biker friends.”

Her wink made him chuckle, and it warmed him down to his bones. One thing about Kirby—he liked her sense of humor.

But that was all.

She swept away from him, like grace and spring and peace all rolled up into one perfect human being. He wasn’t looking for a wife. Not by a long shot. But she was fine.

Very fine, indeed.




Chapter Four


Her house was dark—not surprising considering the late hour. The green glow from the clock on the stove, showing 3:15, cast enough illumination to guide her around the corner of the island. She padded on bare feet to the cupboard and reached for her favorite oversize mug by feel.

As she flicked on the cold water faucet, she swore she could smell the faint hint of Sam’s woodsy scent, and it was pleasant. The image of him working on her backyard fence shot into her mind. The afternoon sun had burnished his broad back and his arm muscles had flexed while he drove the nails home.

Fixing her fence for a glass of iced tea. What kind of man did that?

A man who named his ferocious-looking dog Leo, that’s who. A man whose aunt sang his praises as if he were perfect in every way.

You’ve thought about him enough today, okay? Kirby popped open the microwave door, and the interior light burned like a beacon in the darkness as she placed the cup inside. She loved the embossed image of a wet, rumpled cartoon cat in a puddle that said Nothing Is Ever Simple.

That was her life slogan. She shut the door, hit the two-minute button and listened to the machine whir. Sam. There she was, thinking about him again. And what was wrong with that? Everything.

Especially having a conversation about him with herself at three in the morning.

The light from the microwave showed her tidy sink and counter. After coming home from helping out at the coffee shop and having dinner with her sisters, she’d expected to find Sam’s glass and tray left on the counter. But no, he’d rinsed the dishes, put them in the dishwasher. All by himself.

Okay, that was a bonus requirement. One that wasn’t on her list. Maybe she should add it. Right under “man of faith,” she would add “does dishes.” Not a bad attribute for her future Mr. Right to have.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the fence repair was perfect. Through the night shadows around her back porch light she could just make out the unbroken row of boards that proved Sam Gardner completed even small jobs with care.

All those jokes he’d made about being a biker or in a rock band made her smile, even in the lonely night. He was probably a pretty good plumber. And he was here to stay.

She could see his house perfectly through the spreading branches of the lilac trees outside her kitchen window. His windows were dark, his house silent.

Pure blessed quiet.

Thank You, Father, for sending me this wonderful neighbor. She appreciated the stillness, but of course tonight had to be the night she couldn’t sleep. She hated insomnia. Too much on her mind—the practical worries of life like mortgage payments and school loan payments and remembering she needed to give notice at the hospital where she did shift work.

She told herself it was better to worry about all of her responsibilities than what was truly troubling her.

She wouldn’t think about the accident. Or about the dreams that had troubled her more frequently after the medevac crash last month.

The microwave binged, and Kirby retrieved the steaming cup. She dug a bag of her favorite sweet chamomile tea from the third drawer next to the stove. The paper around the bag crinkled in the quiet, and down the hall came the muffled sound of the little dog yipping in her sleep. Maybe Jessie was chasing birds in the backyard in her little doggy dreams.

The phone rang, loud and harsh in the peaceful kitchen. The tea bag tumbled from her fingers. Startled, she sprinted across the short distance to the other end of the kitchen. The caller ID told her that it was business.

Being on call was a nurse’s life.

She snatched up the receiver before the phone could ring a third time.

Stars were everywhere, sending out enough glow to light them up like a beacon, but the rendezvous was a go. Sam never backed down from a mission. It was a challenge, that was all. He was one of the best pilots he knew, and tonight he had to be at his best. He flew so low the whack of treetops against their belly made his navigator nervous.

Flying nap of the earth kept him sharp. On his toes. The intel had been good. Good enough, at least, to keep him several clicks south of trouble. He liked to stay away from enemy soldiers who might happen to be armed with missile launchers. Launched missiles weren’t so good for his helicopter.

It looked like easy flying tonight, and his navigator said so. Mark. They’d gone through boot camp together. Buddies to the end.

“You’re as crazy as ever, Gardner, but tonight looks like a cakewalk. Wait—”

Then the sky lit up. Fire and a deafening crack of metal exploding—

Sam jerked awake, disoriented, the dream still rolling in his mind, frame after frame of fire and death and fighting for calm.

He wasn’t falling out of the sky in hostile territory. He was safe in his new bed in his new room. Even the sheets were new. The memories faded, but the experience of it didn’t. No, that fateful night and its far-reaching effects stayed with him. Still.

He swiped his hand over his face and encountered damp. He had sweat bullets and his hair was drenched. It was the move—any change brought up the dreams—but it was more than that. Much more.

A dog snore broke the silence, followed by the scrape, scrape of dog paws on the floor. Leo was dreaming again, digging and running. Sam knew how fine it was to have good dreams, so he was careful not to wake his dog as he felt his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

He still went over the what ifs in his mind. There had been no warning, nothing. Mechanical failures happened. It was a fact. He believed as a Christian that all things happened for a reason.

It seemed odd that he’d learned that night and for too many nights following how cruel people could be. Even his own wife.

Old wounds. Deep scars. He fought to clear his mind of the nightmare. He checked the refrigerator—nothing in it because he’d drunk the last root beer after grabbing dinner at the local drive-in.

Empty-handed, he kicked open the back door and sat on the top porch step, head in his hands, his heart in pieces. The memory had sunk deep claws into him. He was still hooked, still haunted, unable to keep his mind in the present.

He could hear the beat of the blades as he fought the controls. He’d taken a hit and the radio was suddenly full of chatter, a mission gone wrong, injured SEALs at the LZ, under fire and in need. He was their only ticket to safety and he was going down….

Why was this haunting him tonight?

He let the temperate night air cool the sweat on his brow, and he knew why—the reason lived right next door.

She’d made him think of Carla, of his mistakes, of wrongs that could never be righted. Failings that could only be forgiven and handed over to the Lord.

He saw goodness in Kirby.

When he didn’t believe in real goodness. Not anymore.

The phone rang, a sharp blast of sound that saved him. He hauled his tired carcass up off the step and snared the receiver on the third ring. It was someone in need. A sick child needing a lifesaving flight to the hospital in Seattle, the nearest medical facility with the emergency care she required.

He was the pilot who’d volunteered to fly anyone who needed it.

He slammed down the phone, renewed, energized. With a purpose. Thanks, Father.

A mission was exactly what he needed. To focus his thoughts and give him a sense of purpose. Sam grabbed his keys, his shoes and his jeans and was out the door in ten seconds flat.

The local private airport was dark and still in the early-morning hours as Kirby pulled off the two-lane road and into the paved parking lot. Lord, You know I hate to fly. Give me strength. Please.

There was no time to waste. She hauled her medical bag out of the trunk. Who was going to pilot the flight? Chet always piloted the flights she volunteered for, but he’d up and sold the airfield two weeks ago. Retired to Lake Havasu, Arizona, where there were no cold winters to trouble his worsening arthritis.

She hadn’t heard who’d replaced him as a volunteer. Would it be the new owner of the airport? There were a few chopper pilots around. Maybe it would be Ed, who flew with the county search and rescue.

Her sneakers crunched on the gravel. The airfield was still this time of night. Everything was dark. The modest tower, the hangars lined in tiny rows off to the side, the mown fields that smelled of sweet bunchgrass and wildflowers. A wild rabbit scampered out of her way as she followed the path toward a helicopter set out in the middle of the tarmac.

Not a chopper she recognized. Newer than many she’d flown in. Whoever was flying tonight, he couldn’t be too bad of a man. To donate a flight and all that went with it spoke of deep pockets and a generous spirit.

Wait. Was that him? She caught a brief movement. A man’s tall form, all but shadow, circled out from behind the chopper, a clipboard in hand. Doing his preflight check. Kirby knew she couldn’t be heard over the beat of the blades and the whine of the engines, so she tried to catch his attention with a wave.

He lifted his clipboard in recognition, a dark stranger of a man who remained faceless and formless in the shadows.

Since he’d seen her, she ducked, climbed aboard and settled in. She’d done this probably a hundred times. Chet’s medical equipment was up against the bulkhead. He’d probably donated it, knowing him, and she made sure the defibrillator and monitors were in working order.

She was belting into the jump seat in back when the pilot’s words, muffled by the noise of the helicopter, told her he was ready to go. Before Kirby could wonder if the pilot was going to introduce himself or she should go up front, another man’s shadow appeared.

“Hey, Kirby.” Jeremiah Clark, anesthesiologist, slammed the hatch behind him. “Looks like we’ve got a great new pilot. I have a lot of confidence in him. Have you met him?”

“No, I haven’t had the chance to.”

“He has a lot of combat flying experience. I always feel better with a veteran at the controls.” Once a marine, the doc dropped his gear and eased onto the seat next to her. “I’m glad Chet left us with a good replacement. Sam seems like a great guy. Once we’re airborne, you oughta go up and—”

“Sam?”

“Yep. Sam Gardner. He’s Ruth Gardner’s nephew. Ruth and my mom are in the gardening club together….”

Sam Gardner is the new pilot? The blood rushed from her head, leaving her dazed. She felt the faint movements and sounds of him up front, out of sight behind the panel of metal.

Sam, a pilot? She tried to picture it. She could. Sam’s confidence, the competence.

But he’s a plumber. Isn’t that what he’d said?

“He doesn’t own the airfield, too, does he?”

Jeremiah nodded. “Of course he does. Didn’t you hear?”

No, she hadn’t heard anything. That’s why she’d assumed he was a plumber. Not a pilot and a businessman with deep pockets and his own helicopter.

“Hope you’re strapped in, par’ners.” Sam’s voice boomed in her earpiece. “Let’s get this bird in the air.”

It was him. No doubt about it. Kirby couldn’t believe it.

But it did seem to fit. He was larger than life. Why not be a local Good Samaritan?

“Good having you at the controls, Sam,” Jeremiah said into his mouthpiece. “I don’t like flying, so take it easy on me, man.”

“I’ll do my best, Doc. Hold on tight, Kirby. We’re good to go.” Sam sounded confident, unshakable as the chopper’s blades whipped harder. “NASA, we have liftoff.”

They rose in a swinging bump that felt as if the earth had fallen out beneath them and they were rising straight up in a breathless sweep.

Jeremiah covered the mouthpiece. “We’ll miss Chet, but Sam’s good.”

She was better off not thinking about Sam right now. She was thinking about staying alive. Once she had a patient to care for, she’d be all right. But until then, she had entirely too much time on her hands to imagine the engine exploding. A blade breaking. Pieces of steel peeling off the side of the helicopter.




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