The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(30)

“Wow, you’re potty training him,” Brittney said with admiration. “None of us have been able to talk him into it. What did you do?”

Maddox came back into the kitchen and held out his hand, palm up.

Brooke slapped a piece of candy into it. “Bribed him,” she said to Brittney.

Brittney grinned. “Nice.”

“So you’ll stay?”

She nodded.

Brooke felt hugely relieved. “Thanks. I’ll make dinner.”

“And I’ll do the bedtime thing,” Brittney said.

Since bedtime was utter chaos—“I need water,” “I need another story,” “He’s looking at me!”—this was a good deal for her.

After dinner, Brooke happily made her way out to the porch for a few minutes of quiet. There she went through some work emails while having three separate text convos with Mindy, Tommy, and Cole.

Mindy told her that no, she still hadn’t actually talked to Linc. They’d been texting, though, and he was due to come home tomorrow night at some point.

Perfect. Brooke looked forward to some answers. Or ass-kicking. Whichever was required.

Her text conversation with Tommy was about Mindy. She was apparently doing great, but Tommy missed Brooke. Good to know. He wanted to know if she needed him. She told him not to come up because one, there were no strip clubs, and two, she was coming back the second Mindy got her ass home, and that if he wanted to aid the cause, he’d stop doing her sister’s hair and taking her out at night for all the fun.

Cole also wanted to know if she was okay and when she was coming back. She told him she was fine, that she needed to do this for Mindy, and that she’d see him soon.

Tucking her phone into her pocket, she stared out at the view. It was that time of year when the days were getting as long as the shadows and the sun stayed warm until it set. At the moment, it was nearly gone behind the horizon. The temps would drop fast now, along with the daylight. She watched the last of it work its magic on the land, casting the sea of vineyards and rolling green hills beneath a glow of gold.

The beauty took her breath.

Or maybe that was the man about twenty feet away, crouched low in front of the hose spigot, cleaning off what looked like dry wall tools. As the day turned to night, she watched, transfixed by his efficient movements. He almost didn’t even seem real to her. He was a past crush, and there was too much bad history. She kept telling herself this, but it didn’t stop her from wanting him.

Good thing lust was different from love.

From the other side of the fence, the one that belonged to the neighbor to the right of Mindy and Linc, a horse stretched her neck and used her big head to give Garrett a shove between his shoulder blades.

He turned his head and smiled at the horse. “Hey, Moose. Feeling neglected?”

Moose snorted.

Garrett laughed, the sound low and sexy and dangerously contagious. Knowing damn well that he knew she was on the porch watching him, Brooke said, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to talk to strangers?”

“She’s not a stranger. She’s a neighbor.” He sent Moose a long look. “A grumpy, stubborn one.”

“Is she aware that you’re also grumpy and stubborn?”

He didn’t try to deny this, and when the horse gave Garrett another shove, he rose to his feet. “Fine. You win.” And he held out the hose.

Moose took a long drink and then tossed her head, spraying Garrett with water. He was in jeans, a gray henley, and battered hiking boots, all of which were now splattered with drops of water.

“Not cute,” he said, and wiped his face.

From over the fence, the horse set her big head on Garrett’s shoulder.

“So all the females fall all over themselves to please you,” Brooke said.

“Not all.”

Their gazes met, and Brooke’s stupid heart gave a hard kick.

Clearly not liking the competition, Moose gave Brooke the side-eye and pressed her big face to Garrett’s. He simply took Moose’s affection as his due, reaching up to stroke the horse’s jaw. When Moose had finally had her fill, she turned and walked away.

Garrett looked at Brooke. “You thirsty?” He held out the hose as he had for Moose.

It was practically a dare. So she took the hose and twisted it, letting the water hit him in the chest. “Oops. My bad,” she said, waving the hose around a little, making sure to get him wet everywhere before carefully bringing the water back toward herself to drink. She got one good swallow in before he snaked an arm around her, clamping her tight to his chest.

She braced for him to take control of the hose and douse her, but he didn’t. He liberated it from her hand and dropped it to the ground before wrapping his other arm around her as well, making her realize he didn’t have to nail her with the hose. Nope, his torture was far more subtle as he pressed his entire body into the back of hers. Since she’d drenched him, he was able to get her just as wet without trying, and she gasped at the chilly water suctioning her to him. She fought for a moment to get free, in case anyone in the house was looking out the windows, then realized it was already dark. No one could see them. “I suppose you think this is funny.”

“It’s payback.”

“For squirting you, or . . . ?” She broke off, unable to bring herself to say it. The past.