Hidden Summit (Virgin River #17)(22)

She put a hand on her hip. “You’re getting a little obvious. Are you flirting with me?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I’m not a good flirt. I brought my own gear. Shovel, spade, aerator. I also brought mulch and fertilizer. I assumed you weren’t prepared for me to show up with, ah, stock.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “What makes you think I want to spend the whole day with you?”

“I thought if I brought enough pretty flora, I’d grow on you.”

“Conner…” She shook her head.

“Leslie…” He just smiled at her.

“All right, you can do the hard part. Make the ground ready.”

“See, I haven’t lost my touch after all.” And he hefted a big flat of daisies out of his truck and followed her.

Several hours later Conner found himself making Leslie smile a lot, making her laugh, making her think he was a regular prince with his hard work on the yard and his flowers. It was just like riding a bike. They broke for lunch and Leslie fed him a sandwich, though she barely nibbled. When he saw the difference in their lunch plates he asked, “Are you getting enough to eat?”

“I’m a little thinner than is usual for me,” she said. “Divorce diet. I’ve been working on keeping it off. Eating right, yoga and all that.”

“You can take on quite a bit more weight before you’re too fat,” he said.

She frowned. “I don’t know whether to say thank-you or ask you to leave.”

“Are you worrying about your hips? Because a little something to grab on to looks good on a woman.”

“Let me guess—you missed the class on flattery,” she said.

“Seriously, Les. You don’t want to be too thin. Eat. I’ll keep bringing flowers for you to plant even if you grow a butt.”

“Stop being such a guy, Conner,” she said.

“Well, I could try, if that’s what you want....”

But that wasn’t what she wanted at all. Watching him flex his shoulders and arms while digging, watching him crouch so that his hard thighs were emphasized, it was all so much fun. And when he caught her looking, more fun. Leslie loved having him underfoot.

It took a long time to place all those flowers. By the time the afternoon sun was sinking in the west, most of Leslie’s yard was flush with color. Flowers lined her front and back porches, her walk, her fence in the backyard, bobbed in a ring around the trees in the yard and the mailbox. And the two of them were filthy.

“Wow,” she said. “You’re a lot more ambitious than I am.”

“Like I said, I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Been a long time since I brought a woman flowers.”

“They sell those in the grocery store, you know. Five bucks, you put ’em in a vase, the woman thinks you’re a real catch.”

The smile again, dimple and all. “I didn’t want to leave any doubt.”

She thought about that briefly. “Listen, we can have this discussion later, about how my mission here has nothing to do with getting involved with a man. But for now I want you to put away all the garden stuff and wash your hands. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get us takeout at Jack’s. I’m too exhausted to even make us sandwiches and too dirty to eat at the bar.”

She took off her shoes, brushed her jeans free of dirt and went inside to wash her hands and grab her purse.

She returned just ten minutes later with a brown paper bag and two bottles of beer. “I have a half bottle of Merlot on the counter, but I’ve never seen you drink wine.” She lifted the bottles. “Will this do it for you?”

“You are a goddess.”

She looked down at herself. Dirty, disheveled, exhausted. “You must be more desperate than you look.”

Leslie served up the dinner while Conner scrubbed his hands. While they sat at her little table with Preacher’s slow-cooked ribs, potato salad and beans, they talked about safe things—being Catholic, having a sibling or being an only child, missing parents versus being close to parents. She was distracted by the deep blue of his eyes and the fact that he’d arrived in the morning with his cheeks clean-shaven and now his beard was growing in. They toasted the yard, clinking wineglass to beer bottle. They talked about work; they gossiped about some of the crew and laughed over Dan’s proclivity for shedding his prosthetic leg to work and balancing with an empty pant leg flapping in the wind.

“I didn’t know he was an amputee,” Leslie said.

“Neither did I, until I came to work and saw a leg lying on the floor. He’s better on one leg than most of us are on two.” He drained his second beer. “I’ll help you wash up and store the leftovers.”

“No, you won’t. I think you’ve put in a long enough day. I’ll walk you to the door.” And once there, she turned toward him and said, “Thank you, Conner. It’s beautiful and it turned into a fun day.”

He slipped his hands to her waist and pulled her in for a hug. “I had a good time,” he said. She patted his upper arms, and when she tried to pull back, he held on. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, letting out a small, low moan.

“I’m all sweaty from yard work,” she whispered.