Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(42)

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Never gonna happen.”

“Obviously, what with you being out of the military and here now.”

“You could still write me if you wanted.”

“For what reason?”

“The thrill of entertaining me.”

“Thank you, no.”

She’d never been one to walk with a guy’s arm around her shoulders before. Eric hadn’t been tall enough, so they’d mostly held hands or just walked side by side. She was nestled close to him and there was plenty of body brushing and rubbing and bumping. It made her think about the kiss Ford hadn’t bothered to repeat. Which was just like a man.

Why wasn’t he kissing her? Did he not want to or did he think it wasn’t appropriate? She saw now that she should have gotten a detailed list of the fake-girlfriend perks.

“I’ve got a corporate guy coming into town next week,” Ford said. “We’re close to signing a deal with him.”

Isabel nodded and waited, not sure why he was sharing.

“He’s bringing his wife.”

“It’s too bad they missed the End of Summer Festival over Labor Day. There isn’t another one until the Fall Festival in two weeks. Are they staying that long?”

“No. They’re here overnight. I thought the four of us could go to dinner.”

She shrugged out of his arm and faced him. “Dinner? With your clients?”

“You’re my girlfriend. Who else would I take?”

“Why can’t you go alone?” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “This is only about faking out your mother.”

“And the town.”

“I don’t want to think about that.”

They’d paused by the park, where it was quiet. Across the street, tourists went in and out of Brew-haha. She would guess Noelle was getting plenty of business in her store, as well.

“Come on,” he said gently. “A nice dinner with some nice people. It’ll be fun.”

She wasn’t concerned that she wouldn’t have a good time. Ford was so easy to be with. He knew when to be funny and when to be serious. They had an easy rhythm together. It was just...

Her gaze settled on his mouth. It was like the kissing, she thought. She wanted to know where things stood.

“Sure,” she told him. “But in return, you have to go to an estate sale with me.”

His hands came up in a gesture of protection, even as he took a step back. “An estate sale? But I’m not a woman.”

She said nothing and waited.

His hands dropped to his sides. “That’s playing dirty.”

“It’s my deal. Take it or leave it.”

He actually ground the toe of his athletic shoe into the sidewalk, just as if he were eight.

“All right,” he grumbled. “I’ll go to the estate sale with you if you’ll do my corporate dinner.”

She linked arms with him. “Now, was that so hard?”

“Ask me after the estate sale.”

* * *

FORD PUSHED THE LAWN MOWER to the sidewalk and then turned to make the return trip. The afternoon was sunny and warm, but already the leaves were starting to turn. In a few weeks, Isabel was going to have to get the sprinklers blown out so they wouldn’t freeze over the winter.

A blue Prius pulled into the driveway and Isabel got out. She wore black pants and a blue blouse that matched her eyes. Her hair was curled on the ends and she had on makeup. Her usual work look.

“Hey,” he called and stopped the lawn mower. “Sell any dresses today?”

She walked toward him. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve never seen a lawn mower before?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I have. So why are you mowing my lawn?”

“We’re dating. Boyfriends do that sort of thing.” He pointed to the bags stacked by the front of the garage door. “I’m going to feed your lawn later. Give it a last boost before it gets cold.”

“Thank you,” she told him. “This is really nice and you don’t have to do it.”

“I can’t help it. I’m a nice guy. A nice guy who shouldn’t have to go to an estate sale.”

“Sorry,” she told him. “A deal’s a deal.” She started toward the house. “Get back to work.”

He grinned and started the lawn mower.

After finishing the last few passes, he emptied the clippings into the yard-waste bin, then put the lawn mower away. Later in the week he was going to take it to the local hardware store for an end-of-season cleaning and blade sharpening.

He got out the mechanical spreader and dumped the organic fertilizer into it, then began to make his passes across the lawn. He did the front first, then moved to the backyard. By the time he was done, he was hot and sweaty. He was about to take the spreader to the garage when Isabel appeared on the back porch.

She’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Her feet were bare. She had two beers in one hand and a plate with chips and salsa in the other. He joined her on the patio.

“Exactly what I needed,” he said, reaching for one of the beers.

“The least I can do,” she told him and headed for the house. “I’ll be right back.”