“Ladybugs are our friends.” Landon comes up behind me and pulls me into a hug, surprising me. “And we shouldn’t drown our friends.”
Sure enough, a poor little rosy, spotted beetle is fighting for its life, clinging to a leaf that’s hanging in the pool of water I created.
I shoot Landon a look over my shoulder and free myself from his arms so I can move the insect to safer territory.
“Hi,” he says when I look back, his light green eyes bright. Spring eyes, that’s what they are. The color of soft, new grass and inviting meadows.
Knock it off, Lacey.
“Hi.” I slip my phone into my pocket and tug the hose down to the next barrel.
Landon follows me. “Any reason in particular you felt the need to make a swamp in that barrel?”
“I was talking to Paige.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Did you come to criticize my gardening skills, or did you need something?”
“Mostly, I came to criticize your gardening skills.”
He leaps back when I point the hose at him and use my thumb to direct the spray. Recovering from his surprise quickly, he darts forward, soaking wet, trying to wrestle the hose from me.
“No!” I yelp, laughing as he manages to point it right at me. The water iscold.
A car slowly makes its way down the road, and we immediately stop, afraid we’ll spray it instead of each other. A man about my uncle’s age scowls at us as he rolls down the window. “That’s an irresponsible use of water.”
“Sorry,” I say, biting back a different sort of response.
Landon nods, looking contrite.
With a beady-eyed glare, the man continues.
Landon glances at me once the camper is out of earshot, trying not to smirk. “See that? You got us in trouble.”
I shoot him a look.
He leans close. “Imagine how horrified he would be if he knew you tried to murder a ladybug—one of the most beneficial of the garden insects.”
Before I go back to my chore, I point the hose at him again—just for a moment. “Go away.”
He holds up his hands, grinning as water drips from his chin. “Want to go into town and try out the miniature golf course after you get done working?”
“It’s pretty run down.”
“So that’s a yes?”
I go back to watering the flowers instead of Landon and grin because my back is toward him. “Yes.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Is it real gold?”Caleb asks, skeptical of my activity. He narrows his eyes at the sand-filled kiddie pool.
“No, but it kind of looks like gold,” I tell him.
“And you can trade it in for prizes when we’re finished,” Landon adds.
That’s enough to convince Caleb to grab a sand sifter and join the other kids, and I shoot Landon a grateful look.
