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“We could use the extra muscle if you’re not busy. Please?”
The teasing tone makes me laugh.
Her touch annihilates my instinct to make up excuses.
“Will do, Willow Wisp. Just let me get the groceries inside first.”
“Great idea.” She gives a knowing nod. “Fresh food to make sure I don’t kill you.”
I flash her a wink before my head pops off.
Hours later, I step out from a break in the shade, delving the shovel deep in the ground and staring at the long line of granite stepping stones we’ve uncovered. My ma’s old path was buried so long I’d totally forgotten about it till now.
Willow works on her hands and knees, using a hand trowel to even out the freshly churned dirt between the stones and the house, clearing stray grass and weeds.
“So you’re a horticulturist, too?” I ask.
She sits down on the ground and looks up at me with a smile that rivals gold.
“No, but my father’s housekeeper is plant crazy. Thanks to Margo, I’ve weeded a whole lot of flower beds in my life, and I know the difference between what to pluck and what to leave growing. You actually have a lot of nice plants still trying to thrive.”
My brows go up. “After all these years? Damn, lady.”
“They’ve just gone dormant, waiting for someone to come along and give them a little TLC.”
Plants, I remind myself. She’s talking about the frigging plants, man.
Not you.
It’s all too easy to forget.
Her upturned face and soft, sweet words make something of mine sprout, that’s for damn sure. Shifting my weight awkwardly, I try to hide the sledgehammer in my pants, angry and throbbing and ready to take her.
A little more rage-digging at the ground sets me right again.
I pull my eyes off her, looking at the girls as they scamper over. They’re just as dirtied up as we are, loving this whole mini-landscaping endeavor.
They’re also sweaty and red in a way that worries me.
“You know you picked the hottest day of the year for this project? I want you both drinking at least four cups of water by supper,” I say.
“H2O break time!” Willow says, climbing to her feet and pulling the thick gloves off.
“Okay!” Sawyer says. “I’ll grab some bottles out of the fridge.”
“What?” Willow asks, shaking her head. “We’re in the middle of the country, aren’t we?”
She walks over and turns on the spigot for the hose with a lingering look back at me, waiting for my input.
“Should be safe. The water’s drawn from old wells running deep underground around here. Go ahead and give ’em a drink,” I call back.
“Gather round, everybody,” she says with a wicked grin.
Then I watch as Willow lets the water run long enough for the hose to push out the hot water from the sun before she dips those heart-shaped lips to the spray for a drink.
“Delicious!” She smiles, wiping her chin.
She’s too right for all the wrong reasons.
I think my blood warms to a hundred and twenty degrees.
Thankfully, she can’t read my filthy mind.
She just holds up the hose with more water burbling out and calls out to us.
“Neeext!”
The girls totter over laughing, and I’m right behind them. They drink their fill from the hose before passing it to me. Just as I bend over to take a drink, the water stops.
Glancing over, I see Willow kinking the hose with her foot like the firestarter she is.
I don’t take the bait, keeping my face back safely from the end. I dagger her with a glare that could make this oven-hot day into January.
Sawyer and Avery notice the scene and start laughing.
“Oh, come on! A little fun never killed you, cranky-face.” Laughing, she finally unkinks it, and I drink like a horse that’s just come in from a desert trail.
Rather, I try.
As soon as I start, the she-witch chokes off my water supply again.
I stiffen, trying like hell not to smile at the smirk she’s beaming back. It’s almost as hard as resisting the urge to stalk over and drag her off someplace where I can punish that sweet ass.
The girls are on the grass rolling now like it’s the funniest damn thing they’ve ever seen.
Little traitors.
“Oops. Clumsy me.” With a coy laugh, Willow drops the hose and steps away so I can drink up.
And I do, taking long, furious sips to cool off as much as calm my ass down.
After one of my thirsts is satisfied, I decide I’m not gonna sit back and take it.
Time for Willow Macklin to learn you do not fuck with an Army sniper raising two girls on his lonesome.
Before she can guess what I’m planning, I grip the hose in my hands, the spray muted by my fingers, and run.
She’s frozen, wide-eyed and staring as I come charging at her like a bull.
Once we’re just a few feet apart, that’s when I let loose, turning the hose’s full, glorious force on her.
