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* * *
“GO HELP HER.”
Standing at the sliding glass door that led out to a small private patio and yard separated by a two-foot-high wall from the small private patio and backyard next door, Mark watched the petite woman sitting on the ground reading instructions. Her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, almost touched the ground.
“You help someone do what they can do for themselves, you make them helpless,” he said to the woman who’d just rolled up behind him.
“You let her do for herself, she discovers her own strength,” Nonnie corrected behind him. And then, with a snort, added, “Don’t be an idiot, Mark. You know the context. And that clearly is not something she should be trying to do herself.”
He did know. He also wanted to see what the blonde pixie was going to do next. He’d been home for an hour and on his way out the door to help his new neighbor wrestle the box out of her trunk, when the unwieldy box had slid expertly down the plank she’d set for it.
He’d watched as it landed evenly on a two-wheeler, which she’d then pulled with little effort.
Impressed, he’d walked to the back of the duplex that was larger than the house he’d grown up in back home, expecting to see someone—the husband, maybe—back there waiting to help her.
Instead, she’d opened the box, read the instructions and was now working on putting the thing together on her own.
Fascinating.
In Bierly, the women he knew asked for help first. And got it, too.
No strings attached.
“Go help her, boy. Now!”
And he’d been afraid the cross-country trip would be more than Nonnie’s frail, disease-ridden body could handle.
* * *
“DO YOU MIND if I lend a hand?”
For a second Addy wondered if the heat was getting to her when she glanced up to see the dark-haired, exquisitely proportioned man climbing over her wall from the unit that adjoined her temporary new home.
The navy muscle shirt and navy-and-white running shorts he wore framed his assets perfectly.
Wow.
“You aren’t the older woman who lives there,” she said inanely, certain now that the heat had done a number on her.
“No, I’m her grandson.”
Made sense. The woman probably had family all over town stopping in to check on her—help her out.
Shelter Valley was like that.
She might have been a little kid when she’d been shipped off to Colorado, but even at that young age, she’d been aware of the camaraderie and neighborliness of the folks in the town where she’d been born. A whole group of them had gathered downtown to wave goodbye as she’d ridden off in her grandmother’s car.
“Lucky woman,” she said under her breath, and then winced. That had come out louder than she’d intended. What in the hell was the matter with her? She was around good-looking men all the time. And didn’t care one way or the other.
His grin unsteadied her nerves. “What was that?”
“I said it’s my lucky day.” Addy straightened up to her full height and passed him the sheet of instructions. “If you could just lift that basin, I’ll guide the tube and then I can get the rest.”
She’d just lied. She’d said “lucky woman,” not some tripe about “her lucky day.” Adrianna Keller, straight-and-narrow line walker, had knowingly and deliberately told an untruth for no other reason than to protect herself from further embarrassment.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I don’t think that’s what you said.” His grin had grown into a full-blown smile. But there was something kind about the glint in his eye.
“That’s quite the accent you have there, cowboy.” She figured two could play this game.
