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She’d been weeding for hours, thinking she’d have breakfast once her guest left the house. Who’d have known that wouldn’t be until after noon?
“And you decided a temporary job in Last Stand sounded like a fun way to spend the summer?”
She bristled. “It seemed like a good opportunity to see another part of the country. Does it matter?”
“My mother is a soft touch. She likes to take people at face value and trust her gut when it comes to hiring help.” He stared at her over the brim of his coffee mug as he lifted it. “Me, I like background checks. References. That sort of thing.”
“I’m hardly a felon.” She also couldn’t argue much about his mom since she’d appreciated Hailey’s faith in her good character. Josie hadn’t trusted her one and only work reference—aka, her mom—not to throw her under the bus based on their fiery parting.
“Excellent news.” He sipped his coffee while her stomach growled. “You’re out of creamer, by the way. And sugar. And everything else.”
She was actually surprised he’d found coffee. She’d thought she’d finished off the little she’d scavenged from the pantry. But she was exceedingly grateful for a timely change of topic.
“Who needs sugar when there is an abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables?” She gestured to the garden around her, remembering how much money she was saving by not visiting the grocery store. “And Last Stand has an interesting history, by the way. I was excited for the chance to spend some time here.”
“A historiananda health nut,” he mused, his scowl easing while he badgered her. “I’ll have to be careful not to bring around any pie from Char-Pie so I don’t tempt you unnecessarily.”
“Pie? I’m a healthy eater, not a masochist.” She was suddenly hungry enough to march into the nearby orchard and start tearing peaches off the tree, but she didn’t want to let him know he was getting to her. “I would be offended if you didn’t share good pie.”
“I stand corrected.” He set down his coffee mug on a small outdoor table and sauntered closer, looking cool and composed in the heat that was stewing her alive. “In that case, I’ll pick up a pie to thank you for letting me spend the night.”
She refused to be goaded by that last comment, however. Even if she itched to set the record straight that she most definitely hadn’tlethim spend the night. She’d been coerced.
He stood close enough to smile down at her. Close enough for her to appreciate the outline of muscle visible under his T-shirt.
“How kind of you. Coconut cream is my favorite, in case you were wondering.” She hadn’t had a taste of white, refined sugar in weeks. The honey the local bees made was good. And the fresh fruit was amazing. But nothing quite took the place of good, old-fashioned cane sugar.
“You haven’t tried Char-Pie’s French silk.”
She shouldn’t think about French silk and this man in the same conversation. Besides, he was surely just teasing her to get a rise out of her. To get under her skin. She might have once believed that swindler Tom Belvedere had been interested in her, but evenshewasn’t gullible enough to think this very hot, very self-assured, gorgeous man was flirting with her.
Some men just couldn’t turn off that mode. It was how they related to the female world.
“I’m not picky.” She repositioned the hoe so it stood between them, accidentally fanning a light spray of dirt over their shoes when she moved it.
He glanced down at his Italian leather loafers and then back up at her, his green eyes narrowing a fraction.
“If you went into town with me, you could see the selection for yourself,” he suggested easily. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have a vehicle of your own, which makes me wonder—”
“No. Thank you.” She pivoted on her heel and headed toward the potting shed to put her gardening gear away. “I’ve got lots to keep me busy here.”
She couldn’t afford to spend any more time with him when he clearly enjoyed prying into her life, asking too many questions. She was afraid he might hound her further about her past or her plans. Or ask her about references and experience she didn’t have. But before she reached the potting shed, she spied his grandfather up the dirt road that divided the two properties, pushing his walker over the pitted path.
“There’s Everett,” she announced, pointing behind Cal. “He’ll be glad to see you.”
And, just like his surly relative, he swore twice.
“I’ll be back later to get my bags,” he warned her, the scowl returning now in full measure. “We can talk about why you don’t have a car, or groceries, or a bathrobe of your own.”
“I have my own bathrobe!” she shouted after him, though she doubted he heard her since he took off toward his grandfather at an impressive run. With any luck, Everett would keep him too busy to follow up on that conversation, because Josie had depleted her stall and diversion tactics for one day. The last thing she needed was for Cal Ramsey to start digging around in her past and potentially cost her the job at his mother’s house for the summer.
When Hailey Decker had hired her, Hailey hadn’t cared that Josie had no experience. Or references. But the truth was that she had both—she simply hadn’t wanted to share the details for fear her previous job would sink her chances of working anywhere else. Technically, she’d been fired because her mother had been angry with her—not for falling prey to a con per se, but for attempting to spend her money on an effort to leave home for good.
Of course, Josie’s mother had “fired” her in the past when she was angry. That usually amounted to docking her paycheck for a week to demonstrate displeasure about Josie siding with a tenant in a dispute, or calling in a contractor to fix something without her mother’s approval. Not this time.
So who knew what Cal might find if he decided to look into her past? A bad reference and lack of experience at the minimum. But the possibility of legal charges still loomed if her mother pressed the case with the local authorities. For now, she would just have to work harder. And send Hailey lots of photos of the thriving, nicely weeded garden, assuming she could keep the deer away from it. But first, she was going to devour a massive lunch of whatever produce could be washed and prepped as fast as possible before her next encounter with her boss’s too sexy son.
*
