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“Stay in the house,” I yell to her. “Lock the door. Call Sherriff Abrams. Tell him there’s an intruder.” I circle the tree, still trying to get a clear view of the man. “Did you hear that? The sheriff is on his way.”
“I heard you, and that’s really not necessary,” the trespasser says.
My mouth falls open, and you could knock me over with a feather right now, because the voice isfemale.I wasnotexpecting that.
“Why are you in my tree?” I demand.
“To get away from the vicious dogs, obviously.”
I glance at my dogs, my eyebrows popping up in surprise. “Thesedogs?”
“You should keep them locked up. They’re very mean.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “They’recorgis.”
“Just take the dogs inside, and I’ll happily leave. We can forget this ever happened.”
The fear-fueled burst of adrenaline in my system starts to fade, replaced with amusement. I know better than to underestimate women—anyone who knows my sister, Macbeth, could never make that mistake—butthiswoman? She’s afraid of corgis. How tough could she be?
“I don’t think so. Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I told you already,” she says slowly, making it clear what she thinks of my IQ level, “thosemonsterschased me up the tree.”
“Monsters?” I scoff. “Corgis aren’t exactly the stuff of nightmares, tottering around on their stumpy, little legs.”
“Ever heard of the T-Rex? It had tiny arms, too.”
“Good point,” I say, feeling the corners of my lips twitch into an involuntary smile. “So, for the sake of argument, let’s say the dogs did chase you up the tree—”
“They did!”
Ignoring her, I continue, “—why are you on my property in the first place?”
“I came to visit an old friend,” she mutters. “I realize now that it was a mistake.”
“Wrong address?”
“Not exactly.”
I frown. “I built this house myself. So, unless you’re here to visit me…”
Again, the woman doesn’t answer.Wait…is she here to see me?
I step closer to the tree, shielding my eyes with my hands, trying to see her better. “Who are you?”
She raises her chin, her face clearly visible for the first time. Round cheeks, soft lips, and eyes the exact same shade of blue as Lake Mercury on a sunny summer’s day. I can’t actually see her eyes, since her face is cast in shadow, but there are some things a man never forgets.
Carly Ormsbee’s face is etched into my long-term memory as permanently as a name scrawled in wet cement.
I gasp, my breath causing a small circle of fog in the chilly air. “It’s you.”
“It’s me,” she says. “Now, can you please call off the hounds so I can get out of this tree?”
Memories of Carly come flooding back. Hours of kissing beneath the old willow tree at my dad’s house. The first time she let me touch her boobs. The day she took my virginity—and gave me hers.
And oh, right. She’s afraid of dogs.I command my boys to sit, and they obey.
Carly eyes them warily. “Shouldn’t you tie them up?”
