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“Really?” Pete asked. “That’s a great feature. How long can you keep that going?”
“I’ve got a ten-thousand-gallon firefighting cistern buried in the hillside above the house, with a dedicated well. So, for a long time. But the well is pretty low yield, so there are moisture sensors in the grass. When it’s saturated, those turn off.”
“Did you know that won’t necessarily put out a fire?” Tom asked.
“It won’t?”
Pete shook his head. “Not if the fuels are dry. I’ve seen a wildfire burn across a swamp with standing water. It’s important to keep the grass short, just for that reason. We can bring some cows or horses up every now and then to mow yours down.”
“Sure. You can use my pasture as part of your natural beef raising. I haven’t used any chemicals.” She aimed a sly smile at Pete. Tom burst out laughing, and Pete scowled.
Pete raised his brows. “I can see Tom’s got you convinced. I’ll probably lose this 2-v-1 argument, but I’m going to make you work for it. And to make that harder, I’m going home. Tom, feel free to stay if Wiz will let you. But you get to walk.” Pete rose and walked to the front door.
“I think I can manage a short stroll down the hill, old man,” Tom called, then chuckled.
“Not if you’re wearing those city boots again, boy!” Pete yelled, the front door closing behind him.
They both laughed. Wiz finally got herself under control, then met Tom’s gaze and laughed again. It felt so good to be happy and express it without worrying someone might see and use it against her. The reminder made her shiver, so she stood and gathered the plates. Tom gathered the glasses, and they brought them to the kitchen. He stayed at least an arm’s length away, probably so he didn’t loom over her, just as she had requested. Maybe it was time to tell him she felt safe enough that he didn’t have to be quite so careful. He was okay. More than okay.
She wrapped the leftover lasagna, and her phone chimed. She looked at the notification and scowled.
“What is it?” Tom put glasses in the dishwasher.
“My stupid ex won’t stop emailing me. I keep deleting his emails and blocking him, but he won’t get the clue.”
“What does he want?” Plates clinked.
“I don’t know and don’t care. Probably money.” The refrigerator blew cold air on her, and she put the lasagna inside.
Tom chuckled. “Why don’t you open this one? Let’s look.”
She didn’t know why Tom wanted to see it, but she shrugged and opened it. She didn’t have anything to hide regarding Jeff. “Let’s see, oh baby I miss you, blah, blah, blah, want you back, blah, made a mistake, blah...” She shuddered and put the phone down. “Yuck. I can’t read anymore.”
Tom grinned. “Ah, but you don’t have to. Let’s give him something to think about, shall we?”
She gazed up at him, a little warily. “What did you have in mind?”
His grin turned into a smirk. “We’ll send him selfie. I’ll move behind you, just to the side a bit. You smile, nice and pretty, a little up toward me, and I’ll scowl, straight into the camera. Then you can send it off with a nice, short message, like ‘too little, too late’ or ‘go away, little boy.’ Don’t you think that would work?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, that’s evil.” She grinned up at him. “Perfect. Let’s do that.”
His brows rose. “You’ll be okay with me behind you?”
She nodded. “Yeah. You’re not surprising me, so it should be fine.”
“Good.” He stepped toward her, looking beyond her, then turning. “Oh, wait. Let’s do this in front of your Christmas tree.”
“Great idea. Yes, let’s.” She grabbed his hand, ignoring his jump, and towed him to the tree. “Yep, right here.” She twirled on her toe. Tom stepped behind her, sliding one hand down her arm to her waist and putting his other on her shoulder, touching her gently, not grabbing. Still, she shivered a little as she put the camera in selfie mode.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Tom’s voice rumbled along her back, creating another shiver. But it was a good, anticipatory shiver, not a shudder. “Yes, it’s okay. I’m all right. Ready?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Say cheese!” She aimed the camera, turning to look up at him, and clicked the shutter. She brought the phone closer. She’d managed to cut Tom’s head off. “I’m not sure we can get both of us in a selfie. You’re too tall, and I’m too short.”
“Here, my arms are longer, let me try.” He took her phone and aimed it, then clicked. He’d gotten both of them.
