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When Slade called it a day nine hours later, enough daylight still remained to drive home without his headlights. After Reed took off, he checked with the two hands assigned night patrol before heading home himself, pleased they were left with only a small herd to drive close enough to get hay out to them this winter. Turning into his drive, he reached above him to click the garage door opener. He’d debated whether to build the house with the back windows facing the open range or the narrow woods that separated their property from the old Studman place. After spending a good portion of his military days hiding in trees or propped on foliage-covered hillsides, the unobstructed view appealed to him more than the year-round forest greenery.
Slade caught the faint whispering flow of the full creek that ran through the woods, followed by the clearer sharp bark of a nearby dog, as he slid out of the truck. Likely a stray, he thought, shutting the door, then changed his mind when a female voice followed by a whistle filtered through the trees.
“Sam, come!”
The dog must have obeyed because he could barely detect a soft, crooning tone before the more distinct tap of a hammer hitting a nail reached him. Last he heard, the ten acres that lay between the Kincaid ranch and Baily’s spread had sold at auction, but that was a few months ago. Curious, and with nothing better to do right now, he put Chace in the house then strode to the path he and his brothers took when running wild in this area. The trail led to the short wooden bridge they’d built themselves to cross the creek when it was too cold to splash in. The wooded area between his place and his neighbor was only about a block wide, and it took him less than ten minutes before he emerged from the trees.
Slade paused to watch the young woman pounding nails into a loose fence board, wondering if anyone else was around. From the looks of it, the entire fence should be replaced instead of repaired, but that was her business. A happy mixed-breed dog ran around the field, chasing something only he could see, or maybe nothing at all. His shaggy black coat was the same color as his owner’s chin-length hair that she kept scooping out of her face as she bent over the rail. She was slender, the jeans and high-necked, long-sleeved black tee fitted but not restrictive. The sneakers wouldn’t last long if she planned to spend much time in these fields.
He strode forward to introduce himself and lend a hand since no one else had made an appearance. What he did notice was the work that needed to be done on the barn and house, signs the property had stood vacant for many months. She didn’t look up as he approached, not even when the dog barked and dashed to hide behind her.
“You’re trespassing, in case you didn’t notice,” she said, dropping a hand to give the dog a quick pet.
The soft voice and caring gesture didn’t match the unfriendly tone, and he found himself intrigued. “I’m Slade Kincaid, live right beyond the woods over there.” He jerked a thumb behind him.
She sighed and straightened, turning large, sky-blue eyes his way while scraping her hair back. The wispy bangs fell across her forehead again, her wide mouth tightening into a straight line, her face as arresting as her attitude.
“I didn’t ask, but I’m tired, so I’ll play nice. Nicole Wells, and I live here now.”
Amused, Slade decided to push her buttons, just for the heck of it. “I’ll help you finish up.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” she asked, her voice perplexed, as if she couldn’t believe her attitude didn’t turn him away.
“Because that’s what neighbors do.”
She let loose with a rude snort. “Not where I come from.”
He read the blue and white lettering on her shirt with the large dog paw print in between the lines.Dogs Make Me Happy – You Not So Much.She had a sense of humor to go with the prickly attitude. He liked that.
“You’re in our neighborhood now.” To get on her good side, if she had one, he squatted and held his hand out to Sam, who hadn’t budged from her legs.
Without taking his eyes off the cowering dog, Slade said, “I assume this is the Sam I heard you calling a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, and he doesn’t like intruders, either.” She whacked another nail with unnecessary force.
“I’m a visitor and friendly neighbor, a far cry from an intruder,” he returned. “You’ll need another dog if you want to deter intruders.”
Sam inched his head around her knee and stretched to sniff his hand. When his long tail thumped the ground, Nicole huffed and muttered, “Traitor.”
“Nah, just smart enough to realize I’m no threat.” He scratched under Sam’s chin then rose and tipped his hat. It was too dark now for her to do much more. “Nice to meet you, Nicole Wells.”
Slade barely made out her wry grin. “You too, Slade Kincaid.”
***
INTERESTING GUY.
Nice butt to go with what she could make out of his shadowed jawline, broad shoulders, and deep drawl, the lowered Stetson shielding his gaze, conjuring up all kinds of fantasies.
Nicole shook her head at the fanciful thought as she watched her neighbor walk into the woods. That’s what she got for keeping to herself so much this past year and staying holed up on her new property the last two weeks. The first cowboy she talked to sent her mind into the gutter.He was a diversion from my exhaustion,she thought, picking up the bag of nails and starting toward the house with Sam at her heels. “You were nicer than I was. What’s with that?” she asked him as she held the back door open. Sam trotted inside without answering.
Since setting foot inside her new home and checking out the property she’d purchased through an agent, Nicole had discovered the amount of work needed to get her shelter up and running. She’d kept enough of the money Tony left her to buy this place, turn it into a rescue, and cover the operating expenses. With luck, the contracts she’d signed before leaving Chicago to illustrate children’s books would pay her living expenses. Without a mortgage, she wouldn’t need much.
A mudroom separated the kitchen from the back door, and she braced a hand on the wall to toe off her shoes, remembering what the neighbor said about boots. She might prefer solitude to socializing for now, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take any advice she could get to make her transition from city life to country girl easier. Bending over, she removed her socks and tossed them into the washing machine on the opposite wall before padding barefoot to the refrigerator. Scanning her limited options for dinner, Nicole grudgingly admitted she couldn’t put off a shopping trip into town much longer. She really missed her mom’s home-cooked meals.
Avoiding attention in Chicago, especially from the media with Natalie’s prodding, had been impossible after Tony’s death and she’d moved in with her parents. They hounded her for interviews, even pestered the volunteers at the shelter once they got wind of her involvement. And after the will was read, Tony shocking everyone, including her, by leaving her everything except his shares in the family company, things got worse and it was easier to stay inside and concentrate on her career as an illustrator.
There were eggs, cheese, and onion enough for an omelet and as she prepared the simple meal, her thoughts drifted to her neighbor. She honestly didn’t mind the visit from Slade, but also didn’t want to encourage him to stop by whenever the urge struck, even if he was the first man to stir her dormant libido. Nicole had taken a chance on finding the peace and solitude she craved by moving away from the city where she’d spent her whole life. In the last fourteen days, she’d not only found both on this land but the perfect place to start a rescue shelter for dogs. The woods separating her from neighbors were a far cry from the close quarters of apartment living and the compact row of brownstones where her parents lived, both in one of Chicago’s poorer and not-so-safe neighborhoods.
