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10
Sterling rolledout of bed feeling refreshed. He showered, but didn’t shave, instead rubbing a palm over one cheek so his stubble rasped against the skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been anything other than clean-shaven and he itched to go back to the bathroom and fix himself, but he had something to prove. In order for Kat to make concessions, he’d need to make some, too. That said, one concession didn’t mean he was completely caving to her demands. He paired a collared shirt with designer jeans for a tidy-casual look.
Ready to face the day, he wandered down the hall to collect a breakfast muffin, then headed for the garden, but encountered Kat along the way.
“Is that a suit?” she asked, nose crinkling.
“Jeans,” he explained, pinching the fabric to demonstrate how stiff it was.
Her hands went to her hips. “Are they tailored?” She said the word like it was dirty.
“No, they just fit well.”
“I’ll say.” She cocked her head and looked him in the eye. “You didn’t shave.”
He hoped she appreciated it. “Feels unnatural.”
“Funny, because it suits you.”
His heart stuttered, and he told it to behave. There was no need to get excited because a striking woman complimented him. “It’s scruffy. Unprofessional.”
“I disagree. If I saw you with that facial hair across a boardroom table, you wouldn’t look any less professional to me. But you do look edgier.” She grinned. “Sexier.”
Below his belt, something stirred. While his brain knew that he needed to focus on business, his body had missed the memo. Seeing Kat’s luscious plum-colored lips form that word, and knowing she found him attractive, was almost too much. Hell, if she liked the way he looked with a little stubble, maybe he’d let his scruff grow wild and free for as long as he was here. There was no office dress code to adhere to. No underlings to maintain appearances for. And who knew? Maybe once it stopped itching, he’d like it.
“Are you going outside?” she asked, because he’d been staring at her mutely for the better part of a minute.
“Yes.”
“Well, enjoy yourself.” She touched his shoulder as she scooted past. “It’s a beautiful morning.”
It was. The sun had risen over the hills and golden light bathed the garden. He breathed in the perfume emanating from dozens of flowers, and studied the array of vegetation—a veritable rainbow. Pausing by a pink rose, he bent to sniff a bloom.
“Lovely, aren’t they?”
His eyes cut to Brooke, who sat cross-legged on the grass opposite him, wearing gardening gloves that came halfway to her elbows. She was pulling out weeds with cheerful vigor.
“Yes.” He nodded to the chrysanthemums and the pansies. “It’s an eclectic garden.”
“That’s because it wasn’t planted by one person.”
“Not Kat?”
Brooke laughed, and peeled off a glove to wipe the corner of her eye, which was red-rimmed and watery. “Definitely not. Kat isn’t much of a gardener. She planted a few shrubs, because that’s all she could keep alive. I planted some.” She pointed to the pansies and marigolds. “Tione planted the ones nearer his cabin, and the Bridge Club planted the rest.”
“The Bridge Club?” It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of this club.
“Betty runs it. I think there are ten members. They live at The Refuge, which is the local retirement community. It’s mostly wealthy, single, older folk. They’re good sorts, but they like to meddle.”
He wondered if the Bridge Club had been the collection of women who’d chased him away from the bay when he’d first come. “I’ve met Betty.”
“You know what I mean, then.” Brooke resumed yanking weeds, carefully shaking off the loose dirt and setting them aside on a growing mound beside her. “She’s a force to be reckoned with. Best I can understand, she and the ladies decided to make a project out of Kat when she moved here. They weren’t sure what to think of her for a while, but now they’re her staunchest supporters. They turn up every Saturday to help out and sometimes a few of them will drop by during the week.”
“How neighborly of them.”
A strange expression came over Brooke’s face, as if she was frozen. She rocked back and forth once, twice, then sneezed an almighty sneeze, cupping the gloves around her face so she didn’t spray him.
“Ugh, gross,” she muttered. “Sorry about that.”
