The Sweetest Gift

“Probably. The good news is that I won’t be living alone for much longer. My rock-band buddies will be moving in shortly.” One dark brow quirked. “Is that what you mean by neighbor disasters?”

She saw the next six months of peaceful nights’ sleeping vanish before her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Catastrophe. There was no other word for it. And this was Mrs. Gardner’s relative. There was no way she’d evict her own nephew.

“I throw wild parties at least three times a week. That’s why I got booted out from my last five apartments.” He winked at her. “Did that answer your question?”

He was teasing her. Great. She’d been praying for a nice responsible Christian man for a neighbor and what did she get? A comedian. He’d been teasing her all along.

She didn’t want to like him. The only reason a handsome man like him paid any attention to a girl like her was that they wanted something. Wasn’t that the way it was? She was ordinary looking, nothing special, and that was okay, because it just showed this man was not her Mr. Right.

Her true love would see past her plainness and see her. And he’d love her, shortcomings and failures and strengths. That’s the way love should be.

She unlocked her second lock as her little dog barked through the wooden door. “Oh, about the hose. Please don’t forget to coil it up when you’re through.”

“I’ll leave it the way I found it. Don’t worry. I might be loud and inconsiderate when I’m playing my drums all night, but I’m careful with garden hoses.”

Why was she laughing? She shouldn’t be encouraging him. She snatched her mail from the slim black box next to the front door. She wasn’t even going to look at the bills that had come. She had bigger problems. Her new neighbor. So he wasn’t what she’d prayed for. He wasn’t going to be a problem, right?

Maybe she wasn’t seeing the whole picture. Maybe he’d taken off his wedding ring when he worked so he wouldn’t catch it on a pipe or something. That meant there was a chance he could be married and responsible.

He didn’t look responsible, but still, a girl had to have hope. “Will your wife be joining you?”

“No, no wife. No woman can put up with all the groupies from my band.”

“I can’t believe Mrs. Gardner is letting a man like you stay in her house.”

“There’s this nondiscrimination law. She had to let me in or I threatened to sue.” Dimples cut into his cheeks as he tunneled his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, standing strong and at ease, like a man always in charge. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good neighbor. I won’t throw parties and don’t play loud music. I’m usually working.”

“Working.” She should have guessed it by the hard, lean look of him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those workaholic types.”

“Yes, but it’s not my fault. It’s genetic. I tried a support group for a while, but it cut into my work time.”

“I suppose it’s a competitive, stressful calling, being a plumber. Nighttime leaking pipes, early-morning bathtub backups and emergency pipe unclogging.”

“Are you mocking me?” That seemed to make those troublesome glints in his eyes shine more brightly. “Sure, go ahead and make me angry. I may have to go let off steam. Did I mention I play drums? Yep. I plan to set up in the garage. Will that bother you at night?”

He flashed her a grin before padding soundlessly away. He moved like a well-trained athlete, like a man comfortable with his power. Not married, huh?

She was a woman. She couldn’t help noticing the wide, capable cut of his shoulders beneath the plain gray T-shirt. Or his long legs encased in denim as he disappeared around the corner of her house.

Not that she was interested. She wanted a nice Christian man. He looked like anything but.

“Best get the tea steeping, because I’m a fast worker,” he called from the side yard, out of sight.

The side gate of the fence squealed open and then snapped shut.

He might not be Mr. Right, but he was funny. Heroes in the movies weren’t this good-looking.

Her dog started barking an enthusiastic greeting through the door. Kirby banned all thoughts of Sam Gardner from her head and turned the old brass knob.

The instant she opened the door, the little spaniel leaped at her knees, panting happily. Kirby knelt to hug the wiggling creature. There was nothing like being welcomed home. And until she had a family of her own, she was blessed with this little animal that was always so glad to see her.

“C’mon, Jessie. Let’s get you outside.” Kirby’s problems felt far away as she set down her purse and followed her best friend through the house. The little blond dog, nothing but fluff, curls and long ears, dashed ahead, leading the way.

“Did you have a good day guarding the house?” Kirby talked to fill the silence that was broken only by the occasional creak of the wood floorboards and the tap of her heels. “I know, it’s a tough job, but you did well. Yes, you did.”

The dog panted happily, already at the back door, sitting politely and gazing at the doorknob.

There he was! Sam Gardner. Kirby froze at the sight of him, then took one step back away from the window. Staying out of his sight, she watched him through the sun-streaked glass. Looking like a rodeo hero, he slung the coiled green hose into the air like a lasso. It unfurled as it sailed over the top of the fence and into his backyard.

Sam Gardner met only one of her criteria. He was attractive. She watched his toned muscles ripple beneath his T-shirt as he adjusted the hose over the top of the board fence and stalked out of sight.

Too bad. She’d be willing to settle for him if he met even one more of her criteria.

A second later, she could hear the sound of water running. “What do you think, Jess?”

The dog didn’t bother to bark. She looked at the doorknob expectantly.

“Some watchdog you are. You’re too friendly. You didn’t even snarl when he was in the backyard.”

The dog gazed up at her happily, long silky ears flopping, pink tongue lolling.

“I know, you’re a fierce one.” Kirby patted the dog’s soft round head, laughing because she couldn’t imagine her sweet-hearted dog hurting anyone.

She couldn’t imagine Sam Gardner running from anyone or anything. He had that tough, dangerous look about him. The one that made a girl’s pulse skyrocket. Even an average and ordinary girl like her.

There he was again. She could see him on the other side of the fence, in his yard, tugging the hose in a competent, expert way that said he could handle anything. Shocks of dark hair tumbled over his brow as he worked, and the sunshine flitted over him like grace.

He’s probably not a Christian, not nice, not considerate and hardworking, she told herself, as if that were any consolation. Except that didn’t ring true.

The dog scratched at the door.

Had she drifted off again? Yep, she was always doing that. Kirby turned the knob and opened the door. Maybe she’d go out with the dog and make sure Sam had shut the side gate. He didn’t look like the responsible type—

A shadow leaped toward her. Big. Dark. Threatening. She fell back against the door, from calm to terrified in a millisecond. She tried to scream.

Couldn’t.

The shadow became an enormous dog hurtling toward her. Its powerful jaw opened to reveal enormous sharp teeth. He leaped through the open door and planted his huge muddy paws on her shoulders. Bright, happy brown eyes smiled at her. A wide, wet tongue swiped across her chin in a friendly hello.

“I guess you’re not too dangerous.” Kirby wiped her face with her sleeve. “Down.”

Pleased with himself, the dog dropped to all fours, glad to sniff noses with the little blond spaniel dancing around him in greeting.

That was one enormous dog. He was at least midthigh high, with a neat short black-and-brown coat. He paraded into her kitchen as if he owned it.

I bet I know who owns him. Kirby thought of that rugged, all-too-confident man next door. The one who mentioned the boards down in their mutual fence. A dog owner would be concerned about a damaged fence.

There was a resemblance between the man and his canine. The dog sauntered over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the biscuit box off the edge of it. As if he had great practice at doing this very same thing many times before, he upended the box onto the floor and little bone-shaped treats scattered everywhere.

Her little spaniel sat politely eating only one treat, but the bold dog attacked the pile of biscuits as if he’d been starved for days.

“Yep, you belong to Sam Gardner. No doubt about that.” Kirby knelt to retrieve what she could of the scattered biscuits. The dog only ate faster, sucking up as many treats as his mouth could hold. “You are a bad dog. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t seem the slightest bit repentant.

“It’s probably not your fault. Look at your owner. You can’t help it.” She put the box on top of the refrigerator, far out of reach. She patted her little dog and gave her another biscuit for being so polite.

“No more for you, buster.” Kirby told the intruder. “C’mon, we’re taking you back where you belong.”

The dog looked appalled as she snapped a bright pink leash to his chain collar, but he went with her willingly. He was a very good-natured dog. The spaniel followed them to the door, whining when it was clear she had to stay behind.

“Sorry, Jessie.” When Sam’s dog lunged off the front steps, dragging her with him, Kirby thought he must have been an obedience-school dropout.

“Just like your owner, aren’t you?” She coiled the leash when she caught up with him, holding him firmly. “You are good-looking. I bet all the girls tell you that.”

As if in complete agreement, the dog hauled her around the hedge, obviously too self-confident for his own good.

Just like his owner.

The phone was ringing loud and clear through the window he’d left open to air out the kitchen. Sam dumped the end of the garden hose and crashed through the old screen door. He caught the receiver on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”

“Oh, I was about ready to hang up.” Aunt Ruth’s chipper voice singsonged in his ear. “I thought maybe you gave me a number that wasn’t hooked up yet. But I should have known the go-getter you are would have your telephone in already.”

“It was tough work to dial the phone company. Nearly took all my energy. Now I’m too weak to fix the plumbing.”

A warm chuckle rang on the other end of the line. “Oh, you can always make me laugh, boy.”

“A man does what he can.” Warmth seeped into the center of his chest. He loved his aunt, who’d been a second mother to him and had written him faithfully every week when he’d been in the military. And during the tough times afterward.

“I suppose you’ve already got your tool belt on and working.”

“The tools are on the floor, but I am tinkering away.”

If he could call it tinkering. It was more like a major repair. He took one look at the trashed sink, broken faucet, the holes in the wall, the door ripped off the front of a filthy fridge. And that was just the beginning.

The question was, how much did he tell her? Aunt Ruth had become more frail after his uncle’s death. “The repairs are well under way.”

“There’s no grass growing under your feet, Sam Gardner. No, I can always count on you.” She sounded so proud of him. “I admire a hardworking man. You are something special.”

“Nope, just bored.” He blushed, because her affection embarrassed him. Because he didn’t feel special at all. He had a lot of hard lessons and proof to the contrary. “The truth is, I agreed to move here and help you out so I had something to do. Flying around the world was getting too dull. Been there, done that.”

“I learned long ago not to believe you, Samuel James Gardner. Beneath that crusty manner of yours is a soft heart gooier than melted chocolate. Which reminds me, thanks for running to the grocery store for me. I found the surprise you bought along with the groceries. You are a dear, precious boy.”

That settled it. The woman was just too darn gushy. Sam grabbed a Phillips screwdriver from one of his tool bags and opened a sagging cabinet door. What he’d do is fix that bent screw. “Found the bag of Snickers bars, did you? I was trying to bribe you. I want you to like me better than my other cousins.”

“No problem there, as long as you keep bringing me my favorite candy. You are my favorite, boy. Always have been and always will be.”

“You are my favorite, too.” That was about as affectionate as he could stand being. He loved his aunt, but love was tenuous. And he’d believed in love—his mother’s, his wife’s—and seen how easy it was for love to crumble away into hatred.

The bent screw gave and the broken cabinet door handle tumbled into his hand.

“Sounds like you’re hard at work.” Now the worry was there in Ruth’s voice. “The damage to the house isn’t too bad, is it?”

“Not too bad,” he said, because it was only the truth.

The damage wasn’t too bad at all. It was more than bad. It was appalling. The place was trashed. But it wouldn’t be by the time Ruth saw it. He’d fix everything damaged between the roof and the foundation first.

“Oh, I’m so relieved. The Realtor was simply exaggerating about the damages, then. I don’t know what I would do if I had to find the money to repair that house. It was fine enough to inherit a rental property, but it’s been nothing but trouble. Sam, you’re my saving grace in all this. I can’t tell you what it means to have you take care of this for me.”

“For you? You’re the one letting me buy this place. The real estate market around here is pretty tight.”

“Yes, but heaven knows the house has to be in good repair. And clean. I could hire my cleaning woman to come over. She’s quick as a whip and thorough, too.”

The place in Sam’s chest where a whole heart used to be felt constricted. His aunt was a good person, and there weren’t too many of those in this world. “Let’s hold off on a cleaning lady for a while, okay?” A long while. “I’d like to do a few more repairs and then paint the whole place.”

“Oh, of course. Maybe I’d best buy the paint. You go down to the hardware store and put it on my account.”

Although it was generous of Ruth, Sam figured that by the time he was done, he would have charged up an easy ten grand. “Why don’t you let me worry about that? I thought that was our agreement. I fix this up for sweat equity, right? I’ve got it under control.”

“Such a relief, such a dear boy. Say, have you met little Kirby McKaslin next door?”

The memory of his beautiful neighbor flashed through him like sunlight. She was as graceful, as soft and as perfect as the warm spring day. “Yep. I did happen to meet her. I had to go next door and borrow her hose.”

“She’s a cute girl, don’t you think? And as good as gold. Comes from a fine family—”

He knew where this was going. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I’m just telling you about your new neighbor. I want you to be friendly to her, since she’s a friend of the family.”

“Friendly? Is that all? I heard a scheme in your voice.”

“You heard no such thing.”

“Call it instinct, then.”

“Instinct? Why, that’s preposterous. I wouldn’t try to fix you up with a nice, pretty young woman—”

“Fix me up, huh?” At least he’d got her to admit it. Sharp, fire-hot pain scorched a sharp point through the center of him, all the way down to his soul. He knew she had no clue what she was doing to him. “I’ve asked you not to fix me up.”

Ruth’s sigh came across the line, not as a whisper of surrender but rather as a gathering of determination. “I know how you feel about women. You’re wrong, and you’re smart enough to figure that out one day. There are plenty of wonderful, kindhearted women in this world—good Christian girls—looking for a strong and decent man like you to love and cherish.”

His chest compressed. His lungs deflated. The pain left his eyes burning.

To love and cherish? No, he’d tried that once and he wouldn’t go there again. He refused to remember another nice Christian girl, the one he’d vowed before God to honor and love for the rest of his life. “Ruth, you’re killin’ me here.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”

“I have.” His throat seized up. If he didn’t stop his aunt from going down this path, he’d wind up one big, raw wound, open and bleeding. “I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop this. I can’t take it.”

“A big strong warrior like you?”

“I’m not a warrior anymore.” The sadness of that battered him, too.

“You’re a fine man, and I’m proud to call you my nephew.” Love shone in her words.

But it wasn’t strong enough to diminish his hopelessness. Or change his mind.

Ruth, protected and gentle hearted, didn’t know what he knew. He’d seen too much as a man, as a soldier, as a husband to believe there was any goodness at all in the world. Any goodness that lasted.

He reassured his aunt about the house so she wouldn’t worry, and ended the call before she could get another word in edgewise about Kirby McKaslin.

How did Ruth think that he’d just be able to trust anyone enough to love again? And why Kirby McKaslin? Her pretty face flickered back into his thoughts like a movie reel stuck on one vibrant, flawless frame, refusing to fade.

Why was he thinking about her? Picturing her in his mind as if he was interested? He wasn’t. A smart man would put all thoughts of her aside and keep his distance from her. Forever.

There was nothing else he could do. He had no heart left.

Since he was a smart man, he didn’t look out the window over the sink, which gave him a view of the side of her house. He blocked all images of her as he dropped the screwdriver into his tool belt and ambled out the door and into the welcome sunshine.

He’d finish replacing the valves in the basement, coil up the hose and return it.

Kirby McKaslin was nice enough. She was his neighbor. He’d have to see her time and again. The casual kind of run-ins that neighbors wound up having. He’d be nice to her, friendly, polite, neighborly.

But that was all.

With his game plan ready, Sam stretched the kinks out of his back. Where was his dog?

“Oh!” A woman’s gasp of surprise tore him out of his quick flash of panic.

What was Kirby McKaslin doing in his yard, glowing golden and dainty and heavenly, her hair rumpled and windblown? Then he looked down and realized she had a tight grip on a bright pink leash. The leash was attached to a powerful rottweiler. She bent to free the dog, and Leo bounded forward to run circles around Sam’s legs.

“Howdy, boy. What have you done now?” Sam knelt to stroke his hands down the dog’s broad back. It was the best choice, since that meant he didn’t have to look at Kirby.

It was his rotten luck that he couldn’t forget her entirely. Her feet were in his line of vision. Delicate feet to match the rest of her encased in trim leather loafers made of the softest-looking leather he’d ever seen. She was quality all the way—any man could see it.

Remember, be polite and neighborly. That was the plan. He refused to remember another delicate woman. See, with just that tiny thought, pain ripped through him, raw and jagged. A constant reminder of the biggest mistake of his life.

One he’d never make again.

Chapter Three

“Your dog must have found a space in the fence,” she said in that velvety-soft voice of hers. “It was no trouble figuring out who he belonged to.”

She was trying to make conversation. Whether she was just being polite or trying to start a relationship thing, Sam didn’t know. He couldn’t let himself care.

He stared hard at his dog. Leo glowed with happiness. He obviously liked Kirby. That was one check mark in her favor, that she was kind to animals, but he wasn’t going to let it change his resolve.

He stood slowly, careful of his stiff left leg. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good dog. A little energetic.”

“He’s got a lot of puppy in him still.” Sam kept his focus on his dog’s broad head. “Guess I’ll be right over to fix that fence. I’m sorry he jumped into your yard. C’mon, Leo, inside. Now.”

The dog followed him, happily tossing their pretty neighbor his most charming dog grin.

It was embarrassing, that’s what, a tough guard dog with his tongue lolling like that. That kind of affection would lead a guy to heartache. Didn’t the dog know that?

“Leo? That’s his name?”

That was Kirby’s voice, dulcet with amusement, calling him back, making his shoes pivot so that he turned toward her, as if he had no say in it. As if his feet were in charge.

“What’s wrong with the name Leo?”

“Nothing, exactly.”

Leo danced at the tinkling warmth of Kirby’s laughter. Sam had to admit he liked the sound of it, too. Soft, not grating. Gentle, not earsplitting.

“It wasn’t what I expected from a big dangerous-looking dog like that.” She held out one hand and Leo dashed straight for her, gazing adoringly at her while she scratched his chin. “Is he purebred?”

She was captivating. He couldn’t seem to figure out a way to answer. He was a big tough guy. He knew how to speak. What was wrong with him?

You’re in trouble, man. His game plan was going to be blown to bits if he didn’t thank her and exit stage left. All he had to do was haul Leo through that door, close it, and he’d be safe. Unattached. Distant.

But did he do that? No. Did he summon up his best drill-sergeant impressions and sound harsh and mean so that she’d never look at him again with those sparkling eyes full of hope? It’s what he should have done.

But did he? No. He wanted to hear her laugh again. Against every instinct he had, he advanced when he should have retreated. “So what would you have named him? Wait, I know. Something fancy. Like Prince or Duke, maybe.”

“Now you’re mocking me.” She thrust her gently rounded chin just high enough for the wind to sneak beneath the fall of her silken hair and ruffle it.

The wispy locks caressed the side of her face and made him wonder if her hair was as soft as it looked.

“No, I like people names for dogs,” she added. “They have feelings, too.”

“Let me guess. You’ve got one of those pampered little dogs. With carefully brushed hair tied up with a pink ribbon. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“A cocker spaniel, right?” He’d recognized the note and type of bark earlier, when she’d been unlocking her front door.

“How did you know?”

“I just do. I’m gifted.” Oh, that made her laugh. “What? You don’t think so?”

“Gifted isn’t the word I’d use. Irritating. Annoying. Arrogant.”

“Ouch. Calling me names already? That doesn’t bode well for our future together as next-door neighbors.” He liked the way a little wrinkle furrowed between her brows right at the bridge of her nose. “You’re mad because I’m right.”

“I’m not mad, and there’s nothing wrong with having a polite dog.”

“My dog doesn’t have to be well mannered. Not with his good looks. He’s naturally adored no matter what.”

Was Sam Gardner talking about himself, too? “Yes, but good looks can only take a guy so far.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” He braced his hands on his hips, a fighting stance, broadening his shoulders, drawing tight his chest muscles.

He looked as invincible as steel, but there was a tenderness in him, a kindness that shone in the chocolate warmth of his eyes, that gleamed like a promise in his deep rumbling voice. “My dog is good-looking and at the top of the food chain. Look at him. Big teeth. Bred for fighting. He’s a trained guard dog.”

“He’s a thief. He helped himself to most of the dog biscuits.”

“I can get you another box. Hold on.”

“I don’t want you to reimburse me with dog treats. I was just—” Okay, so Sam Gardner did meet another criterion. He could make her laugh.