Parker turned toward the sound of
the male voice and brushed aside hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. The sun glared in her eyes, making it difficult to get a clear picture of the man standing on the other side of her gate.
“Hello,” she greeted him.
“Do you live here?”
Probably a neighbor, she thought
to herself. They’d shown up constantly after the fire to see how close the flames had actually come to their homes. Many of them invited themselves in without knocking. That was until she paid to have someone come in and fix the broken gate and stop the trespassers.
“I would hope so,” she said, waving
the pruner in her hands. “I don’t think I would take this job for actual money.” The closer she got to the gate, the better the features of the man came into focus. He stood at least three inches taller than her, no easy task when she was five nine. Broad
shoulders and arms that didn’t look like they slaved in an office all day. He wore jeans. It had to be over a hundred degrees, and the man wore jeans.
And filled them out nicely, if she
wasn’t too tired to notice.
Parker forced her gaze back to his
face, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses; his thick brown hair wasn’t covered by a hat.
She stopped in front of him, the
gate to the property a clear division. The intense set of his jaw softened slightly. “Is your, ah … husband here?”
Three years ago, in a bar … or while
out with friends, she would have instantly denied a lack of a husband. Out here, with a stranger … even an attractive one standing at her front door, she wasn’t about to correct him. “Who’s asking?”
The man’s smile fell and he quickly
removed his sunglasses. “I’m sorry. My name is Colin Hudson. Colin to my friends.”
“What can I do for you,
Mr. Hudson?” She wasn’t about to call him by his first name.
“I work with the Public Works Department
and wanted to see if you’d let me take a quick look at the wash that runs through your property.” He reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. Out came a business card that he handed her through the bars of the iron gate.
She had to move close enough to take
the card, but retreated once she had it in her fingertips.
He instantly shoved his hands in
his front pockets and took a step back.
The card looked legit. Parker reminded
herself that anyone with a computer could make a business card. “Does your department work on Saturdays, Mr. Hudson?”
“All the time.”
She peered beyond the gate, didn’t
see a car. “Did you walk here?”
Mr. Hudson looked over his shoulder,
pointed his thumb down the street. “I have a company truck. I parked around the corner.”
“Ah-huh.” She wanted to believe him.
His caramel brown eyes looked kind enough. “Even Ted Bundy was good-looking,” she said loud enough for him to hear.
Parker looked up to find him staring,
his mouth gaped open. “That’s a first.”
“Sorry.”
Not sorry.
“By-product of being a lone woman on a large piece of property with a stranger asking to come in. Business card aside, you could be anyone.”
He lifted his hands in the air. “Very
wise. I hope my sister would do the same. I was just hoping to get an eye on the canyon before Monday’s meeting. But I can wait.”
She relaxed her grip on the tree
pruner. “What meeting?”
“The city and county are meeting
to discuss the concerns of the watershed after the fire. We’re developing a plan to preserve property during the winter. If I could take a quick look it would help.”
“You mean prevent mudslides?”
“Control
mudslides,” he corrected her.
She shifted from foot to foot. “You
can do that?”
“It’s a big part of our job.” He
smiled, looked over her shoulder. “I can wait. I don’t want to make you uneasy.”
Parker looked back toward the house.
“Tell you what. You go get your company truck and I’ll grab a snake fork and show you the wash.”
His eyes narrowed with an unasked
question.
“It’s summer. Rattlesnakes are a
thing,” she explained.
“You sure?”
Yeah, she was sure. “I’ll open the
gate. You can park inside.”
