He watched her a few seconds—unable, she hoped, to read anything in her expression besides disinterest. Why was he staring at her as if she’d grown another ear?
“Then I guess I’ll billet right here until I get further instructions.” He dropped his backpack—when had he picked that up?—on her porch and sat down on the first step with the toller still in his arms.
Further instructions? What was he talking about? Yardley opened her mouth to ask but then shut it. What he did or didn’t do was up to him. Not her problem.
She turned and climbed the stairs.
The front door opened before she reached it. Georgie stuck her head out. “I thought I heard voices.” Her gaze moved from Yardley to Kye, her sea-green eyes widening. Unconsciously, she reached up to brush a handful of bed-head red curls back from her face. “Oh, you have company.”
“He’s not staying.” Yardley stepped closer to the door, cutting off her friend’s view of Kye, and gave her a squinty stare that said Back off.
Unfortunately, her friend ignored her.
“Um, Yard, I’m dying for coffee.” Georgie gave Kye the once-over, her bright gaze lingering maybe a fraction too long for simple curiosity. “You look like you could use a cup, too.”
He popped up from the step, giving Georgie his best laid-back surfer-dude smile. “I’ve give my left nut for a cup.”
Yardley moved to square off against him as he came forward. It felt strange to be dwarfed by any man. He was bigger in every way. “I don’t allow strangers in my house.”
“Then let’s not be strangers.” Kye turned to Georgie and held out his hand. “Kye McGarren. Co-owner of Bolt Action Rescue K-9 Service out of Honolulu, Hawaii.”
“Oh.” Georgie’s expression went blank for a second as she glanced at Yardley.
That’s when Yardley realized she’d thought Kye was David Gunnar. Before she could make it clear that Kye wasn’t welcome, Georgie’s green eyes lit up with mischief. “I’m Georgiana Flynn. And you’re our First Footer.”
Yardley stared at her friend. “What are you talking about?”
“Hogmanay,” Kye and Georgie answered together then grinned at each other.
Georgie spoke first. “Scottish tradition says that the first person to cross the threshold on New Year’s Day determines the homeowner’s luck for the year. The best First Footer to have is a tall, dark-haired man.”
Yardley scowled. “You’re Irish.”
“McGarren sounds Scots.” She grabbed Kye’s arm and pushed him toward the door. “Welcome, First Footer.”
As he passed Yardley, Kye paused and offered her a smile so wide she felt the warmth of it curl in her stomach. Then he reached up and flicked her headband. “Nice bow. It’s so you.”
“That’s what I thought.” Georgie winked at Yardley, letting her know it was a gag.
Lips firmly pressed together, Yardley watched her traitorous friend follow Kye in. Only when they were inside did she reach up and snatch the bow off her head and stuff it in her pocket. She could take a joke. She so could. But what had she done to the universe that it required that Kye McGarren return to her life?
CHAPTER FOUR
Yardley stood uneasily just inside her front door, feeling as if she were the unwelcome stranger. Georgie had moved into the center of the room, her hand still on McGarren’s arm, chatting like they were old friends. She’d never seen her friend so animated with a man. Not even with Brad. With Brad she smoldered, a quiet but intense burn. A very private fire for very private emotions. Right now, Georgie was practically giddy. Maybe she was still high from last night’s champagne.
“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Yardley gave Georgie a meaningful look as she made a wide arch past McGarren, being careful to keep Oleg a respectful distance from the toller he now had on a leash.
“I’m packed. I’ve got an hour. How about some coffee, Yard?”
“After I feed Oleg.” She disappeared into the kitchen, needing a moment to compose herself before her anger got the better of her. She set up the doggy gate to keep Oleg in the kitchen. It was strictly a reminder. He could jump it with ease.
Yardley’s zipper made an angry zzzzt sound as she yanked her jacket open. McGarren had no business being here. And Georgie was no friend to do this to her.
When she had wrestled off her jacket, she closed her eyes, reaching for that inner peace she chased twice a week at a yoga class. But after only a few seconds she realized she was straining to hear every word coming from the other room.
As she reached for the bag of dog food she heard Georgie say, “And who is this pretty pup?”
“Her name’s Lily. You two have the ginger coloring in common. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
“Oh no. I’ve been compared to worse things.”