A big yellow dog met her halfway across the yard. His head was down and his tail wagging, which meant he wasn’t going to take a chunk out of her butt. But the sight of him did slow her down.
She held out a hand. “Hey, feller, what’s your name?”
The dog nosed her hand in a friendly gesture, so she rubbed his ears. “You got my granny in that house, or is she hiding in one of the barns this time?”
The first big raindrop hit her on the cheek and rolled down her neck. It was as cold as ice water, and more quickly followed before she made it to the porch. Shivers chased down her spine as the water hit her bra and kept moving to the waistband of her underpants.
She knocked on the door and waited.
“Walter, don’t open that door,” her granny called out loud and clear.
“Are you Walter?” she asked the dog, who’d followed her to the porch, just as the front door swung open.
“No, he’s Shooter. Are you Katy?”
Allie looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen rimmed by dark lashes. Her gaze traveled to his wide shoulders, the Henley shirt stretched over bulging abs, and the big belt buckle with a bull rider on it. She had to force herself to look back up, only to find him smiling, his arms now crossed over his chest.
Lord, have mercy! Crazy cowboys who bought a bad luck ranch were definitely not supposed to be that sexy.
She wanted to crawl under her work van because there she stood wearing cargo pants, a faded thermal-knit shirt frayed out at the wrists, black rubber boots, and the old coat she wore on the job site. She smelled like pine oil and ammonia and didn’t have even a smidgen of makeup on her face.
Granny shuffled across the floor. “Don’t be silly, Walter. This is Katy, my daughter. You’ve seen her lots of times at church for the past six months. Don’t you have enough sense to get in out of the rain, girl? Why haven’t you invited her inside, Walter? Where are your manners?”
“Granny, I am not Katy. I’m Allie, your granddaughter. You know better than to sneak out of the house like this. You scared all of us,” Allie fussed.
“Maybe we can sort this out inside where it’s warm and dry,” Blake offered. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Blake Dawson. C’mon in.” His eyes were so green that she would have sworn he was wearing colored contact lenses.
She put her hand in his. “I’m Allie Logan, your neighbor. I’m so sorry about this.”
Her hand tingled and the feeling lingered as she followed him into the house and through to the kitchen, tugging Granny after her. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that he was one sexy piece of baggage. Most likely it was the fact that she hadn’t had sex in so long that she might have to get out the how-to booklet to even remember what body part went where.
“I’m ready to go home now.” Irene’s head tilted to one side and she shoved her hands into the pockets of the chenille robe. “I came over here to welcome this young man to Dry Creek. You should have come with me.”
“You live nearby?” Blake asked.
“Yeah, the big house called Audrey’s Place. It’s just past your east field and over the fence.”
“Audrey’s Place? Is this Audrey? She told me her name was Irene.” Blake shoved his thumbs into his hip pockets.
Irene’s face went into that mode that reminded Allie of a dried apple doll; all wrinkles with deep-set eyes and a puckered-up mouth, hollowed cheeks and a sharp little chin. She poked Blake in the chest with a bony finger and raised her voice as high as it would go. “Hell, no! Audrey was a whore. I’m a fine, upstanding churchgoin’ woman. I’m not a hooker like my great-great grandma. I am Irene Miller, young man, and don’t you forget it.”
She held her hand up to catch a drop of water when it fell from the ceiling. “Don’t know why we’re wasting our time with makin’ casseroles to welcome him. He won’t be here more’n a year. The good-lookin’ ones never stay. Couple of ugly ones made it two years, but the cold winter will put this one on the run.”
“Granny!” Allie said as soon as she could get a word in edgewise.
Irene shrugged. “Better get a pan and put it under that leak, young man, or you’re going to be mopping all day. Now take me home, Allie.”
“Granny, you’re being rude.”
Blake chuckled. “She does manage to keep things lively.”
“You have no idea.” Allie glanced at the drip coming from the ceiling. “It’s been leaking a while from the size of that brown ring. You’re lucky someone put down linoleum flooring because it could ruin carpet or hardwood.”
Blake nodded. “Damn. I hoped that the water marks on the ceiling were from a long time ago and the leak had been fixed. I’ll just have to add it to the list of the million other repairs.”
“Allie’s great at repairs,” Irene piped in. “We have a construction business, and we’re damn good at what we do.”
“Really?” Blake’s eyes lit up. “Could I hire you to put on a new roof?”