That beat the hell out of the alternative, though. He would far rather dream about her than those vivid nightmares about his undercover work or about the accident.
As he waited, he did a quick inventory of her lawn in the glow from the porch light.
“Looks like you’ve lost a few branches from the wind earlier,” he said after he’d let the dog back inside, dried him off a little with a towel hanging by the door and then returned to Claire’s family room.
“Oh, drat,” she muttered.
Who said drat these days? he wondered, charmed all over again by her.
That silly word was a firm reminder to him, as if he needed one. Anyone who said drat instead of the blue curses he would have uttered was far too sweet for someone like him. He had too many black marks against his soul to deserve a woman like Claire Tatum Bradford.
“I guess that’s what happens when I live in a house surrounded by hundred-year-old trees. Do you think they’re too big for Macy and Owen to clean up when they get back from Denver with Jeff and Holly Sunday night?”
“I couldn’t see all that clearly in the dark, but from what I could tell, I think you’re going to need a chain saw for a couple of those limbs.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure I can find someone to help me.”
He hesitated for just a moment, obligation fighting against his better judgment. He had to make the offer, even though some part of him knew spending more time with Claire wasn’t a good idea. But he was in Hope’s Crossing now and that’s what people did in a small town. They helped each other when they could. Beyond that, he owed her. If not for him, she could be taking care of her own branches.
“It’s been a few years, but I’m sure I can remember how to fire up the Stihl.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “You’re far too busy, Riley. You don’t have time to be cleaning up my yard. I’ve got a man I hire to help with the heavy repairs and yard work around here, Andy Harris. If he can’t do it, Jeff could probably take care of it after he brings the children home.”
He tried to picture the entirely too smooth doctor dirtying his hands with his ex-wife’s yard work with his young, lovely wife at his side. The image wouldn’t quite come together.
“I’ll round up a chain saw and come over later in the morning. Would eleven work?”
“Riley...”
He didn’t want to argue anymore, not when it was taking all his concentration to keep his hands off her. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said shortly. “Do you need anything else before I leave?”
“No. I... Thank you.”
“What are friends for?” he murmured, then let himself out of her warm, pretty house while he still could find the strength to leave.
Eight
She should not be doing this.
As the hungry growl of the chain saw cut through the afternoon, Claire sat in her blasted rolling chair, Chester at her feet, sneaking another peek through the filmy curtains at her bay window, like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Only instead of spying on her neighbor burying a body in the garden, she couldn’t seem to stop watching the very attractive male currently wielding that chain saw on her downed tree limbs.
Something was seriously wrong with her.
Riley had made short work of the storm debris over the last hour. When he finished, he had poked his head in the door to inform her—not to ask, apparently, because he didn’t seem to care when she objected—that he was going to trim a few of the lower hanging limbs and any others that had been weakened by the harsh winters and heavy snows in Hope’s Crossing.
She had tried to insist she could hire a tree service, but he had only smiled and headed back out to work.
She shouldn’t be gawking at him, noticing the way his T-shirt clung to his chest and the muscles that rippled in his back as he stacked and loaded the larger chunks of branches onto her woodpile.
This was Riley. Alex’s pest of a brother, the one who used to jump around corners to scare them at every opportunity, who used to cover the spray nozzle handle on the sink so anyone who turned the faucet on would be drenched, whose favorite summer activity had been lurking in wait for them to sunbathe in the backyard so he could sneak out and soak them with the garden hose.
He was definitely all grown up, six feet and change of hard muscles.
You were the subject of many a heated fantasy... I had a crush on you from the time I was old enough to figure out girls didn’t really have cooties.
She still didn’t buy it. He had to have been yanking her chain. Still, his words had chased themselves around and around in her head since that strange conversation in the early hours of the morning.
She sighed and Chester raised his head, his eyes curious. “Sorry. Go back to sleep. Just reminding myself what an idiot I am.”
He barked once as if in agreement, then rested his head on his paws again as Claire suddenly became aware the throb of the chain saw had stilled.