Hometown Courtship. Diann Hunt

floor.

      They both fell on their knees and started gathering the runaway nails before someone tripped on them.

      “Over here,” she said, laughing.

      All around them, people crawled around the floor in search of the nails. In a rippling effect, one-by-one, people started laughing, until the entire crew was nearly hysterical.

      Brad quickly stood, blew out a ragged breath and put his silent cell phone to his ear. Clomping his way through the rough terrain, he moved away from the job site. He needed a minute to think, to try and figure out what had gotten into him.

      He kicked a clump of dirt out of the way. He was an idiot, and a clumsy one at that. Hammer stepped away, walked behind him and ended up on his other side.

      Brad had tried to avoid her. He wanted nothing to do with her, thanks to his brother. Yet when he noticed how hard she was working, sunlight glistening in her golden hair, cheeks flushed, tongue peeking out of the side of her determined mouth with every measured swing, well, he tried to look away, but he couldn’t.

      “Hey, are you all right?” The soft touch of Callie’s hand on his arm made him whip around as though she were an enemy to be reckoned with.

      “I’m fine.” He glared at Hammer for not letting him know someone was approaching.

      “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to apologize. I wasn’t, um, laughing at you. It was just a funny situation.”

      A sliver of vulnerability shone in her eyes, pulling him in. The slight sprinkle of freckles across her nose gave her a childlike quality, though he knew from experience she had no trouble standing up for herself. Not that that was bad. She was the perfect blend of independence and softness. He liked that in a woman.

      “Brad?” She stepped closer. “Are you all right?” She touched him again, sending electrical impulses shooting straight up his arm. Her eyes probed his, lingering, searching.

      Ammunition straight from his brother’s warehouse.

      Oh, she was good, no doubt about it. He took a step backward. “I’m fine.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. He took another step backward. “Really.” Dropping his cell phone, he bent over and picked it up, shaking his head at another display of clumsiness.

      “You’re not mad at me, then?” The question in her eyes, the lift of her mouth, the way her slender finger curled around a strand of hair…

      Taking another step backward, his foot fell into a hole, and he went down with a thud. Much to his embarrassment, a groan escaped him.

      “Oh, let me help you,” she said, reaching over to help him up.

      “No, no, don’t move me.” His voice sounded three octaves too high. He cleared his throat and said with a deep, manly voice, “I’ve hurt my ankle.”

      This woman was dangerous. He’d stay away from her or die trying.

      “I’ll get some help.” Before he could respond, she was off and running. And the weird thing was his dog, who never left his side, went with her.

      The traitor.

      By the looks of his ankle, running was something he wouldn’t be doing anytime soon.

      His brother was going to live to rue the day Callie Easton stepped into his courthouse.

      Chapter Four

      “Come on, Brad, it’s only a sprain. You’ll be on crutches for two, three days. What’s the big deal?” Ryan said.

      Rain pelted the windows of Brad’s house, interrupting Hammer’s slumber. The Lab scratched behind his ear, then sauntered into the kitchen, leaving Brad stranded in the living room.

      “The big deal? The big deal?” The words wrapped around his esophagus and threatened his air supply. Brad took a long, ragged breath and propped his leg on a pillow while reclining on the sofa. “The big deal is I am trying to build a house.”

      “A couple of days on crutches won’t kill you.” The phone wire crackled with the thunderstorm, matching Brad’s mood.

      A low, throbbing pain started at the back of his head and radiated forward. “Listen, I’ve got to go. My head aches and I need something to eat.”

      “You want Brianna to bring you over something?”

      You’ve done enough already, thank you. “No. I’ll just grab something.”

      “You need to learn to cook. There are times when you might not be able to get to the restaurant.”

      Just once he’d like Ryan to take off his big brother hat.

      “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You will never find me in the kitchen. I have an aversion to working in a kitchen. Call me a male chauvinist, but it’s not my thing.”

      “You might not want to mention that on first dates.” Ryan laughed.

      “Talk to you later.” Brad hung up the phone, feeling grumpier than ever. He reached for the pain pills the hospital had given him and took two. His stomach growled. Hammer’s paws clacked against the hardwood. With his plastic food bowl clutched between his teeth, Hammer stopped at the sofa in front of Brad. Then he dropped it.

      “This is your second fill-up today. I’ve yet to eat anything.”

      Hammer plunked down on his haunches, lifted sad eyes and commenced with a soulful whine.

      “You know, that little act could make you a Hollywood star.” Brad snatched the bowl and his crutches and stood up. “You owe me.” He was headed toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

      If his mood got any worse, he’d have to hole himself up in a padded cell, he thought, hobbling to the door. “If you’re not a Girl Scout selling cookies, go away.” The hinges creaked as the door swung open.

      There stood Callie Easton under a red-and-white polka-dotted umbrella big enough to cover a baseball team. It all but screamed to his nosy neighbors to sit up and take notice. She stood there smiling.

      Couldn’t she think of anything better to do?

      “Whoa, looks like I came in the nick of time,” she said, smiling brightly.

      Brad continued to stare at her. It irritated him to no end that someone could be that happy all the time. Okay, his mood was so bad he didn’t even want to be around himself.

      “Color me biased,” she said, pointing at the dog food bowl, “but I think you’ll prefer this.” She nodded toward her own dish.

      He forced a weak laugh. They stood there in awkward silence.

      “Um, it’s kind of wet out here. Mind if I come in?”

      Cold chills swept over him. The smell of danger was in the air. Or maybe it was the smell of fear.

      His.

      “Yeah, sure. Come on in.” Though he thought better of it, he stepped away from the door so she could slip inside.

      “I felt so bad about what happened at work. And I couldn’t help wondering if I caused it somehow. All those nails rolling everywhere, me laughing, the others joining in—”

      Yeah, thanks for bringing it all up again.

      “—so where’s your kitchen?”

      “This way.” He adjusted his crutches and walked ahead of her. “You didn’t need—”

      “Cooking is something I enjoy doing now and then, when I have the time.” She started to place the hot dish on the counter then turned to him. “You have a towel you can put here so the heat doesn’t hurt your counter?” She looked down. “Oh, hi, Hammer.”

      The dog trotted over to her as though they were the best of friends. No more treats for that Benedict Arnold.