Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer

some people over for dinner tomorrow night. She’d like to know if you’d be available to join them.”

      “Tomorrow.” He studied her with those intense eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “For dinner?”

      “Yes. For dinner. It’s not a big deal, just them and another couple, I think. Piper and Jason Franklin. I don’t know if you’ve met them.”

      “No, I haven’t. But I’ve heard about him—he’s the mayor, right?”

      She nodded.

      “Sounds interesting.” He nodded. “Sure. I’d be happy to accept. I can drive us both there.”

      Rowena swallowed her refusal, pulled her hand from the phone and told Ashley, “Connor says he’d like to come. What time?”

      She got all the particulars, agreed she wouldn’t be late and finally hung up. Connor was frowning. “Is something wrong?”

      “No. Just sorting things out.” He gazed at her, his forehead pleated in a tiny frown. “You said Masters. Any relation to the florist where your employees are staying?”

      “Mrs. Masters is Ashley’s mother-in-law,” she told him, surprised by the funny smile that suddenly appeared. It made him look far less forbidding. “What?”

      “Just thinking about the connections. They say everybody knows everyone else and their history when you live in a small town. I guess it’s true.”

      The odd glint twinkling in his eyes made her nervous. Rowena struggled to maintain her equanimity. “Yes, well, I’d better get on home. I’ve got some stuff to do tonight.”

      “You have something going almost every minute of the day, it seems,” he mused quietly, an edge to his tone. “Reminds me of someone.”

      She lifted her freshly washed jacket from the second dryer in Wingate’s big laundry room, glad she wouldn’t have to go to the town Laundromat tonight.

      “Who could I possibly remind you of?” she asked, only half paying attention.

      “Me.”

      That brought her head up. Rowena couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

      “Definitely bad.” His eyes sparked a warning she didn’t understand.

      Rowena straightened, struggling to understand what he wasn’t saying.

      “Aren’t you the guy Wall Street applauded for never sleeping?” she asked. “A new deal every day?”

      Surprise flickered across his face for an instant before he grinned. “The small-town rumor mill?”

      She shook her head, chuckling. “Nothing so juicy. The Internet.”

      “Ah.” He nodded. The serious look returned. “Work addicts don’t make for pleasant people, Rowena. Believe me, I know that better than most.”

      She didn’t know how to respond. “If you’ve got a bag I’ll put my coat in it, take yours home with me and wash it. I’ll bring it back later, I promise.”

      “It wouldn’t be much of a loss if you didn’t,” he mumbled but he handed her a plastic bag from a drawer. Rowena stuffed her coat into it, walked to the door. Her filthy boots sat outside, still covered in muck inside and out.

      “Can I borrow those rubber boots of Dad’s back?” she asked.

      “I’ll go you one better. These look like a better fit.” He handed her a pair that had to belong to one of his uncles. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty tomorrow evening, shall I?”

      “I can drive,” she told him, refusing to look at his face.

      “Yes, but why should you when I’m already driving?”

      “Okay. Thanks.”

      He waited while she pulled on the jacket he’d lent her, gathered up the bag and pulled open the door.

      “I won’t be around much tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Apparently I have to inspect the animals who are to be featured on Wingate’s menu.”

      “Oh.” She turned up her nose.

      “Exactly my opinion. But it seems the farmer wants to prove I’m getting a very good quality of beef.”

      “Have fun.” She giggled, then pulled open the door.

      “Rowena?”

      “Yes?” She paused; when he didn’t speak she looked at him. All gaiety had leached from his face.

      “Stay away from the terraces,” he ordered so softly it could have been a whisper.

      “I will.” Something in his eyes compelled her to add, “Thanks for saving my life.”

      Before Connor could respond, she scooted down the stairs and hurried over to her truck, squishing her way through the mud.

      In spite of herself, she found herself looking forward to tomorrow evening.