A Forever Home. Lynn Patrick

“Okay. I guess I have to go talk to the guy. He doesn’t work for EPI, right?”

      Tyrone shook his head. “Nope.”

      Great. “Go on back to work while I take care of this.”

      The Terminator. He did kind of look like the movie character, wearing those mirrored sunglasses.

      Not wanting to confront a stranger her first hour on the job, Heather nevertheless trekked back up the incline. The landscape was now her responsibility, and she couldn’t sit by and see the lawn destroyed, not when there would be so much of it left when they were done planting.

      Moving in behind him, she cleared her throat, then called, “Excuse me!”

      The Terminator kept going—apparently he hadn’t heard her—and he was moving so fast, she nearly had to run to keep up with the riding mower.

      She raised her voice. “Excuse me! Sir!” When he didn’t answer, she jogged faster and grabbed his arm. “Hey!”

      He suddenly stopped and she ended up just about running smack into him. Stopping the machine instantly, he jumped off. The next thing Heather knew, she was on the ground, his hand on her throat, pinning her in place and knocking off her cap. It all happened so quickly, she had no way to defend herself. Frightened and angry, she lay beneath him, shaking inside, staring wide-eyed into his half-hidden face.

      “What are you doing?” she croaked. Her heart was thumping double time. “Let go! Please! I wasn’t attacking you, okay?”

      As if suddenly realizing he’d overreacted, he shook himself, stood and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” He held out a hand to her. “You just startled me.”

      Reluctantly, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. The breath seemed to whoosh out of her, and she could feel her pulse where his fingers wrapped around hers. “Sorry,” he said again. “Really.”

      As if burned, she pulled her hand free. “I—I, uh, just wanted to talk to you.”

      He reached over to shut off the lawnmower. “About?”

      “Well, that.” Her heartbeat steadying, she nodded at the fancy mower.

      “You want to do the mowing?”

      His lips curved slightly. Was that a smile? Hard to tell in a face that seemed to be made of granite. And one that was mostly hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. She wondered if he wore them for effect—if he wanted to seem mysterious or dangerous for some reason.

      Not caring to make matters worse, she said, “Uh, no, I don’t want to do the mowing. I just want to know why you’re doing it.”

      “I’m the handyman. Rick Slater. Mr. Phillips just hired me a few days ago.”

      He didn’t look like a handyman. Heather frowned at him. “And he told you to mow the lawn?”

      “Phillips didn’t give me orders to do anything specific. He just expects me to take care of the place in general. You have something against me cutting the grass?”

      Did she? Heather wondered. This wasn’t something she’d talked about with Mr. Phillips or EPI, so she merely said, “I’m in charge of renovating the landscaping. Heather Clarke.”

      His lips curved again. “You’re in charge? Then you must be that community college girl who’s doing an internship here.”

      He seemed amused by the idea of her being in charge of anything. How young did he think she was, anyway? She was a very mature twenty-four. Not that she felt inclined to tell him so.

      “I’m the woman who is doing the internship, yes.” Trying not to be irritated with him—she was fighting a losing battle—Heather said, “Mr. Phillips told me I could decide what we’re doing with all the plants and the lawn. Do you have experience with landscaping?”

      “What kind of experience is necessary to ride a lawnmower around? Feel free to give me advice. I’m new at this.”

      Then why had he been hired?

      “First, you need to adjust the lawnmower so it doesn’t cut lower than two inches, or you’ll destroy the grass,” Heather told him. “Then only go over it once. And if you’re just riding from one place to another, raise the blades entirely.” She flicked her gaze around the area until she saw the bush Amber had told her about. “Apparently you’ve also sent a few shrubs to the big garden in the sky...so don’t mow the bushes, okay?”

      He held up his hands, palms out. “Okay. You’re the boss. Your company does want the lawn mowed, right?”

      From his expression, she was certain he was silently amused at her expense.

      “Sure, mow any of the lawn that’s open—once.” Heat sizzled up her neck and her spine went stiff. “I need to get back to my team. We have a lot of work to get done today.”

      With that, she whipped around, leaning over to pick up her fallen cap. She placed it firmly back on her head, tucking stray strands around the edge. All the while, she felt his gaze bore into her as she walked away. It took willpower not to glance back and look at him one last time. Tension coiled in her until the lawnmower started up again. She relaxed a bit, then realized her team had stopped work to watch the encounter. They were both grinning. Well, great. No respect from The Terminator...she could take that. But the people she would count on to follow her directions were another matter. If she didn’t have their respect, it was going to be a long summer.

      She tried to play it cool as she joined them. Hoping they couldn’t sense her pulse racing or her stomach churning, she shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s the new handyman, but it seems he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

      “He looks pretty competent to me,” Tyrone said. “Like he’s been in the military. Or maybe he’s a spy. The way he flattened you on that ground in two seconds was amazing. Whoo-hoo!”

      “Well, she did ambush him,” said Amber, grinning. “He didn’t even see her coming.”

      Both Amber and Tyrone laughed as Heather clenched her jaw. “I was only trying to catch up with him.”

      “Well, you caught him all right.” Noting his boss’s somber expression, Tyrone raised his brows at his coworker.

      But Amber wasn’t paying attention. “A spy, hmm? Yeah, I dig that. A real hot one.”

      Rick Slater might be hot, but Heather didn’t feel in the least like smiling. “A spy for what?” She couldn’t help but be sarcastic. “Protecting the country from invasive plants?”

      Although spy was going a little too far, Heather could believe Rick had been military at some time. Probably an officer. He held himself with an authority that had bothered her. Considering her husband, Scott, had been killed in Iraq, she had no desire to get to know any man who was former, current or future military.

      She only hoped the little show The Terminator had given Tyrone and Amber by making her look silly hadn’t damaged her relationship with her team.

      CHAPTER TWO

      RICK KEPT GLANCING over to see what Heather Clarke and her team were doing as he finished mowing the lawn area around the mansion. He’d enjoyed annoying her just a little. She was plenty bossy for someone so young. Young. Yeah, she was, no matter the tempting curves she’d hidden under that baggy sweatshirt, curves he’d felt beneath him when he’d had her on the ground. No sense in thinking about that or about her at all.

      No sense in thinking about anyone, not when he was here to do a job.

      He had to redirect his mind back to his mission.

      Mowing the lawn was simply part of his cover, though he had carefully adjusted the mower higher as Heather had suggested. He didn’t want to be a grass destroyer. He snorted at the idea and remembered how Heather had glared at him when she’d made the accusation. Hmm,