Meeting Mr. Right. Deb Kastner

partially worked. Her frown eased a little, though it didn’t go away. She rolled her eyes and took another step back. “Are you kidding? With an overprotective dad and two big brothers, I’ve had every lecture in the book and then some.”

      “Any reason why this lesson didn’t stick?”

      She tilted her head thoughtfully and shrugged. “Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. I’m pretty independent. I’ve been told I’m stubborn, too, if my brothers have an opinion about it.”

      Her response seemed serious, and she was still frowning at him. Ben wasn’t sure what to say or why the woman was so determined to be angry with him when he’d just saved her from breaking her neck.

      He shifted from foot to foot, measuring his words before speaking to the overly testy woman. Speaking suddenly felt like a new and difficult skill, one of which he was nearly incapable. He hadn’t yet sorted out words in his brain, much less found the faculties necessary to utter them from his lips, before she spoke again.

      “Climbing to the top rungs of ladders is just one of many of the perils of being short,” Vee explained. She waved the hanging basket in front of him. “At least I got the basket, thank you very much.”

      “Right,” he agreed, but he was shaking his head. “We wouldn’t want you to have to climb back up on that ladder and risk putting life and limb in danger again.” He paused and cocked his head, staring at her speculatively. “So tell me why, exactly, are you stealing flowerpots from my parents’ backyard?”

      Her frown deepened, and for a moment he worried that she’d taken his teasing seriously. She was always pretty quick to think the worst of him. To his relief, she relaxed after a moment instead. “Of course I’m not trying to steal anything. Your folks asked me to come here to do a little spring landscaping for them.”

      “Why would they do that? If they want some work done, I can do it for them.”

      That, and the fact that of all the people on the planet they’d chosen to work on their yard, it had to be the one woman he had trouble working with at all. And he would be working here, now that he’d discovered his parents’ plan. But there was no reason why Vee had to stay. All he had to do was to talk his parents out of this decision, which shouldn’t be that difficult, right? Then Vee could go on her merry way.

      Her eyes widened and she stared at him like he was slow on the uptake. Could she really blame him? He was still reeling from the nearly averted disaster of catching a plunging-to-the-pavement woman. His heart was still pounding heavily in his chest, stoked by adrenaline. He couldn’t set it aside as easily as she appeared to have done.

      “It’s my job, remember?” she pointed out in a pithy tone of voice. “I work at Emerson’s Hardware. Lawn and garden. Ring a bell? I know I’ve waited on you at least a few times over the years.”

      “No, of course I know you work at Emerson’s,” he said, quickly backtracking. Was she making fun of him? “What I meant was, why are you here, in my parents’ backyard, trying to release flowerpots from their hooks? They didn’t mention any gardening projects. I’m surprised they didn’t consult me first.”

      “Why would they?”

      Ouch. She had a point, and she hadn’t made it softly, either.

      His parents didn’t need his permission to landscape their yard, but it disturbed him just the same that they hadn’t asked for his help. He was more than willing to lend a hand. And seriously, what could Vee do for them that he couldn’t do himself?

      “I can dig in the dirt as well as anyone. For free,” he added with extra emphasis. His parents were paying good money when they didn’t need to be.

      Her dark eyebrows rose in perfect curves. “I’m a landscaping specialist, you know. There’s a lot more to it than just digging in the dirt. Apparently your parents seem to think I’m needed here.”

      “Apparently,” he repeated, absently rubbing a spot on his temple that was beginning to throb incessantly. He didn’t get many headaches, but he had a feeling that today might be the exception.

      “You don’t believe me?” She gestured toward the sliding glass door that led to the dining room of the Atwoods’ house. “Be my guest. Ask your mom why she hired me.”

      It wasn’t that he thought she was lying when she’d stated that his parents had hired her. He just didn’t want to accept it. The real problem here, as he was well aware, was that his pride was wounded. He knew it shouldn’t matter that they’d hired, of all people, Vee to do their yard work, but that knowledge scraped across every self-righteous nerve in his body.

      Did his parents think he wasn’t up to a simple landscaping job? Did they think Vee could do it better?

      Honestly. How hard could it be to plant a few flowers and trim a few shrubs? They could have at least asked him if he wanted to do it before they called on outside help. He was certain he could do at least as good a job as Vee.

      “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, gesturing to the back door. “I want to speak with my mom for a second.”

      “Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll be here, planting my flowers and humming my Mozart.”

      “You do that. And try not to fall off any step stools while I’m gone.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      As Ben entered the house through the sliding glass door, familiar sights and smells enveloped him. He breathed deeply and released the tension corded through his neck and shoulders. It was amazing how comforting it was simply to step into the house where he’d spent his youth. Entering his home was like being wrapped in a cozy blanket, not only for warmth but for reassurance.

      “Mom?” he called as he wiped his feet on the welcome mat by the door. “It’s Ben. Where are you?”

      “In the kitchen, honey.”

      He should have known that’s where she would be. His mother was always in the kitchen, baking things from scratch. Cooking was her hobby, and she was excellent at it. She spent hours every week poring over cookbooks and magazines trying to find new dishes to try or new twists on old favorites. It wasn’t until Ben was an adult that he’d really learned to appreciate the work she did.

      He inhaled deeply and groaned with pleasure. The whole house smelled like cinnamon and fresh bread. If he was lucky, she was baking his favorite rolls. His mouth was watering already.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked as he entered and before he’d said so much as a single word. His mother was like that—naturally intuitive where her children were concerned. So why hadn’t she realized he’d be bothered by her landscaping plans?

      “I saw Vee outside,” he said, trying for a conversational tone, though he doubted he succeeded.

      “Oh, yes. Isn’t she a dear, willing to work on our yard even when it’s nippy outside? She said she likes being outside, whatever the weather. I really like her. Smart and sensible. And she’s a cute little thing, too, don’t you think?”

      Ben’s gaze widened. Whatever else he thought of Vee, he’d never categorize her as a cute little thing. Fearless, maybe. Spirited, definitely. But cute?

      Not only that, but if he wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like his mother was hinting at something beyond simply drawing his attention to the fine work Vee was doing. His mother had been trying to set him up with women since the day he turned twenty. Apparently she wanted grandchildren, and the sooner the better.

      But Vee? That was definitely pushing the limits, even for his mother. Vee had never made any secret of the fact that she didn’t care for him, and someone as perceptive as his mother had to have noticed.

      As if to make it up to him for the suggestion, she pushed a dessert plate loaded with freshly baked cinnamon rolls in his direction. He poured himself a tall glass of milk and settled down