Summer's Night

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Summer ignored his rapt attention, writing it off as part of a son's protectiveness, though his unyielding stare pricked her nerves irritably. Putting her focus back on her client, she followed Mrs Kensington to the doorway.

  "Call me Night."

  Chapter 3

  Night's gaze raked Summer's body from head to toe and back again. She would never walk the runway in Paris but, at the same time, held her own in the physical looks department. Her sandy blonde ponytail hung just past her shoulder blades, making her hair a few inches longer than his own. Large brown eyes enhanced a rounded face, long eyelashes framing sparkling eyes. Funny, he'd never paid much attention to eyelashes before.

  Her green scrubs hinted at an athletic, toned body, the short-sleeved top revealed tanned skin and sculpted muscles. Most women carried a softer build. Outside of athletes, few ladies sported defined arms and shoulders signaling familiarity with physical activity. The crown of her head would brush his chin, making her close to average height for a woman.

  True to her word, she kept his mother upright and on track. Only once did her hand tighten severely on the belt, the muscles in her arm standing out as she lifted. The subtle movement would have been missed by most others, even him, if he wasn't watching their every step with practiced eyes. Her compact body appeared to possess adequate strength for her work-required endeavors.

  "Okay. Night. I'm Summer." She spared him a glance.

  She didn't look like a teenager, probably in her twenties, he guessed. That was older than he'd feared. Grudgingly, he admitted she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. His unease settled as he watched her in action, the kindness and patience she showed to his mother, her quick praise and encouragement reassuring him. And all done with a smile.

  Maybe she would work out after all.

  "There. You did wonderfully." Summer tugged the walker to the side of the recliner from where his mother sat. "Let me get you something to drink. What would you like?"

  His mother took a deep breath and only paused for a second before answering. "Tea. I believe there are some tea bags in the cupboard by the fridge. You can get the hot water from the coffeemaker."

  Summer headed toward the kitchen. "I'll bring you those oatmeal cookies too. You've earned them." Stopping, she looked at him. "Would you like anything, Night? A refill perhaps?"

  He shook his head. "No thanks." Taking a long sip of his quickly cooling java, he watched her go, energy in every step. To be honest, her offer to wait on them caught him by surprise. Granted, he didn't know much about physical therapy, but he'd expected her to come in, do some exercises with his mother then dash off to another patient. Not bring her cookies and make her green tea in addition to her regular duties.

  "Isn't she a dear?" his mother's soft voice broke into his thoughts.

  "She's not what I expected," he admitted, watching the doorway for her to re-emerge.

  He'd seen more beautiful women, even dated his fair share of them. Summer seemed more down to earth, not a knockout who sent men to their knees and gave them fuel for erotic dreams for nights to come. Yet, something about her snared his attention and refused to let go. What little he'd seen of her personality and her pretty looks drew his curiosity, whetted his appetite for more.

  His mother looked over at him. "She's such an angel. Bakes cookies and does a lot more than she has to. Not a lazy bone in her body. Single, too."

  Night noticed the familiar twinkle in his mother's eye and cringed. Here we go again. She was back to playing matchmaker, an old hobby for her. More than once, she'd prodded and pushed him toward one woman or another, pointing out all their wonderful attributes. The one time he took her advice on a particular woman, it ended in a disaster. He swore afterward he would ensure his mother stayed out of his social life, no matter her frequent clamoring for grandchildren. "Not interested, Mother."

  She snorted. "Stubborn as a frog after a lightning bug. You aren't getting any younger."

  He rolled his eyes. "I'm only thirty-one. Last time I looked, that's not quite in my dotage. Besides, I don't need any help finding a date. Thanks anyway."

  "You wouldn't know a good thing if it smacked you in the face," she grumped.

  Summer entered the room, carrying a container of cookies as well as a steaming mug. "Here you go. The tea is hot, so watch your tongue."

  "Thank you."

  After handing off the drink, Summer held out the treat in offering. "They're oatmeal."

  His mother reached in, pulling two cookies out, placing them on the napkin Summer also provided. Once she finished, Summer moved over to him.

  He followed suit, snatching a cookie from the box. "Thanks."

  "You're welcome."

  Her smile lit up her entire face. Bright white teeth sparkled in the morning sunlight streaming through the large bay window.

  His breath caught as something deep inside clicked.

  "I better get going. Thank you for working so hard, Mrs Kensington. Do you want me to leave the gait belt with you or take it with me?" she asked while unhooking the garment and slipping it off.

  "Oh, you can leave it here. Just set it on the table there."

  "I'll see you tomorrow at the same time?" She lightly rolled up the belt, setting it on the coffee table.

  "Of course." His mother patted the younger woman's hand.

  "It's a date, then." With a small wave, Summer headed to the front door.

  Night met her there, opening the door for her. He stared down at her for a moment before giving a small nod. "Thank you."

  "You're very welcome. Your mother is a wonderful lady. I enjoy her appointments."

  The corner of his mouth hitched upward. "Don't tell her that too much or she'll be impossible to live with."

  She chuckled, her eyes sparking with amusement. "I'll do my best. It was nice meeting you, Night."

  "Same here."

  He stood in the doorway, watching her trot to her car, climb in, and drive off. I'll be looking forward to tomorrow.

  "It's a wonder a girl like that is single," his mother called from across the room.

  Returning to his seat, Night released a sigh. His mother would be on the Summer bandwagon for a while. She meant well, but he tired of her meddling. The simple truth was he hadn't found a woman who made him want to settle down and have a family. Settling wasn't an option. He'd seen too many gorgeous women marry for money then take the man for all his assets. Certainly, he didn't top the Fortune 500 list, but he paid his bills and kept enough in reserve so he could retire any time he wanted and not worry about hitting the soup lines due to starvation.

  Some of his men had recently found just such a woman to complete their lives. Damn lucky. Cale found Lily, an office nurse, poor as a church mouse with a heart of pure gold. Cale's brother, Dillon, planned to marry his longtime sweetheart soon. Even Loco stumbled across a wondrous beauty who fit him to a T.

  In all fairness, the men more than deserved to find their other halves. They'd sacrificed everything for their country at one time and now did the same, only in the private sector. Their job factored in an element of true unpredictability, with no set schedule and no care of climate, holidays, or personal wishes. Dangerous and potentially deadly, the Wind Warriors flew under the radar, performing hard, dirty jobs that someone had to do. It wasn't an easy life and didn't lend itself to a family. But deep down he knew each warrior longed for a sweetheart to return home to, to give them a reason to survive, to fight, and to shower them with love as often as they could. He was no different.

  "What do you know about her?" He sat his mug on the table before getting comfortable in the high backed chair.

  She smiled warmly. "So, you're interested."

  He shook his head. "I want to run her through an intel check. Make sure she's on the up and up."

  She sighed. "You'll do it anyway, I'm sure. But, you won't find anything."

  "We'll see."

  His mother's face brightened. "Why don't you ask her yourself tomor
row morning?"

  He read the challenge in her eyes. "Fine." Grabbing his coffee cup, he marched into the kitchen, tired of playing games with his well-meaning mother.

  Tomorrow. He would question the therapist, do a quick background check, and satisfy himself she was legit. It would ensure his mother received the best care and no fishy business existed. After that, he could rest easy and wave off his mother's romance plans relating to him and Summer for good.

  Chapter 4

  "Hi, Murphy. Have a good day?" Summer petted the head of her extra large, fluffy white dog as she opened the front door. "Need to go outside?" Holding the door open, she followed the animal out, watching as Murphy trotted here and there, sniffing over her property before finally finding a place to squat.

  Nearly a year ago, Summer had stumbled across a mobile pet adoption event at the local store. Although she'd considered a companion animal for a while, she'd talked herself out of it each and every time. Her work schedule kept her busy, too busy for a dog, she told herself over and over again. Until she looked into the deep brown eyes of Murphy. The purebred Great Pyrenees had wandered the highway for several weeks, living off road kill, before a Good Samaritan had taken her in. Unable to keep her, they'd brought her to the local Humane Society. Slated for euthanasia, a rescue group stepped forward at the last minute, saving her life. Her long white hair contained multiple mats extending to the skin, which couldn't be brushed out, forcing the rescue to shave her hair, further exposing her skin-and-bones body. After that, she'd remained in a foster home for a few weeks, gaining weight, getting routine vet work done including being spayed, and learning to trust people again.

  Summer had looked into those soulful eyes of the dog sitting in a large crate in front of the store and her heart had melted. She couldn't bear to leave Murphy behind to an uncertain future, not when she could provide a good home for the needy animal. Within minutes she'd filled out an application and walked away with a new best friend. It was the best decision she'd ever made.

  Murphy wandered back over, leaning heavily against Summer. "Ooph. You're heavy, girl." Rubbing the dog's head, Summer sat down on the front porch, brush in hand.

  Brushing the dog each night served two purposes. Each stroke served as therapy for Summer, helping her release the day's tension and simply relax into the moment she shared with her dog. The other proved more practical. Great Pyrenees were known for their hair and when they shed, it looked like a ton of cotton balls had fallen from the sky. Luckily, daily brushing made a major dent in what her poor old vacuum had to suck off of the floor and out of the area rug. Every couple of weeks she wrestled the one hundred pound dog into the shower, scrubbing her with oatmeal canine soap, then dried her until the soft hair floated in the breeze. Murphy tolerated the procedure with her typical laid-back demeanor. Nothing short of an overt threat to her or the horses got the dog's dander up. Luckily, those didn't happen too often.

  She sighed, grateful for the covered front porch, which provided a shady cool place to rest as she groomed Murphy. As long as she could remember, she'd loved the large area, complete with railing and steps that led to the ground. Her grandparents originally owned the old farmhouse and surrounding acreage; her mother grew up in the very same house. When her frail, elderly grandmother passed three years before, she'd bequeathed the farmhouse and ten acres to Summer, much to her amazement. Her insightful and smart grandmother not only spoke often to Summer's mother about her wishes, she'd written them down in a legalized will, lining up assets and belongings to pass on. Without the generous gift, even as a physical therapist, Summer wouldn't be able to afford the land or to care for the three horses she'd adopted last year if she had to start from scratch.

  Murphy groaned in contentment, stretching out on her side, giving Summer ample space and opportunity to brush her side and belly.

  "Spoiled." She grinned affectionately at the canine.

  Her thoughts wandered back to Mrs Kensington's son, Colton. He preferred being called Night, she quickly reminded herself. An odd nickname, but considering his physical features shouted a strong Native American history, it wasn't a huge surprise. He carried his large frame well, sound and sturdy, muscle mass in abundance, but not extreme like body builders aimed for. No. His strength came from hard work; she could see it in his fluid movements, his graceful motions. A man used to physical activity and comfortable with his body.

  Those deep blue eyes. An odd feature for his heritage, unique yet beautiful. Eyes that reflected understanding and insight as well as intelligence and wisdom. If she didn't know better, she would swear he could see right through her and into her very soul. Intimidating. Not that she had anything to hide.

  Her life could be described as simple. Working with physical therapy clients in their homes then back to care for her home and animals. Pretty boring when compared to most people, but not for her. She enjoyed the solitude and absence from the rat race most people endured.

  Summer wondered what Night's career involved. She knew he lived with his mother, but business took him away often. That much Mrs Kensington told her. She also mentioned he remained single despite dating various women. He just hasn't found the right one to touch his heart. The older woman's words replayed through her mind. She could understand that sentiment, being a romantic herself. Those that married for money or prestige baffled her.

  Her brief interlude with Night that morning hinted he might be difficult to live with. Most certainly he cared for and doted on his mother. She couldn't argue that. But, she'd noticed the way his jaw tensed when she asked him not to assist Mrs Kensington in standing. He didn't take orders well and probably would have told her to shove off if his mother hadn't been present. Control. She could see that in him.

  Alpha male. She shook her head and grinned. All those romance novels corrupted her. But the more she considered it, the more he fit the bill. His physical appearance, his stature, his confident airs. She couldn't see him sitting at a desk forty hours a week. No, he would be outside, doing something active. Probably one of those men who communed with nature on a regular basis.

  Those eyes flashed in her mind once more. She guessed he possessed a mixed heritage based on eye color alone. The details intrigued her. What am I thinking? Everything about that man intrigued her. From the inner workings of his mind, to his day-to-day life, to the nice curve of his muscle packed rear.

  She released a long breath and patted Murphy. No sense getting all worked up over the son of a client. Her contract with Mrs Kensington only lasted four weeks. Besides, based on Night's looks, he could have any woman he wanted, which left her out in the rain with the ordinary cows in the pasture. Average, simple women didn't date upscale men like him.

  Date? Talk about putting the cart before the horse. She shook her head in amusement at herself. Obviously she needed a distraction in her life. And Night wasn't it. Never before had she taken such sudden interest in a man. Too many dang romance novels.

  Shoving all those crazy thoughts from her mind, she stood and headed toward the barn, Murphy jogging along at her side. No more time to daydream about a hero. Chores waited and if she didn't get a move on, she wouldn't be finished before dark.

  Chapter 5

  "Summer, I need a word with you." Night's deep baritone startled her as she strode toward her car.

  Freezing, she took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and turned to meet him. Her hand dropped from her hold on the door handle. His tone could mean anything but she assumed he disliked something about her care and decided to rake her over the coals for some presumed error. She didn't take harsh criticism well, especially undeserved critiques that sent her heart thudding and stomach to rolling. "Yes, Mr Kensington?"

  He walked toward her, his natural ease and grace could make a large feline envious, not stopping until he stood on the edge of her comfort zone. Those cobalt eyes bore down into hers, as if seeking some deeply hidden secret buried in her mind. "The agency was lax in providing background information
about you."

  "Oh." Did he expect her to whip out a resume on the spot? Perplexed, she tilted her head, holding her breath for his explanation.

  "How long have you been a physical therapist? And where did you get your certification from?" He threw out the questions as if interviewing her for an opening in a company.

  She sighed inwardly, but answered truthfully. "I worked as a physical therapy assistant through school. Three years ago I graduated with my master's degree in physical therapy from the University of Arizona."

  "I see." He nodded slightly and leaned up against her car. "I take it you work full time, going to patient's homes, and assisting them with their exercise?"

  She nodded, taking a moment to glance at her watch, hoping he might get the hint.

  "You live nearby? Got a boyfriend?"

  A red flag waved warningly in her mind. Her muscles locked as she stood up straight. He didn't need to know anything personal about her. Professional, fine. She would answer any and all questions he asked about her job and training. But, that's where she drew the line. Too many crazy people lived in the world and she certainly didn't want to encourage a stalker to show up on her doorstep one night. "I don't see how where I live relates to my caring for your mother. If you don't mind, I prefer to keep my personal life just that, personal."

  He stepped forward, glaring down at her. "Since you're working with my mother, I feel it's fair and necessary to know some facts about you. If you think that invades your privacy, then that's too bad. But I won't have less than the best therapist as well as an upstanding person seeing to her needs." His gravelly voice remained soft, but no less intimidating.

  Summer bit her bottom lip, leashing the surging anger at his attitude. As much as she wanted to tell him exactly what she thought about his interrogation, she didn't dare utter a single snarky comment. Her job depended on it. "Look, Mr Kensington. I fully understand your concern about your mother and who will be caring for her. I assure you I'm a good therapist and know exactly what I'm doing. As for the other part, I've never been arrested, never even gotten a single speeding ticket. There are no "Wanted" posters of me on the post office wall, although you're more than welcome to look. I don't drink myself to oblivion each night and I even pay my bills on time." She took a breath and wrapped up her minor tirade. "If you believe I'm doing a poor job or you simply dislike me, that's your prerogative. You have every right to call the agency and ask for a replacement."