by Lori Foster
The backyard was bigger, she reminded herself. Though just as messy, it supposedly led to a wonderful creek. There were beautiful trees that were strong and healthy and only needed to be trimmed.
The most important thing was that she’d be on her own, and closer to her grandfather’s facility. Since she visited him once a day, sometimes more often, the convenience would be a godsend.
“How is your grandfather?”
Bless Lexie for always reading her so easily. Honor showed her gratitude with a quick smile, but the smile was sad at best. “Every time I see him, he’s a little worse. I just need to make sure he stays as comfortable as possible.”
Lexie put a hand on her shoulder to show her commiseration. “I don’t suppose the angry mob is helping much?”
Angry mob was one of Lexie’s many derogatory terms for Honor’s relatives. Given the general attitude of her two aunts, her cousin and sometimes her great-aunt, she wasn’t far off the mark. “They’re all busy, and upset with things, and—”
“You’re a good person, Honor. You know that, right?”
And that was her code for bullshit. Honor sighed. “I try, but I swear, sometimes my patience isn’t what it should be.”
“Your patience is exceptional. They’re just evil.”
“Old,” Honor corrected.
“Hon-or,” Lexie drawled in that chiding way she had that drew out the syllables of her name. “Stop defending them.”
Was that what she’d been doing? Maybe. Mostly just to keep the peace, though. This was a momentous day and she wanted it to stay happy and upbeat, not get dragged down with worries and animosity.
They turned the corner on the quaint, older street and Honor could finally see the beautiful, wonderful, life-altering home she’d purchased thanks to the Ashwood, Ohio, Chamber of Commerce’s new mission—to rehab the town of Clearbrook through initiatives around marketing, business attraction and retention efforts.
Supposedly they’d run off the crime element, cleaned up the streets and, luckily for her, offered special financing on run-down houses with the agreement that the owners would improve the property in a timely manner. She could hardly wait to get started.
Funds would now be limited for a while, but a lot of what needed to be done required time and energy more than cash. Somehow, in the middle of the craziness called her life, she’d manage to find some of both.
“Dear God,” Lexie muttered, losing her amusement. Her feet dropped to the floor and she leaned forward as far as the seat belt would let her. “Please tell me that’s not it.”
“It is,” Honor confirmed with pride. Sure, it was a little rough, the lawn overgrown, the landscaping obliterated. But now it was hers. Lexie might not see the possibilities—but Honor most definitely did. “All it needs is some TLC and love.”
“Or maybe a...demolition?”
“Don’t be dramatic.” With a frown, Honor added, “I wanted you to be happy for me.”
“I know, and I am. I just don’t see why you always want to do things the hard way.” Going quiet, Lexie drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll help. With everything. No, don’t argue. I can’t claim I’m strong and I’ll admit I’ve never remodeled anything. Honestly I’ve never held a hammer. But I’m here for you.”
“Between dating and working and shopping, you mean?” Honor loved Lexie like a sister, but their social calendars, as well as their motivations, were as different as night and day.
As they neared the house, three men stepped out from the garage next door. They’d obviously been working. One held a motor of some sort while the other gestured toward it. The tallest nodded as he cleaned his hands on a towel.
“Oh, hey.” Lexie perked up. “What’s this? Man candy? Very sexy man candy.” She rounded on Honor. “You’ve been holding out!”
Repeatedly glancing at them, Honor shook her head. Nope, no holding out. This was the first time she’d laid eyes on the men. Fact—because if she’d seen them, she sure as heck would have remembered.
“Oh, please, please, please,” Lexie whispered. “Let them be single.”
The guys looked up as the truck drew nearer.
Wiggling her fingers in a wave and grinning hugely, Lexie said, “Okay, so maybe Clearbrook has some appeal after all.”
Flustered with all three men staring at her, Honor accidentally ran over the curb as she maneuvered the truck to the front of her house. Worse, she hit a garbage can and it clattered to the street with nerve-wracking noise.
“Oh, crap.” The truck stopped with bone-jarring impact, and she sat there, stock-still, embarrassed and hoping beyond hope that the men went about their business and ignored her.
“Good going on killing the trash can,” Lexie said with enthusiasm. “That got their attention.”
“I don’t want their attention,” Honor groaned.
Laughing at her, Lexie said, “Relax. They were already looking.”
What a way to make a first impression. Casting a glare at her friend, Honor said, “Shush it. And for heaven’s sake, stop staring!”
“Too late.” Lexie quickly fluffed her short pale blond hair and adjusted the V-neck of her shirt, tugging it a tad lower. “They’re coming this way.”
“Oh God.” After a deep breath, Honor put the truck in Park, turned it off, and—okay, she needed one more breath. “Roll up your window. Pretend you don’t see them. Maybe if we rush into the house real fast, they’ll leave us alo—”
“Hello.”
Cringing, Honor glanced toward Lexie—and found all three men peering into the truck at them. They were each so tall they had to duck down to see in. One guy wore a T-shirt, one a polo, and the other wore no shirt at all.
Combined they gave the impression of masculine curiosity, dark hair and beard shadow. Two of them grinned, and those grins had definite impact.
But the intense expression on the shirtless one about stole Honor’s breath.
She blinked and stared, blinked and stared. Repeat.
The youngest of the three, the one in a T-shirt, laughed. “Busted. No sneaking off now.”
“Colt,” the unsmiling man said in a low, deep voice that teased over her nerve endings and made her heart race. “Pick up the can and spilled garbage, will you?”
Colt grinned. “Yes, sir.” And off he went—with Lexie craning her neck to track him.
The smiling guy propped a shoulder against the side of the window frame and crossed his arms over his chest. With a warning in his tone, said, “He’s seventeen.”
“Who?” Lexie asked.
“My son.” He nodded toward Colt. “Just so you know.”
Jaw dropping, Lexie took another look. “No way. Does Clearbrook have testosterone in the water or something? He looks at least twenty-one.”
Shrugging a thick shoulder, the guy said, “True enough.”
Heat shot into Honor’s cheeks. This situation just kept getting worse and worse. Not only had she taken out their can and been overheard conspiring to avoid them, but now Lexie gawked at an underage kid, never mind that the “kid” did look a whole lot older.
“As his dad,” the man continued, “it keeps me on my toes.”
“You sure you’re his dad?” Lexie looked back and forth between both men. “Because he looks more like—”
“My brother,” he interrupted. “I know. Jason got Dad’s eyes, and so did Colt.”
Brothers? Honor took another look—and caught Shirtless looking back. She swallowed.
“Bet your dad’s a stud, too, huh?”
“Lexie!”
After winking at Honor, Colt’s father met Lexie’s gaze. “We all inherited his features.”
True, Honor thought. Though the one talking appeared just under six feet, and Colt had to be at least six
-three, they shared similar features and overall coloring. Only the eye color was different, with the father’s eyes pale blue instead of the rich dark brown of his son and brother. The shape was the same though, and they each had ridiculously long, dreamy black lashes.
Without really thinking about it, Honor said, “You don’t look old enough to be his dad.”
He shrugged. “I was just out of high school. Call it a youthful indiscretion that I’ve never regretted.”
Honor smiled, enjoying his pride in Colt—until she realized that his brother’s eyes had narrowed, not with menace, but with new awareness as he stared at her mouth.
She couldn’t recall the last time a man had looked at her like that. Might’ve been, oh...never.
It unnerved her and she started to squirm in her seat. These days she appeared more haggard than usual. Because of the move, she hadn’t bothered with any makeup, not that she ever wore that much anyway. But she’d also stuck her hair in a sloppy ponytail, pulled on one of her oldest T-shirts and stepped into the jeans with holes in the knees. Lack of sleep and an overly busy schedule kept dark circles under her eyes.
She tried to concentrate on Colt’s father, but couldn’t. She glanced at his brother again, and her gaze got caught in his. Something, challenge or maybe interest, kicked up the corner of his mouth in a nearly indiscernible way. But she saw it.
Shoot, she felt it.
Breathless, Honor forced herself to look at Colt’s dad. “So, um, you have a beautiful home. I noticed it when I was here before with my Realtor.”
Snorting as if that was somehow ridiculous, he said, “It’s not mine. Jason owns it.”
“Do tell,” Lexie said.
“I’m Hogan Guthrie. Jason is my overly serious brother.”
Hogan the blue-eyed dad, Colt the mature-looking son and Jason...the far-too-hot shirtless hunk. As she committed the names to memory, Honor glanced at each of them, but repeatedly got drawn back to Jason.
The sun highlighted the cut of his cheekbones, the straight line of his nose and across those sleek, hard shoulders. Why didn’t he put on a shirt? She couldn’t quite keep her gaze from his chest, noting he had just the right amount of dark chest hair going from one well-defined pec to the other, then bisecting his body downward...
It wouldn’t kill the man to pull up his well-worn jeans, either. Being healthy and female and, okay, more than a little sex starved, she automatically tracked the treasure trail leading down his abdomen to inside those low-slung jeans...
“Hogan and Colt live here, too,” Jason said while silently accepting her scrutiny.
Busted again. She cleared her throat and got her eyes to focus back on his face. “I see.” To Hogan, she asked, “You and your wife are in the neighborhood?”
Pushing away from the truck, Hogan said, “Colt’s mother is gone.”
That left her floundering. Did he mean...dead? Should she give condolences?
Or maybe he meant she’d moved away.
“For now,” Hogan continued, “we live with Jason.”
Oh. With him. In the same house.
All three of them—right next door to her.
Saving her from the awkward silence, Lexie took over. “I’m Lexie Perkins, and the new homeowner here is Honor Brown.” Then to Jason, she added, “You’re going to make her faint if you don’t let up.”
“Lexie!” Horrified, Honor felt so much heat in her face it nearly singed her. She’d gag her friend if she didn’t stop with the outrageous behavior.
Jason cocked a brow but didn’t look away.
Opening her door and getting out, Honor circled the back of the big truck instead of the front, because it gave her a few seconds more to compose herself.
Her neighbor’s house was to her right, twice the size of the one she’d just bought and with a well-trimmed yard, a big front porch and a massive garage in the back. Through open barn doors she saw a lot of tools and some sort of workbench.
Their driveways ran alongside each other, hers to the right of her house, his to the left of his, with only about fifteen feet separating them. His was concrete, hers gravel. His led to the garage and hers led to...weeds and refuse.
He must hate having such a disreputable mess next to his very nice home. She’d have her work cut out for her, but she decided she’d make repairs to the outside first.
Knowing she’d stalled too long, Honor emerged to the other side of the truck where both men and Lexie chatted about something.
With his attention finally off her, Honor felt free to look him over in more detail. While Hogan and Colt both had their dark hair neatly trimmed, Jason’s was a little too long and unruly, the wavy ends flipping in all directions as if he’d combed it only with fingers, and not any time recently. Pronounced beard shadow made her think he hadn’t shaved for a few days. When he smiled at something Lexie said, his teeth looked incredibly white against his tanned face. Little lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes.
He wasn’t muscle bound like a bodybuilder, but strength showed in his wide shoulders, furry chest and flat abdomen. He was a little sweaty, and so attractive she felt warmer just looking at him.
She hadn’t been following the conversation, so it took her off guard when they all turned to her.
“I’m so sorry about your can,” Honor blurted.
He stared down at her, first at her eyes, then at her mouth. “It survived.”
Getting closer to the men emphasized the differences in their sizes. At five-six, Honor was a whole lot shorter than all of them. “I can buy you a new one.” Although, truth be told, she was pretty tapped at the moment. Hopefully he wouldn’t want it replaced today.
“It’s a decade old and has been beat up before.”
“Then I should at least help Colt pick up—”
“He’s done,” Hogan told her. “Now he’s just texting friends.”
“Girlfriends, I bet,” Lexie said.
But Hogan shook his head. “He misses our old neighborhood. He hasn’t quite settled in here yet.”
Honor looked and sure enough, Colt stood beside the can, his thumbs working over a cell phone.
Jason held out a hand. “So we’re neighbors?”
Her toes curled in her shoes and her pulse fluttered. Trying to hide her reaction at the prospect of touching him, she smiled. “Seems so.”
His large, work-rough hand took her much smaller one, and she froze.
Good grief, you’d think I’d never been touched before.
With her voice too high, Honor asked, “Will I be meeting your wife?”
“Not married.” He released her slowly. “You?”
“We’re both single,” Lexie offered fast.
Jason glanced at the truck with yet another frown. “You’re both moving in?”
“Just me.” New enthusiasm bubbled up. And her palm still tingled from his touch. “Lexie insisted on coming along to help with the heavy things.”
Dubious, both he and Hogan glanced at Lexie.
“I’m having second thoughts,” Lexie said. “I mean...is that place habitable?”
“I’d say no,” Jason answered, his fingers rubbing the whiskers on his jaw. “But here you are.” He stepped around Honor and opened the back of the truck to see her small sofa and chairs, little dinette set, bedroom furniture, plants and a whole lot of boxes.
Behind him, Hogan laughed. “So you two were going to unload all this?”
Lexie elbowed her way past him. “Why not? We got it in there.”
A partial truth. She and Lexie had loaded all the boxes, but her old roommates had supplied their boyfriends to get the heavier stuff inside. They’d tired of her constant late-night runs and were probably happy to see her go. Lending a hand only helped speed up the process.
�
��No way,” Colt said as he rejoined them. “You’re both so little.”
“I have a furniture dolly.” Honor pointed at the folding metal moving contraption in the corner of the truck that she had hoped would make it easier to get everything unloaded. “The truck rental place recommended it, and it really did come in handy.” When moving the boxes.
Hands on his hips, Jason studied everything. “The dolly won’t help you with a couch.”
“We could do it,” Colt said.
Incredibly he sounded hopeful. But Honor had just met them all. No way could she ask for their help and she didn’t want Colt putting his uncle on the spot. “It’s fine, really.” Having no real idea, she swore, “We can get it all, no problem.”
Ignoring her protests, Jason squinted from the sun and asked Colt, “You didn’t make plans?”
“With who? I don’t know anyone here.”
Honor felt for the young man. She’d been uprooted once herself, and it had sucked. “How long have you lived here?”
“About a month.” He held his arms out wide. “But the only people around are ancient.”
“You’ll meet younger people when school starts.” Hogan viewed the contents of the truck with a critical eye. “We were supposed to be helping your uncle with that—”
Jason cut him off, saying, “I need to buy a new part anyway.” His gaze went from the truck to the front of her house. “Before we can get started, though, we need to clear a path.”
“No, really,” Honor tried again, horrified by the idea of imposing on them. “I don’t need—”
“The mower won’t make it.” Colt gave her yard quick scrutiny. “But I could break out the Bush Hog.”
Hogan agreed. “Wouldn’t take too long to clear the front. The back would be a job, though.”
