The Sweetest Gift (The McKaslin Clan: Series 1 Book 2)

by Jillian Hart

  “No problem there, as long as you keep bringing me my favorite candy. You are my favorite, boy. Always have been and always will be.”

  “You are my favorite, too.” That was about as affectionate as he could stand being. He loved his aunt, but love was tenuous. And he’d believed in love—his mother’s, his wife’s—and seen how easy it was for love to crumble away into hatred.

  The bent screw gave and the broken cabinet door handle tumbled into his hand.

  “Sounds like you’re hard at work.” Now the worry was there in Ruth’s voice. “The damage to the house isn’t too bad, is it?”

  “Not too bad,” he said, because it was only the truth.

  The damage wasn’t too bad at all. It was more than bad. It was appalling. The place was trashed. But it wouldn’t be by the time Ruth saw it. He’d fix everything damaged between the roof and the foundation first.

  “Oh, I’m so relieved. The Realtor was simply exaggerating about the damages, then. I don’t know what I would do if I had to find the money to repair that house. It was fine enough to inherit a rental property, but it’s been nothing but trouble. Sam, you’re my saving grace in all this. I can’t tell you what it means to have you take care of this for me.”

  “For you? You’re the one letting me buy this place. The real estate market around here is pretty tight.”

  “Yes, but heaven knows the house has to be in good repair. And clean. I could hire my cleaning woman to come over. She’s quick as a whip and thorough, too.”

  The place in Sam’s chest where a whole heart used to be felt constricted. His aunt was a good person, and there weren’t too many of those in this world. “Let’s hold off on a cleaning lady for a while, okay?” A long while. “I’d like to do a few more repairs and then paint the whole place.”

  “Oh, of course. Maybe I’d best buy the paint. You go down to the hardware store and put it on my account.”

  Although it was generous of Ruth, Sam figured that by the time he was done, he would have charged up an easy ten grand. “Why don’t you let me worry about that? I thought that was our agreement. I fix this up for sweat equity, right? I’ve got it under control.”

  “Such a relief, such a dear boy. Say, have you met little Kirby McKaslin next door?”

  The memory of his beautiful neighbor flashed through him like sunlight. She was as graceful, as soft and as perfect as the warm spring day. “Yep. I did happen to meet her. I had to go next door and borrow her hose.”

  “She’s a cute girl, don’t you think? And as good as gold. Comes from a fine family—”

  He knew where this was going. “Don’t even start.”

  “Start what? I’m just telling you about your new neighbor. I want you to be friendly to her, since she’s a friend of the family.”

  “Friendly? Is that all? I heard a scheme in your voice.”

  “You heard no such thing.”

  “Call it instinct, then.”

  “Instinct? Why, that’s preposterous. I wouldn’t try to fix you up with a nice, pretty young woman—”

  “Fix me up, huh?” At least he’d got her to admit it. Sharp, fire-hot pain scorched a sharp point through the center of him, all the way down to his soul. He knew she had no clue what she was doing to him. “I’ve asked you not to fix me up.”

  Ruth’s sigh came across the line, not as a whisper of surrender but rather as a gathering of determination. “I know how you feel about women. You’re wrong, and you’re smart enough to figure that out one day. There are plenty of wonderful, kindhearted women in this world—good Christian girls—looking for a strong and decent man like you to love and cherish.”

  His chest compressed. His lungs deflated. The pain left his eyes burning.

  To love and cherish? No, he’d tried that once and he wouldn’t go there again. He refused to remember another nice Christian girl, the one he’d vowed before God to honor and love for the rest of his life. “Ruth, you’re killin’ me here.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”

  “I have.” His throat seized up. If he didn’t stop his aunt from going down this path, he’d wind up one big, raw wound, open and bleeding. “I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop this. I can’t take it.”

  “A big strong warrior like you?”

  “I’m not a warrior anymore.” The sadness of that battered him, too.

  “You’re a fine man, and I’m proud to call you my nephew.” Love shone in her words.

  But it wasn’t strong enough to diminish his hopelessness. Or change his mind.

  Ruth, protected and gentle hearted, didn’t know what he knew. He’d seen too much as a man, as a soldier, as a husband to believe there was any goodness at all in the world. Any goodness that lasted.

  He reassured his aunt about the house so she wouldn’t worry, and ended the call before she could get another word in edgewise about Kirby McKaslin.

  How did Ruth think that he’d just be able to trust anyone enough to love again? And why Kirby McKaslin? Her pretty face flickered back into his thoughts like a movie reel stuck on one vibrant, flawless frame, refusing to fade.

  Why was he thinking about her? Picturing her in his mind as if he was interested? He wasn’t. A smart man would put all thoughts of her aside and keep his distance from her. Forever.

  There was nothing else he could do. He had no heart left.

  Since he was a smart man, he didn’t look out the window over the sink, which gave him a view of the side of her house. He blocked all images of her as he dropped the screwdriver into his tool belt and ambled out the door and into the welcome sunshine.

  He’d finish replacing the valves in the basement, coil up the hose and return it.

  Kirby McKaslin was nice enough. She was his neighbor. He’d have to see her time and again. The casual kind of run-ins that neighbors wound up having. He’d be nice to her, friendly, polite, neighborly.

  But that was all.

  With his game plan ready, Sam stretched the kinks out of his back. Where was his dog?

  “Oh!” A woman’s gasp of surprise tore him out of his quick flash of panic.

  What was Kirby McKaslin doing in his yard, glowing golden and dainty and heavenly, her hair rumpled and windblown? Then he looked down and realized she had a tight grip on a bright pink leash. The leash was attached to a powerful rottweiler. She bent to free the dog, and Leo bounded forward to run circles around Sam’s legs.

  “Howdy, boy. What have you done now?” Sam knelt to stroke his hands down the dog’s broad back. It was the best choice, since that meant he didn’t have to look at Kirby.

  It was his rotten luck that he couldn’t forget her entirely. Her feet were in his line of vision. Delicate feet to match the rest of her encased in trim leather loafers made of the softest-looking leather he’d ever seen. She was quality all the way—any man could see it.

  Remember, be polite and neighborly. That was the plan. He refused to remember another delicate woman. See, with just that tiny thought, pain ripped through him, raw and jagged. A constant reminder of the biggest mistake of his life.

  One he’d never make again.

  Chapter Three

  “Your dog must have found a space in the fence,” she said in that velvety-soft voice of hers. “It was no trouble figuring out who he belonged to.”

  She was trying to make conversation. Whether she was just being polite or trying to start a relationship thing, Sam didn’t know. He couldn’t let himself care.

  He stared hard at his dog. Leo glowed with happiness. He obviously liked Kirby. That was one check mark in her favor, that she was kind to animals, but he wasn’t going to let it change his resolve.

  He stood slowly, careful of his stiff left leg. “Thanks for bringing him back.”

  “It was my pleasure. He’s a good dog. A little energetic.”

  “He’s got a lot of puppy in him still.” Sam kept his focus on his dog’s broad head. “Guess I’ll be right over to fix that fence. I’
m sorry he jumped into your yard. C’mon, Leo, inside. Now.”

  The dog followed him, happily tossing their pretty neighbor his most charming dog grin.

  It was embarrassing, that’s what, a tough guard dog with his tongue lolling like that. That kind of affection would lead a guy to heartache. Didn’t the dog know that?

  “Leo? That’s his name?”

  That was Kirby’s voice, dulcet with amusement, calling him back, making his shoes pivot so that he turned toward her, as if he had no say in it. As if his feet were in charge.

  “What’s wrong with the name Leo?”

  “Nothing, exactly.”

  Leo danced at the tinkling warmth of Kirby’s laughter. Sam had to admit he liked the sound of it, too. Soft, not grating. Gentle, not earsplitting.

  “It wasn’t what I expected from a big dangerous-looking dog like that.” She held out one hand and Leo dashed straight for her, gazing adoringly at her while she scratched his chin. “Is he purebred?”

  She was captivating. He couldn’t seem to figure out a way to answer. He was a big tough guy. He knew how to speak. What was wrong with him?

  You’re in trouble, man. His game plan was going to be blown to bits if he didn’t thank her and exit stage left. All he had to do was haul Leo through that door, close it, and he’d be safe. Unattached. Distant.

  But did he do that? No. Did he summon up his best drill-sergeant impressions and sound harsh and mean so that she’d never look at him again with those sparkling eyes full of hope? It’s what he should have done.

  But did he? No. He wanted to hear her laugh again. Against every instinct he had, he advanced when he should have retreated. “So what would you have named him? Wait, I know. Something fancy. Like Prince or Duke, maybe.”

  “Now you’re mocking me.” She thrust her gently rounded chin just high enough for the wind to sneak beneath the fall of her silken hair and ruffle it.

  The wispy locks caressed the side of her face and made him wonder if her hair was as soft as it looked.

  “No, I like people names for dogs,” she added. “They have feelings, too.”

  “Let me guess. You’ve got one of those pampered little dogs. With carefully brushed hair tied up with a pink ribbon. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “A cocker spaniel, right?” He’d recognized the note and type of bark earlier, when she’d been unlocking her front door.

  “How did you know?”

  “I just do. I’m gifted.” Oh, that made her laugh. “What? You don’t think so?”

  “Gifted isn’t the word I’d use. Irritating. Annoying. Arrogant.”

  “Ouch. Calling me names already? That doesn’t bode well for our future together as next-door neighbors.” He liked the way a little wrinkle furrowed between her brows right at the bridge of her nose. “You’re mad because I’m right.”

  “I’m not mad, and there’s nothing wrong with having a polite dog.”

  “My dog doesn’t have to be well mannered. Not with his good looks. He’s naturally adored no matter what.”

  Was Sam Gardner talking about himself, too? “Yes, but good looks can only take a guy so far.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.” He braced his hands on his hips, a fighting stance, broadening his shoulders, drawing tight his chest muscles.

  He looked as invincible as steel, but there was a tenderness in him, a kindness that shone in the chocolate warmth of his eyes, that gleamed like a promise in his deep rumbling voice. “My dog is good-looking and at the top of the food chain. Look at him. Big teeth. Bred for fighting. He’s a trained guard dog.”

  “He’s a thief. He helped himself to most of the dog biscuits.”

  “I can get you another box. Hold on.”

  “I don’t want you to reimburse me with dog treats. I was just—” Okay, so Sam Gardner did meet another criterion. He could make her laugh.

  But that didn’t mean he was a good man. For example, he might not be a responsible pet owner. “Didn’t you notice Leo was gone from your yard?”

  “One minute I looked out the window and he was fine. But the phone rang and he must have escaped while I was talking to my lady love.”

  “You were talking with your aunt, huh?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I’m gifted—what can I say?”

  “You overheard me through the open windows when you were bringing Leo back.”

  “And you heard my dog’s little bark.”

  Sam chuckled, low and deep, studying her with a gaze so intent, it was as if he could see her soul, and she shivered, feeling exposed. Way too exposed.

  She took a step back, confused, not at all sure she liked this man. He definitely wasn’t anything close to her ideal of Mr. Right.

  What she knew for sure was that it was time to leave. “Goodbye, Leo. It was nice meeting you. Come over any time to visit.”

  “I’ll be fixing that fence. It’s next on my list,” Sam informed her as she held out her hands and the big dog laid his face in her open palms.

  “I’m glad. This is a quiet neighborhood, but there’s always a car now and then that’s driving too fast and isn’t watching for kids or pets.” She knelt, her hair falling all around her face and her shoulders and tumbling down over her nape, to let Leo kiss her chin. “Good dog, good boy.”

  Sam’s heart stopped beating. He’d never seen such gentle hands. Slender and fine boned, with long tapered fingers. She looked like kindness personified, and it rocked him to the core—as if he’d taken a direct blow from a grenade launcher.

  Leo gazed at her again with adoration, and while Sam wasn’t about to do the same, he could see there was something endearing about her. With her head bent forward, he could see the careful part of her hair—perfect, not a strand out of place.

  See? She was just what he thought. The perfect woman with a perfect life looking for the perfect man to marry.

  He wanted nothing to do with that.

  To make it clear, Sam stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. He kept them there as Kirby rose like a flower to the sun, straight and elegant and lovely, and smiled at him. Hers was a smile that could melt the polar ice caps with its loveliness. Then she moved away and out of his sight.

  The scent of her perfume, something light and floral and sweet, remained.

  He was alone. And that was good. His life was fine the way it was.

  Leo nudged his knee.

  “C’mon, boy, let’s go grab some lunch. Then we’ve got to get busy. We’ve a lot of work ahead of us.”

  The dog loped up the back steps, dashed across the porch and into the house. He bounded and hopped impatiently while Sam grabbed his wallet and his keys.

  The empty house echoed around him, lonely.

  As his life was meant to be.

  “Ouch!” Kirby sucked her fingernail, a casualty of trying to open the new box of tea. The wrapping remained untouched, despite her torn and bent nail.

  What did they make this stuff out of? Invisible steel? Forget breaking another fingernail over this. She was going for the big guns.

  She yanked open the top kitchen drawer and rummaged around in the mess. Where had the scissors gone? The ringing phone interrupted her search.

  “Hello, Kirby dear. I just wanted to give you a quick call and let you know that my nephew is moving in next door to you.”

  “Hello, Ruth.” Kirby tucked the cordless phone against her shoulder and spotted the scissors in the back of the drawer. “I’ve already met Sam.”

  “What did you think?”

  Was that excitement in Ruth’s voice? “I think he’s, uh, well, it was interesting to meet him.”

  “Oh, my.” The excitement faded into distress. “He wasn’t rude to you, was he? He comes across rather rough sometimes. He’s had a hard life, the poor man.”

  She knew Ruth was dying to tell her, but Kirby wasn’t about to ask. It wasn’t her business and she didn’t listen to gossip. Sh
e didn’t want to know Sam’s hardships.

  That wasn’t true. She was curious. What was the real scoop on that man?

  Instead she said, “Sam told me he’s repairing the house for you, too.”

  “That’s right—he’s a real hard worker. He’ll do a fine job. I know the kind of first impression he gives, but I promise you he’ll make a fine neighbor. My Sam’s dependable, strong, hardworking and honest. Why, he’s as good as the day is long, and the stories I could tell about him…”

  What stories? Kirby wondered, but it wasn’t any of her business. Really. “I’m happy he’ll make a quiet and responsible neighbor. How are you feeling today?”

  “Fine, now that my nephew has moved to town to help me out.”

  Kirby jabbed the pointed tip of the scissors into the shrink-wrap. The plastic stuff gave way. Finally. “I suppose this means I’ll be seeing more of you, since you’ll be coming to visit Sam.”

  “Yes. He’s a great cook. Did you know that?”

  “No.” It was sweet, how much Ruth loved her nephew. “You’re proud of him, I can tell. It must mean the world to have him living close.”

  “I’ll say! He’s been away, traveling the globe since he graduated from high school, but we’ve kept in touch over the years. I wrote him faithfully every week. And now here he is, taking care of so many troubles for me.”

  Sam did look as though he could solve any problem. After she hung up, Kirby rose on her tiptoes and could see him perfectly through her kitchen window. He was in his backyard tossing a huge orange plastic bone. His enormous black dog leaped like a puppy, knocking into shrubs and bounding over flowers as he raced after his toy. Leo loped back with the bone lodged in his powerful jaws and dropped it onto Sam’s waiting hand.

  It wasn’t the dog she noticed, but the man. How he rubbed his dog’s head with a strong but kind touch. Sam looked different. With his guard down, he almost appeared good-hearted. As strong as steel, as powerful as a midnight storm, but benevolent.