First Comes Love

  “Are you drawing pictures?”

  Tyson’s dark brow creased at the sudden change of topic then his gaze followed Mia’s line of vision toward his worktable. “Ah, that. No, I’m not drawing. I’m looking at blueprints. They’re kind of like drawings, though. They show me what we have to do to the house. Want to see?”

  “Yeah!” Mia cheered as she bounced.

  “Okay, come on.”

  As he gently took Mia’s hand, possessiveness gripped Kat. His assumed familiarity with Mia was a bit too forward. He was a stranger working on their neighbor’s house who had no right to hold her daughter’s hand. Kat quickly followed them across the yard intending to force some space between this man and her child, but once they were in front of the worktable, he released Mia and Kat slightly relaxed.

  He showed Mia a sketch of the entire property. “You see I’m trying to find the best place for that doghouse we talked about.”

  Mia frowned trying to make sense of the geometric images in front of her. “Maybe there?” She pointed to a room labeled Master Bath.

  “Ah, well, that’s the bathroom. See, this here’s the backyard. This is the fence and these are the trees.”

  His long, tapered, work-roughened finger traced the images. A white scar nicked the dark flesh above his middle knuckle. His nails were cut to the quick and his nail beds were darker than hers.

  “Oh,” Mia said. “Maybe under this tree?”

  “That looks like a good place.” Tyson grinned and winked at Kat, flustering her all the more.

  “I can draw it for you. I’m a good colorer. Momma says I’m an artist.”

  “Is that so?” Tyson plucked his pencil from his bandana. “Well, here you go. Draw me a little doghouse right under that tree—”

  “Uh—” Kat interrupted placing a staying hand on Mia’s shoulder as her daughter reached out and fisted Tyson’s pencil in her three-year-old grip. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, babe. Maybe you could draw Mr. Adams a picture of a doghouse on your own paper and give it to him. Blueprints are very expensive and I’m sure his boss would be upset if he let someone color on them.”

  Tyson slowly rocked back, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he studied her. The side of his mouth curved and a hint of his dimple showed. “I’m sure my boss wouldn’t mind—”

  “Tyson—”

  “Kat,” he countered. “It’s fine. Really. The blueprints belong to Adams Construction. I’m Tyson Adams. They’re mine.”

  When she only shook her head he continued to explain, “I’m the boss.”

  Kat opened her mouth and her cheeks heated. Embarrassment lodged an uncomfortable lump in the pit of her belly. Saws buzzed around them and the scent of cut wood laced the spring air. He waited for her to say something. Her mouth worked, but no words came out. “But still, you don’t want to let a three-year-old doodle on your blueprints.”

  “Not just a three-year-old—an artist. Go ahead, Mia, give it your best shot.”

  He turned to observe Mia and Kat frowned at the back of his head, speechless. He arrogantly assumed his permission was enough. Who did he think he was?

  Kat wasn’t used to people maneuvering her. Well, except for her mother of course. Vivian was a master of manipulation. But this guy was nobody to her and Mia was her child who should listen to her mother, not strangers. If she told her not to draw on the blueprints she should’ve listened.

  “Very nice, Mia!” He seemed genuinely pleased with her work. His large hand engulfed her daughter’s shoulder, praising, and Kat’s stomach tightened another degree with unease as she scowled at him. Inwardly, she fought the sense of being removed. She wanted to bulldoze up to him and smack his hand away.

  “This is the door and this is a bowl for his food.” Mia beamed.

  Kat looked over her daughter’s shoulder at what could only be described as a three-year-old’s masterpiece. It was a circle with four parallel lines going through it and one patch of scribbles.

  “And what color would you paint this doghouse?” Tyson asked.

  “Pink!” It was only her daughter’s enthusiasm at his calm banter that had Kat restraining herself.

  “Hmm…” He dramatically considered her suggestion, tapping his finger on his chin. “But what if it’s a boy dog?”

  “Boys like pink, but I guess you could paint it yellow.”

  “I like yellow.”

  “I’m a good painter. I could help you paint it.”

  “That would be great.”

  A Lexus SUV pulled into Kat’s driveway. Mia turned and squealed, a wide grin breaking across her rosy cheeks. “Kiki!”

  Kiki was the nickname Mia had assigned Jade when she first started to talk. There was no rhyme or reason behind the name, and eventually it just stuck.

  The driver’s door opened and Jade stepped onto the pavement. When she spotted them, she waved, and headed in their direction. Kat breathed in a sigh of relief. Jade had always bolstered her confidence. She was the perfect interruption to distract Mia so they could make their escape.

  A bite of inadequacy pinched as Jade approached in her fitted jeans, tight tank top, and cute mini-cardigan. Kat glanced at Tyson and grimaced when he was studying Jade.

  An uncomfortable gumminess filled her chest, cold and hot all at the same time. Men always watched Jade. It normally didn’t bother Kat. But for some reason, when Tyson looked at her, it did.

  “Kiki!” Mia screeched again. Jade held out her arms as Mia ran toward her, launching herself into her arms at the last moment.

  “A friend of yours?”

  She briefly glanced at Tyson. “Yes.” Jade approached holding Mia and Kat did a quick introduction. “Tyson Adams, this is my good friend, Jade Shultz.”

  “A pleasure,” Tyson said as he shook her hand.

  “Likewise,” Jade replied. Her eyes moved from his large booted feet to the yellow bandana covering his head, openly appraising him.

  “Tyson’s running the construction here for the new owners of the house,” Kat informed her friend.

  “Oh, cool. Did you meet them yet?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  Jade returned her attention to Tyson. “So what are the new people like? I assume you’ve met them? I can’t have Mia and Kat living down the street from a serial killer.”

  “I assure you the new owner is not a serial killer,” he laughed.

  “So if you know they aren’t murderers, what else do you know about them?” Jade had zero social graces, but her cuteness seemed to give her license to be blunt whenever she wanted.

  “He’s an independent businessman. Single, no kids, and apparently a future dog owner.”

  “Ah, single. There you go, Kat.” Jade pointedly hinted, nudging her in the arm with no subtlety whatsoever.

  Kat nervously laughed.

  Tyson cleared his throat. “What about the doctor?”

  Kat frowned when Jade asked, “What doctor?”

  “Uh, the doctor who owns the house?” he replied, looking uncomfortable, his dark eyes moving from Kat to Jade and back to Kat again.

  “Doctor Stevens?” Jade blurted and snorted in a fit of laughter. “My God, Kat! If you have something going on with that old man, you definitely need to get out more!”

  Heat spread all the way from Kat’s collar to her ears. “Dr. Stevens is my elderly boss. He rents the property to us, but he doesn’t live there.” To be completely clear she added, “He’s my landlord.”

  “Ah.” Tyson smirked, the uncertainty fading from his face.

  “Yeah, so perhaps this new neighbor of yours will be the man you’ve been waiting for,” Jade continued.

  Kat shot her a look that told her to shut up when Mia added, “He’s gonna be my friend.”

  “I have not been waiting for a man,” Kat growled under her breath, wishing the subject of her non-existent sex life would drop. This was not a conversation Tyson, nor Mia, needed to witness.

  Perhaps sensing her dis
comfort, Tyson said, “Well, ladies, I have to get back to work. Thanks for drawing me a doghouse, Mia. I’ll see you all later.”

  As Tyson turned to walk away Jade whispered, “Well, at least you have a nice view for the next few weeks.”

  Chapter Three

  Mia played with a bottle of bubbles in the backyard while Kat hung the laundry on the line. The breeze was laced with the sharp scent of fresh cut grass, tinged with the slight hint of gasoline from the lawnmowers running. A steady hum filled the air as neighbors took advantage of the good weather to work in their yards. Mia’s voice carried over the buzzing.

  As she shook out the damp bed linens and clipped them to the line, she caught sight of Tyson in his backyard. The sun warmed Kat’s clothing and hair as she stared. Jade was right. The view was fine.

  Tyson’s muscles tighten and bunch under the exposed skin of his back as he used a shovel to dig a hole. Sweat coating his shoulders and sides glistened in the sun.

  An ache formed low in her belly. What would his skin smell like? Her palms itched as she rolled a clothespin in her fingers. Would his skin be smooth or rough like his hands? She recalled when he had introduced himself, how firm and strong his touch had been.

  Her eyes slowly shut as she pulled in a deep breath. Despite his irritating arrogance, she wanted to breathe him in, get close enough that the tang of his heated skin flooded her lungs.

  She shifted her shoulder, her bra suddenly irritating her flesh. He pierced the shovel into the ground and reached down to retrieve a bottle of water. She concentrated on his forearm as he rested it on the handle of the shovel and guzzled down several gulps before recapping the bottle and returning it to its place on the ground.

  She wasn’t sure if it was his size or the way that he carried himself that had her so mesmerized. Every move he made seemed confident and sure. She craved the sort of resoluteness he displayed, but it went against her indecisive nature. Maybe such confidence came with age.

  She gasped as he unknotted his bandanna, revealing a beautifully smooth, bald head. It was the first time she’d seen his head uncovered. Her pulse thrummed. His lack of hair only made him more appealing. She didn’t know how much more she could take. He unfolded the yellow fabric and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  Oh, yes…

  Tyson laughed as he fitted a fence post into the ground, his neighbor, Kat, unsubtly spying on him. She was a peculiar thing, high strung, but in a charming sort of way—cute, but plain with a natural beauty.

  She didn’t have the best social skills. She was a skittish little thing, yet assertive with her daughter. He suspected she was in her early twenties, but the fact that she had a three-year-old made him unsure. No matter, he was most likely ten plus years her senior and that meant he had to keep his thoughts in the PG zone. A task that became more difficult each time he saw her.

  However, he couldn’t deny that he liked catching her spying on him. He’d been watching her as well, found her most intriguing when she didn’t know she had an audience. When it was just Kat and her daughter, she became animated and lost in her own world, chasing bubbles and twirling with little Mia. The kid was adorable—all wild strawberry blond curls and pink, pudgy cheeks.

  Her friend Jade had said Kat was single. He wondered what kind of man let a sweet woman like Kat walk out of his life.

  She was small, but had curves in all the right places, no matter how she tried to hide them. Today she looked more casual than the way he usually saw her during the workweek.

  There was something shy about her; something uptight and guarded that disappeared when she didn’t realize others were watching. Maybe he made her uneasy. No unwritten rule said she had to like him. Or maybe her uneasiness had to do with her baby’s daddy? Maybe Mia’s father had been the kind of guy that made women uncomfortable around men.

  She turned away and hung another white sheet on the line. Tyson admired the way her loose fitting linen skirt whispered over the backs of her knees and swelled over her plump bottom. If there was one thing he admired in a woman it was a nice ass. Kat’s looked soft and round, plenty to hold onto.

  Her hair was down, the brown waves delicately curling at her shoulders. When she’d been in his yard the other day he found the way the sunlight played over her hair incredibly distracting.

  She bent over—nice—picking another item from her basket. As she turned he admired the way her white t-shirt molded to her chest. She appeared happy and he thought he caught echoes of her humming as she hung the laundry across the line.

  The vision she made in front of the white sheets blowing with the bubbles in the breeze could have sold as an Americana watercolor postcard. All that was missing was a homemade apple pie resting on the sill of her window and the Norman Rockwell moment would be complete.

  As the fresh laundered sheets worked their way across the line, he got a whiff of fabric softener. Would her clothes carry the same sweet freshness? His body stiffened at the thought of pressing his face into the curve of her neck and breathing in the mixed scent of her clothes, skin, and hair. He bet her skin would be as soft and as warm as the sun- kissed cotton fluffing in the breeze.

  Back to work. She’s too young for you.

  He thrust the shovel into the ground in an attempt to dispel his arousal. It had been too long since he’d last had a woman. After digging a few more patches out of the earth, he stopped to get a sip of water. It was damn hot for early spring.

  Using his bandana to wipe his brow, he pulled the damp cloth away and turned to see if she was still there. She squeaked and jumped behind the veil of the sheets as his gaze collided with hers. She had been staring at him again. A rush of satisfaction punched through his veins. So much for losing his hard on. Did she like what she saw?

  Dainty feet in plain flip-flops showed under the sheet. Little did she know that the angle of the sun left her silhouette in full view. The side of his mouth kicked up as the shadow of her curvy body anxiously fidgeted and her feet shifted.

  Were her toes ticklish?

  She was definitely skittish. She couldn’t even look him in the eye when he talked to her. He didn’t think she was like that with everyone, but he hated to think that he, specifically, made her uncomfortable.

  Kat had a lot going for her. She took care of her daughter, had a job, a home and she was beautiful. These were all qualities a person could be proud of—not that she wasn’t—but she sometimes seemed unsure of herself.

  He had the suspicion she didn’t get complimented as much as she probably should and that was a damn shame. He’d compliment her all day long if she could bring herself to talk to him.

  He waited for her to peek around the sheet and wave, but as her slow moving shadow worked closer to the edge, again and again, she chickened out every time. He had to laugh. She certainly was skittish as a kitten.

  He’d caught her watching him!

  Taking a few minutes to find her composure, Kat took a few slow breaths. Peeking back around the sheet, she exhaled, tension leaving her shoulders. He’d retied his bandana around his head and was shoveling again.

  Kat stayed behind the sheet—tilting only her head past the protective barricade—when Tyson looked in her direction again. He grinned and shook his head, as if laughing to himself, and continued on with his work.

  Frowning, she wondered if he was laughing at her. She ducked behind the sheet and chewed on her nail, debating if she should go inside. She liked watching him, but she hated when he saw her.

  Suddenly the phone rang. Kat picked up her basket, called Mia to follow inside, as she turned toward the house. Dropping the basket in the hall, she ran to the kitchen to pick up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Katherine, what were you doing? You sound out of breath.”

  “Hi, Mom. I was out back with Mia.”

  “Oh. How’s my granddaughter?” Her tone always reeked of skepticism whenever she asked about Mia’s wellbeing, as if Kat’s parenting skills would forever
be in question.

  She should talk.

  The automatic expectation that she would somehow fail never seemed to fade. It amazed her that Vivian could be so critical of her parenting, when Kat was a more active and nurturing parent than her mother ever was.

  “She’s fine. How’s Dad?”

  “He’s well. That’s actually why I’m calling. You’re father has a colleague he’d like you to meet.”

  She cringed. Her parents’ taste in men were nothing like her own and while the entire world was hoping she’d meet a man and marry, she had no desire to do so. The mere thought of dating—the effort of physically and mentally preparing for such fabricated social meetings—exhausted her.

  “He’s in his late twenties and works on the township’s board of trustees. He’s never been married and is quite handsome from what I understand.”

  “Mom, I’d really rather not be one of your charity cases.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Katherine. You’re my daughter. You’re a lovely young woman and some men might be kind enough to overlook your past.”

  This was her mother’s idea of support. She’d compliment her then execute a passive dig.

  “I’m really not in the market to date right now. I tell you this all the time. My life’s as full as I want it. Mia doesn’t need to suffer through the complications of me dating.”

  “Mia needs a father,” her mother said as Kat considered how much better her self-esteem would’ve been if her father were absent from her life. “She’d benefit from having a strong male figure in her life. You know your father can only compensate so much for your shortcomings. And you’d benefit from having a husband, someone to take care of you. Then you could quit that job and stay home with Mia instead of shipping her out to your neighbors.”

  “Mia likes going to Mrs. Bradshaw’s and I like my job.” God forbid Vivian D’Angelo acted as a babysitter. No, that would be too much.

  “That’s not the point. The point is that your father sees this man as a suitable match for you. It would please him if you at least—once—did the dutiful thing and followed his request without our coercion.