She twisted an invisible key over her lips.
“Now show me how to protect my lavender plant so it thrives. I’ve already named him Leon.”
“It’s a he, huh?”
“Yeah. My plant might smell girlie, and he’s a little purple, but he’s a very masculine flower. You know. ’Cause he’s mine, and I’m very manly.”
“Yes, aren’t you,” she said drily.
She helped him repot the plant, adding some color—Leon’s “ladies”—to it in the form of a few pink geraniums, with a mix of green mint and grasses. By the end, they had a well-planted container that would fill out.
“It’s kind of sparse.” He frowned. “You sure it’ll get fuller?”
“You have to give plants room to grow.”
“I guess.” He gave it a critical eye, then nodded. “The veggies need some love too.” He nodded to one of the container beds they hadn’t gotten to the last time.
“Is this the price I pay for being able to hang out at this house?”
“Yeah. And gardening is my price for dealing with my sister.”
She grinned. “Lead on.”
They worked well together for close to an hour, under the cool wind and dappled moonlight making fairy patterns on the grass.
“Fairy patterns?” Gavin asked when she commented on it. He hunkered next to her as he patted at the soil around a freshly weeded cucumber plant. “Someone’s a little too fond ofThe Lord of the Rings.”
“Why is that the only movie series people associate with fairies? And they were elves and dwarves, technically.” She paused. “And hobbits.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Name another fairy movie.”
She opened her mouth and closed it. Suddenly blank. Before she could come up with a better argument, she felt a raindrop hit her cheek. Then another.
Gavin glanced up. “Hell. At least it held off for a while.”
She would have agreed, but then the sky opened up, and a torrent of rain fell from out of nowhere.
In seconds, she was drenched. “I’m getting soaked!”
“Shit. Let’s go.” He hauled her with him to the back porch, then left her to ease Leon and his new pals under the eaves, so that the water wasn’t pummeling directly on top of the transplants. Instead, the wind sprayed the drops like mist over the fragile blooms.
Once inside again, they stood dripping onto the kitchen floor.
Gavin swore. “That rain is not gentle or warm. I think a few more minutes out there and we’d be missing skin. Damn storm.”
“No kidding.” She started to shiver.
“Wait here.” He hustled away and came back with towels and a robe. “I raided the downstairs guest room, where Hope’s staying. This place is better than the Ritz. Leave your muddy shoes here. You can change in the guest room around the corner.” He pointed past the kitchen toward the main hall.
She left and returned, clad only in the fluffy blue robe. She refused to feel self-conscious, because the wet cold of undergarments had been like torture. Especially in contrast to the soft warmth of the robe.
She found Gavin in the kitchen in nothing but jeans, towel-drying his hair. Droplets graced his muscular shoulders and biceps. A dusting of hair covered his firm chest and ran down his corded abs.
Holy mother of…She pretended to yawn to cover her gaping mouth.
He froze when he saw her. “Blue’s your color.”
“Tan is yours,” she quipped, earning a grin.
