She shook her head as she scrubbed her fork clean and returned it to the drawer. Her eyes lifted to the window framing the bordering lot. Sure enough, J.P.’s truck was back, even though it was nearing sundown, the time of day when most people clocked out.
She couldn’t blame him. It had been intolerably hot all day long, so she understood why he wouldn’t want to work typical hours.
But she needed a break from the guy.
“You are not going to let him ruin another evening, Nora,” she affirmed in a self pep talk. “He doesn’t have the power to do that.”
The yoga mat was an easy find—right where she’d left it in her closet after the last time she’d used it. It had been over a year, but she remembered the basic poses like downward dog and the warrior. And really, all she wanted was to stretch a little and enjoy her bees and her flowers. Close her eyes and drink in summer through all her senses.
She slipped out of her overalls and into bike shorts and a fitted pink tank top, winding her wavy hair up into a loose bun at the crown of her head. With her mat tucked under one arm and a water bottle in hand, she slid her feet into the flip-flops by the back door and made her way toward her promised oasis.
It was the time of day when the sun gave off light rather than heat, and it painted the skies in a breathtaking watercolor of pastels in hues of orange and purple. The silhouetted Ridge spread out wide behind the yard and majestically carved into the sunset, a sight that would never get old.
Her surroundings appeared new with each blink, the kaleidoscope of colors twisting and changing as the sun slipped toward the jagged horizon.
Unrolling the mat with a flap, Nora lowered it to the ground covered in soft patches of clover.
“Excuse me, little guys,” she said to the few bees that buzzed out of her way. She was in their territory now and respected that. Respected them.
That was J.P.’s entire problem. He didn’t respect anyone, least of all a harmless little honeybee.
Nora took an open-mouthed breath and shut her eyes.
Already, the rigid pull of her shoulders slackened. She dropped down and sat cross-legged on the mat, moving her upturned hands to her knees, sinking into the stillness and gratitude surrounding her.
Chapter Eight
The woman’s scream was enough to curdle blood. J.P.’s had completely stopped pumping, his heart catching in his chest. Even Waylon stood at attention in a way J.P. had never seen him do before. The dog’s tail jutted out stick-straight and his front leg lifted in a hook, nose pointed in the direction of the jarring shriek.
It wasn’t like J.P. needed any help locating the sound. It had come from Nora’s property, loud and clear.
Grabbing the wrench he’d just used to twist the water valve, he jammed it into his tool belt and rushed toward the scream.
He’d utilize it as a makeshift weapon if necessary, though J.P. really hoped he didn’t have to. But he couldn’t fathom what else could elicit a chilling cry like that. It was one of a person in danger. In peril.
A shiver of panic scratched up his spine.
Then another shout, this of words J.P. couldn’t quite make out.
Waylon sprinted forward.
“You’vegotto be kidding me!” The voice was a warbled screech. “This can’t be happening!”
Slowing up near the split rail fence, J.P. waited a beat to let his thundering heart rate clear out of his ears. His chest heaved almost uncontrollably. “What’s going on?” he asked through broken breaths. “Are you okay?”
Standing on the other side of the fence, wearing workout clothes and an expression of utter shock, was Nora. A sopping, soaking wet Nora. Water dripped from clumps of hair down her face and shoulders in thick rivulets, puddling at her bare feet. She shook about in a move that mimicked Waylon after a bath.
“I don’t supposeyouhad anything to do with this?” she spat. She jammed an accusatory finger in the air toward him.
“How would I have any involvement in”—he waved his hand over the scene—“whatever is going on here?”
Her fingers flew to her hair to unwind it from her head and then she wrung the strands out between her hands. “Because I was over here, minding my own business and enjoying some yoga in the garden, when all of a sudden,whoosh! I’m caught in the middle of a sprinkler firing squad.”
Waylon shimmied under the lowest fence rail and jogged up to Nora. He lapped at her feet, but surprisingly, she didn’t shove him away. She actually patted him.
So she was an animal lover. Noted.
“How could I have anything to do with your faulty sprinkler system?” J.P. asked.
