She stepped up into the cab, which was a bit of a climb, and closed the door. “Right on time. Let’s go find this man.”
He put the truck in Reverse and pulled out onto the road. The cab smelled faintly of cut grass and gasoline, but she didn’t find the scent offensive. Rather than having the air-conditioning on, he had his window down, allowing the warm breeze to flutter through the cab. He wore his usual work uniform—tee with a logo, cargo shorts, and boots—with a pair of sunglasses that made him seem even more enigmatic than usual.
Her hero would wear sunglasses the way her usual protagonist wore a cowboy hat. Pleased with that small detail, she turned to Sam. “So, you own a landscaping business.”
“It’s a family business.”
“You didn’t start it yourself then?”
“My dad did.”
“Right. That’s cool, working together and all. So I guess it’s something you must really enjoy doing then? Mowing grass and, uh, mulching and stuff?”
He spared her a look.
“Well, I mean, some parents push their children into the family business because they want them to carry it on or because they enjoy the idea of working together as a family—or so I hear.”
“I like it just fine.”
He liked it. Swell. “Do any other family members work in the business?”
“My cousin and my mom.”
“The cousin whose wedding we’re attending?”
A slight pause. “Yes.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“A sister.”
“There’s no ration on words, you know. You can use as many as you like. For free even. So... how old is your sister? And what does she do if she’s not working in the family business?”
“She’s seventeen and she does school.”
A whole sentence. That was okay. She could carry a conversation quite well. Otherwise it would be a long twenty-five-minute ride. Also, there was that research.
“That’s quite an age gap. You must be... what, thirty-four, thirty-five?”
“Thirty-one.”
Whoops. “The beard makes you seem more mature, I think. And since you didn’t ask, I’m twenty-six and an only child and I live in Queens, but I’m originally from Scranton, Pennsylvania. I’m just on the island for the summer. I’m an elementary school art teacher, and I chose that field because I love kids and never want to stop coloring. Also, I love the expression a child gets when she creates something from the heart. I’m a firm believer that anyone can make art, and there’s no such thing as a mess-up.”
He only grunted, so she continued. “I also write novels on the side—that’s a fairly new development but a lifelong dream. My grandpa was the illustrious novelist Rex Goodwin, so I’m trying to carry on the family legacy. Plus I always thought it would be nice to teach kiddos during the school year and write novels during the summer. So that’s what I’m doing. Or trying to do. Westerns are my preferred genre, but—”
“Westerns?”
He speaks.She glanced at him. “Yeah, you know, Louis L’Amour, Zane Grey...Rex Goodwin?”
“I know, I just... westerns, huh?”
“I know, most people are surprised by that. But my grandpa had a horse ranch in northern Pennsylvania, and I spent a lot of time there when I was growing up. I loved the way he and my grandma lived off the land. I helped my grandma with the garden. I loved the horses, not to mention the foals. When we weren’t working on the ranch, Grandpa and I used to watch westerns together—Stagecoach, Red River, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid—so many good ones.” He’d been such an influence. Her only regret was that he’d passed before she’d gotten her first contract. But at least he hadn’t seen the failure of her first novels.
“I didn’t realize they were still publishing westerns.”
She snorted. “They’re not. Or not hardly anyway, which is why my first two novels sold about three copies each—too bad I don’t have a bigger family, huh? So my publishing contract was canceled—midseries—and I’d already written and turned in my third book. Brutal. They did invite me to try my hand at a romance novel, though, so that’s my summer project. And when my best friend, Caroline, suggested I write it at her mom’s beach cottage, I could hardly refuse. So that’s enough about me. How’d you end up at the beach house?”
“Maybe I live there.”
