had a croquet set. If neither responded, she’d move to Plan B and rent the necessary equipment.
Beth was surprised when Shaye and Dune responded within minutes. Both would be in the neighborhood shortly and could drop off her recreational requests. Beth was relieved, clicked on REPLY, and thanked them.
She then called Ava Vonn and extended Rylan’s invitation to dinner. The woman gushed her acceptance and shared her relief at not being hired. She confided that Rylan would never date his employee. The woman planned to see him often—which was more information than Beth cared to hear.
She told Ava she would get back to her once the reservation was set. By the time their phone call ended, Beth had a knot in her stomach. Ava made her uncomfortable. She sounded possessive. And far too sure of herself.
The scent of peanut butter drifted in from the kitchen. Atlas woofed and trotted back to the stove. Beth had two phone calls yet to make—to the restaurant and the barber shop. She would get to them shortly. She didn’t want the dog treats to burn.
She shut down the computer, slipped on her discarded Keds, which were under the desk, and left her office.
Halo and Landon burst through the back door just as she was removing the biscuits from the oven. She set the hot tray on a wire rack to cool then looked at the men. Sweat dampened Landon’s brow. Leaves stuck to Halo’s T-shirt. They smelled like the outdoors—mowed grass and sunshine.
Rue and the dachshunds trailed in behind them.
“I could use a beer.” Landon removed his gloves and crossed to the refrigerator.
“Peanut butter cookies look good.” Halo popped a warm dog treat into his mouth before Beth could stop him.
Atlas grumbled loudly.
“What’s with him?” asked Halo.
“You, uh, ate one of his biscuits.”
Halo’s chewing slowed, but he didn’t spit out the treat. “Organic?”
“The ingredients won’t hurt you.”
Halo swallowed. “Not bad.” He broke a second treat in half to make sure it had fully cooled. “Here big guy,” he said, handing it to Atlas. The Dane took it.
“Cold one?” Landon asked Halo.
Halo nodded, and Land tossed him a BrewDog.
“Do you want a glass?” Beth offered.
“Bottle’s fine,” said Halo.
“We haven’t had lunch,” Landon said next. “Any chance of a sandwich?”
Beth looked up from feeding the dogs their treats. The tray of biscuits was almost gone. Atlas scarfed three treats for every one consumed by the other dogs.
The Dane went after Beth when he’d finished his snack. She was ready for him, dish towel in hand. She cleaned off his face before he could wipe his mouth on her cutoffs. Atlas wagged his tail.
She crossed to the refrigerator, nudging Landon aside. Rylan ate as healthy as his dogs, she noted. There were lots of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, along with a Ziploc of organic sliced chicken breast. She pursed her lips, debated what to fix the men. A quick look in the bread box, and she decided on eight-grain bagels with melted cheese.
“That’s it? One grilled cheese bagel and a pear?” Halo grunted when she passed him a plate. He sat next to Landon on a soda fountain stool at the kitchen island. His face was pinched as if he was starving to death. “I’m a growing boy, sweetheart.”
“I’ll feed you but I won’t fatten you up,” she said.
“I’d work better after two sandwiches,” Halo insisted
“One.” She stood firm. She had no idea how Rylan would react to her feeding his teammates or to their drinking his imported beer.
Halo was on his second. The guys tended to take over, whether they meant to or not.
The chiming of the doorbell sent Atlas scrambling. He beat Beth to the front door by the length of his tail. She looked through the glass. A pretty blonde with curly hair and rainbow-framed sunglasses stood on the porch. A rectangular wooden storage box labeled CROQUET was propped against her hip. Shaye Cates-Saunders had arrived.
Beth opened the door, and
Beth was surprised when Shaye and Dune responded within minutes. Both would be in the neighborhood shortly and could drop off her recreational requests. Beth was relieved, clicked on REPLY, and thanked them.
She then called Ava Vonn and extended Rylan’s invitation to dinner. The woman gushed her acceptance and shared her relief at not being hired. She confided that Rylan would never date his employee. The woman planned to see him often—which was more information than Beth cared to hear.
She told Ava she would get back to her once the reservation was set. By the time their phone call ended, Beth had a knot in her stomach. Ava made her uncomfortable. She sounded possessive. And far too sure of herself.
The scent of peanut butter drifted in from the kitchen. Atlas woofed and trotted back to the stove. Beth had two phone calls yet to make—to the restaurant and the barber shop. She would get to them shortly. She didn’t want the dog treats to burn.
She shut down the computer, slipped on her discarded Keds, which were under the desk, and left her office.
Halo and Landon burst through the back door just as she was removing the biscuits from the oven. She set the hot tray on a wire rack to cool then looked at the men. Sweat dampened Landon’s brow. Leaves stuck to Halo’s T-shirt. They smelled like the outdoors—mowed grass and sunshine.
Rue and the dachshunds trailed in behind them.
“I could use a beer.” Landon removed his gloves and crossed to the refrigerator.
“Peanut butter cookies look good.” Halo popped a warm dog treat into his mouth before Beth could stop him.
Atlas grumbled loudly.
“What’s with him?” asked Halo.
“You, uh, ate one of his biscuits.”
Halo’s chewing slowed, but he didn’t spit out the treat. “Organic?”
“The ingredients won’t hurt you.”
Halo swallowed. “Not bad.” He broke a second treat in half to make sure it had fully cooled. “Here big guy,” he said, handing it to Atlas. The Dane took it.
“Cold one?” Landon asked Halo.
Halo nodded, and Land tossed him a BrewDog.
“Do you want a glass?” Beth offered.
“Bottle’s fine,” said Halo.
“We haven’t had lunch,” Landon said next. “Any chance of a sandwich?”
Beth looked up from feeding the dogs their treats. The tray of biscuits was almost gone. Atlas scarfed three treats for every one consumed by the other dogs.
The Dane went after Beth when he’d finished his snack. She was ready for him, dish towel in hand. She cleaned off his face before he could wipe his mouth on her cutoffs. Atlas wagged his tail.
She crossed to the refrigerator, nudging Landon aside. Rylan ate as healthy as his dogs, she noted. There were lots of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, along with a Ziploc of organic sliced chicken breast. She pursed her lips, debated what to fix the men. A quick look in the bread box, and she decided on eight-grain bagels with melted cheese.
“That’s it? One grilled cheese bagel and a pear?” Halo grunted when she passed him a plate. He sat next to Landon on a soda fountain stool at the kitchen island. His face was pinched as if he was starving to death. “I’m a growing boy, sweetheart.”
“I’ll feed you but I won’t fatten you up,” she said.
“I’d work better after two sandwiches,” Halo insisted
“One.” She stood firm. She had no idea how Rylan would react to her feeding his teammates or to their drinking his imported beer.
Halo was on his second. The guys tended to take over, whether they meant to or not.
The chiming of the doorbell sent Atlas scrambling. He beat Beth to the front door by the length of his tail. She looked through the glass. A pretty blonde with curly hair and rainbow-framed sunglasses stood on the porch. A rectangular wooden storage box labeled CROQUET was propped against her hip. Shaye Cates-Saunders had arrived.
Beth opened the door, and
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