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Now it felt like the right one.
The crabapple was just beginning to flower, pale blossoms opening along the branches, while the wisteria crept along the fence, its first clusters of blooms hanging in soft, lilac drapes. The air carried their faint, sweet scent.
The dogs lay sprawled on a blanket several feet away, bellies full, soaking up the last of the sun.
It was a very tranquil scene, yet nerves gnawed at her.
Ronan was coming over.
At her request.
She needed his help. He was the only person she knew who had been on the Voss property. So, she had swallowed her pride and called him.
Her pulse kicked up at the sound of his truck.
Maggie lifted her head, pushed to her feet, and sashayed to the top of the steps.
The engine cut.
Now all three dogs watched as he entered the yard, the gate snapping shut behind him. They all but tumbled down the steps, snuffing and snorting around his feet. He obliged, crouching to give them a thorough rubdown.
The attention sent them tearing around the garden, earning a chuckle from him. And a scowl from her.
Especially when her heart kicked harder when he straightened.
He stood at the bottom of the steps, his gaze drifting briefly across the deck before lifting to meet hers. His chin tipped up a fraction. “Felicity.”
She couldn’t quite place his tone — somewhere between reluctant and amused. And something else.
“Hi.” Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat and added, “Thanks for coming.” She stubbed out her cigarette, ignoring the sharp look he gave the ashtray with the other two stubs.
“Reckon it was important.”
“Yeah.” She got to her feet and moved toward the kitchen door. “Best I show you.”
“Decking looks good.”
“It is.”
She didn’t bother mentioning she knew he’d come by during construction. He’d made a point of looking right at her security camera.
Every time.
“Beer?” she offered.
“Am I gonna be here that long?”
“It’s possible.”
“Then yes, a beer will go down well.”
The faint scent of soap and something distinctly him drifted toward her. It did nothing to steady her nerves.
“You’ve cleared the clutter,” he remarked from the doorway, glancing from the kitchen into the sitting room.
She shrugged. It had taken time to shake the guilt of boxing up Galina’s knickknacks. “Got tired of dusting them.”
Handing him the beer, she walked down the hallway. “We’ll talk in my office.”
