The Sweetest Gift. Jillian Hart
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but love was tenuous. And he’d believed in love—his mother’s, his wife’s—and seen how easy it was for love to crumble away into hatred.
The bent screw gave and the broken cabinet door handle tumbled into his hand.
“Sounds like you’re hard at work.” Now the worry was there in Ruth’s voice. “The damage to the house isn’t too bad, is it?”
“Not too bad,” he said, because it was only the truth.
The damage wasn’t too bad at all. It was more than bad. It was appalling. The place was trashed. But it wouldn’t be by the time Ruth saw it. He’d fix everything damaged between the roof and the foundation first.
“Oh, I’m so relieved. The Realtor was simply exaggerating about the damages, then. I don’t know what I would do if I had to find the money to repair that house. It was fine enough to inherit a rental property, but it’s been nothing but trouble. Sam, you’re my saving grace in all this. I can’t tell you what it means to have you take care of this for me.”
“For you? You’re the one letting me buy this place. The real estate market around here is pretty tight.”
“Yes, but heaven knows the house has to be in good repair. And clean. I could hire my cleaning woman to come over. She’s quick as a whip and thorough, too.”
The place in Sam’s chest where a whole heart used to be felt constricted. His aunt was a good person, and there weren’t too many of those in this world. “Let’s hold off on a cleaning lady for a while, okay?” A long while. “I’d like to do a few more repairs and then paint the whole place.”
“Oh, of course. Maybe I’d best buy the paint. You go down to the hardware store and put it on my account.”
Although it was generous of Ruth, Sam figured that by the time he was done, he would have charged up an easy ten grand. “Why don’t you let me worry about that? I thought that was our agreement. I fix this up for sweat equity, right? I’ve got it under control.”
“Such a relief, such a dear boy. Say, have you met little Kirby McKaslin next door?”
The memory of his beautiful neighbor flashed through him like sunlight. She was as graceful, as soft and as perfect as the warm spring day. “Yep. I did happen to meet her. I had to go next door and borrow her hose.”
“She’s a cute girl, don’t you think? And as good as gold. Comes from a fine family—”
He knew where this was going. “Don’t even start.”
“Start what? I’m just telling you about your new neighbor. I want you to be friendly to her, since she’s a friend of the family.”
“Friendly? Is that all? I heard a scheme in your voice.”
“You heard no such thing.”
“Call it instinct, then.”
“Instinct? Why, that’s preposterous. I wouldn’t try to fix you up with a nice, pretty young woman—”
“Fix me up, huh?” At least he’d got her to admit it. Sharp, fire-hot pain scorched a sharp point through the center of him, all the way down to his soul. He knew she had no clue what she was doing to him. “I’ve asked you not to fix me up.”
Ruth’s sigh came across the line, not as a whisper of surrender but rather as a gathering of determination. “I know how you feel about women. You’re wrong, and you’re smart enough to figure that out one day. There are plenty of wonderful, kindhearted women in this world—good Christian girls—looking for a strong and decent man like you to love and cherish.”
His chest compressed. His lungs deflated. The pain left his eyes burning.
To love and cherish? No, he’d tried that once and he wouldn’t go there again. He refused to remember another nice Christian girl, the one he’d vowed before God to honor and love for the rest of his life. “Ruth, you’re killin’ me here.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”
“I have.” His throat seized up. If he didn’t stop his aunt from going down this path, he’d wind up one big, raw wound, open and bleeding. “I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop this. I can’t take it.”
“A big strong warrior like you?”
“I’m not a warrior anymore.” The sadness of that battered him, too.
“You’re a fine man, and I’m proud to call you my nephew.” Love shone in her words.
But it wasn’t strong enough to diminish his hopelessness. Or change his mind.
Ruth, protected and gentle hearted, didn’t know what he knew. He’d seen too much as a man, as a soldier, as a husband to believe there was any goodness at all in the world. Any goodness that lasted.
He reassured his aunt about the house so she wouldn’t worry, and ended the call before she could get another word in edgewise about Kirby McKaslin.
How did Ruth think that he’d just be able to trust anyone enough to love again? And why Kirby McKaslin? Her pretty face flickered back into his thoughts like a movie reel stuck on one vibrant, flawless frame, refusing to fade.
Why was he thinking about her? Picturing her in his mind as if he was interested? He wasn’t. A smart man would put all thoughts of her aside and keep his distance from her. Forever.
There was nothing else he could do. He had no heart left.
Since he was a smart man, he didn’t look out the window over the sink, which gave him a view of the side of her house. He blocked all images of her as he dropped the screwdriver into his tool belt and ambled out the door and into the welcome sunshine.
He’d finish replacing the valves in the basement, coil up the hose and return it.
Kirby McKaslin was nice enough. She was his neighbor. He’d have to see her time and again. The casual kind of run-ins that neighbors wound up having. He’d be nice to her, friendly, polite, neighborly.
But that was all.
With his game plan ready, Sam stretched the kinks out of his back. Where was his dog?
“Oh!” A woman’s gasp of surprise tore him out of his quick flash of panic.
What was Kirby McKaslin doing in his yard, glowing golden and dainty and heavenly, her hair rumpled and windblown? Then he looked down and realized she had a tight grip on a bright pink leash. The leash was attached to a powerful rottweiler. She bent to free the dog, and Leo bounded forward to run circles around Sam’s legs.
“Howdy, boy. What have you done now?” Sam knelt to stroke his hands down the dog’s broad back. It was the best choice, since that meant he didn’t have to look at Kirby.
It was his rotten luck that he couldn’t forget her entirely. Her feet were in his line of vision. Delicate feet to match the rest of her encased in trim leather loafers made of the softest-looking leather he’d ever seen. She was quality all the way—any man could see it.
Remember, be polite and neighborly. That was the plan. He refused to remember another delicate woman. See, with just that tiny thought, pain ripped through him, raw and jagged. A constant reminder of the biggest mistake of his life.
One he’d never make again.
Chapter Three
“Your dog must have found a space in the fence,” she said in that velvety-soft voice of hers. “It was no trouble figuring out who he belonged to.”
She was trying to make conversation. Whether she was just being polite or trying to start a relationship thing, Sam didn’t know. He couldn’t let himself care.
He stared hard at his dog. Leo glowed with happiness. He obviously liked Kirby. That