Once Bitten Twice Shy
August Adams has an awful track record with love. She’s worked very hard to make herself emotionally unavailable. Her life consists of her art, her best friend, and a feral cat named Iris. Until the day Jack Murphy falls into her life. Literally.The new lawn man takes a tumble into the hole in her front yard — the very hole he’s there to deal with. This man with his big brown eyes, his muscled forearms, and his quick smile shakes up her safe little world from that very first encounter. Ready or not, here he is. Eager to love her and hoping to be loved in return. So it’s all up to August. But can she let go of her past and embrace her future? Or will she remain once bitten, twice shy?
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
Mischief
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An eBook Original 2015
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Copyright © Sommer Marsden
Sommer Marsden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Ebook Edition © 2015 ISBN: 9780008168803
Version: 2015-11-20
For Jim. You never felt the need to rescue me, but were always there when I was ready to rescue myself. I love you. For ever and ever. Amen.
Contents
August glanced out of the front window just in time to see him fall in. The new lawn man was tall and walking briskly one moment, his right knee deep in a hole the next. She unlocked the door, swearing softly, her heart beating a rapid rabbit kick in her chest.
‘Jesus!’ She knew she sounded terrified and somewhat crazy, but she couldn’t help it. Her first thought was to wonder, had he hurt himself? The next, a truly terrifying thought, would he sue her? She pushed it all out of her head as she dropped to her haunches and held out her hand to him. ‘Are you OK? Are you hurt?’
He took the offered hand, his much bigger and cooler than hers thanks to the chilly October temperature. She had a moment of near hysterical amusement when she saw her fingers smear yellow ochre paint over his wrist as he clasped them. She bit her lip and began to tug as he struggled to get himself on an even keel.
Then she froze. ‘Wait! Should we move you? Should you…um –’ she blew out a breath to try and get her mind to focus ‘– stay in the hole?’
His eyebrows shot up. Thick and dark-brown above even browner eyes. It made her laugh. All her hysterical worry, fear and bizarre amusement came bubbling up at once.
‘Why in the world would I stay in the hole?’ With that, he got his foot on the grass and stooped, hands on knees, to catch his breath. He looked up at her, his eyes bright in the stark autumn sunlight. ‘I think you’re thinking of a head injury. When you drop into a hole, protocol is to usually get out as soon as possible.’
More crazy laughter tried to escape and she pressed her hand against her lips to tame the urge to release it. ‘Sorry. I was just…worried. Are you OK?’
He nodded and finally stood up straight. He popped his back and she winced at the sound. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That’s from years of football, not the hole in the middle of your yard.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Jack Murphy. Your new lawn guy.’
She took it and shook, noticing the way his fingers felt pressed against her wrist. She noted nicks and scars on his flesh and thought they’d be wonderful to paint, those beat-up hands.
‘August. Adams. August Adams,’ she repeated, blinking against a sudden gust of wind. ‘I’m sorry about the hole. As you can see, I really do need a lawn guy. Or a hole guy.’
When the words registered she felt her embarrassment flame in her face. She was certain that two big swatches of red stood out on her cheeks as if she’d been slapped.
He chuckled at that, took off his cap and ran a hand through his unruly brown hair. ‘I’ll say. You must have had a tree here at one point.’
August nodded. ‘Pear tree.’
‘Ah, and let me guess, the wood went soft, it started dropping limbs and then you had to have it removed.’
‘We have a winner,’ she said. ‘It actually dropped a limb on my Jeep. So that’s when I had to bite the bullet and get someone to take it down. Before it killed someone. Or my Jeep.’
He smiled and it caught her off-guard. When he smiled the skin around his eyes crinkled and made his rugged face a bit softer, more boyish. The smile itself was broad and friendly and, as odd as the thought seemed, welcoming. ‘Well, you have to protect a good Jeep. I –’ He glanced down and August followed suit.
‘Oh, crap, you’re –’
He levelled that intense gaze at her and something sleepy and slow rolled over in her chest. It was an unusual but peaceful feeling. She refused to acknowledge it. It helped when he said, ‘I know it’s very unprofessional of me to ask to use your bathroom but I appear to be –’
