Page 6 of No Bed Of Roses

At least she’d taken photos and made sketches in her notebook of every attempt. If they could classify as sketches. She’d finally figured out that she needed to number the windows and then make a list of the numbers with their dimensions.

But she didn’t know how to make them fit without leaving huge gaps, which kind of defeated the purpose of a greenhouse.

She probably should have asked Aisling and Graham to stay, but she’d already used enough of their time on a project that was supposed to be hers.

They were Tansy’s friends, which meant she could trust them completely, but Isla’s ability to trust was running a little low. Actually, her ability to people was running low too.

Probably best to ditch the plans for the day. She’d been running on empty for too long and this task required more brainpower than she had available. She needed a task she knew she could accomplish. Something that would help her build back her confidence.

Planting seedlings to start indoors, tilling the vegetable garden, checking out the barn. Those she could handle.

Isla shoved her phone in one pocket of her overalls and stood, brushing off her butt. It was late afternoon, and checking out the barn sounded the most enticing.

“I know I’m a newcomer, but I’m pretty sure Vermont doesn’t have the right climate for growing windows.”

Isla whirled at the deep male voice behind her. Rough, growly, sexy. Unfamiliar. She pulled her phone back out and opened it to the call app. She wasn’t sure if Phail had 911 service, but she would call Tansy for help if needed.

A tall man with shoulders broad enough to block out the barn behind him stood looking at her work. He leaned easily against the fence separating the properties. His eyes roamed over the windows and doors she’d spread over her section and then back to her. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes held amusement and curiosity. No evil intent she could identify.

The man could model for GQ. Strong body. Sun-kissed skin and hair peeking out from a worn cowboy hat. Small sardonic smile. And a sexy dimple. As if he needed that to be attractive. Kind of like a dream man had walked out of her fantasies and into her life.

Man, she needed more sleep.

Between her cousin Glen and that idiot Ed at the lab, Isla’s, ‘is he a creep?’ senses were pretty finely tuned. This guy didn’t set off any alarms. He wasn’t leering, and his expression was open.

He didn’t rush her to answer and he pretty much exuded steadiness. Or maybe her hormones had taken over her brain.

She glanced back at her windows and doors, spread all over the ground. With a shrug, she turned back to the stranger. “Definitely not the growing zone for glass, but I was hoping to conjure up a greenhouse.”

That small smile kicked up into a big grin that fully reached his eyes. “Now we’re talking. That’s a whole different story. How’s it going?”

As if that wasn’t obvious from the scatter around her. “Not well. Starting to think I should stick with my wheat strains and regular vegetables. Maybe petunias.”

“Kind of takes the fun out of it, though.”

She found herself grinning back. “Kinda does. I’m thinking if I leave them here for a day or two, they might proliferate on their own for me.”

“Like bunnies?”

Isla laughed. “Exactly like that.”

He chuckled, and, for a moment, they both stared at the mess. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “What’s the plan?”

She shrugged again. “At the moment, the word plan is far too big a word for what I’ve got. I think I’ll leave it until my brain is more rested and these guys have a chance to acclimate to the farm. Then I’ll tackle it again tomorrow.”

He chuckled. The man had a really good chuckle. Zings of awareness rushed over her skin and through her blood.

The sun was dipping toward the horizon, and for a few minutes, they simply stood, breathing in the peace and the beauty of the land around them.

After a bit, the man touched a finger to his cowboy hat and pushed off the fence. “See you around, Glass Farmer.”

She smiled as she watched him walk away. The rear view was as intoxicating as the front. His easy pace and long-legged stride covered the ground at a surprising speed. Instead of heading toward the barn or the farmhouse, he headed to the fields, walking his land.

He’d said he was new to the area, but he wasn’t new to farming. Everything about him screamed confidence and control.

The sun was kissing the horizon when Isla dragged her gaze away and back to her windows.

Glass Farmer.

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