Page 12 of Noble Neighbor
And now he was getting hard just thinking about a naked Sunny Jones.
What was it about the woman that just …gotto him?
It’s been years, Oliver. Maybe it’s time to move on.
He jumped from the wooden deck and stalked down the path.
What itwastime for, was his run.
Halfway along, Oliver realized the mistake of his hasty action. He’d set out without liquid. And it was July and the middle of the day. And his cellphone was sitting on his desk, charging.
“Right,” he gasped, hands to knees, head down. “Choices. Continue your route and collapse from heatstroke far from help; or cut through the farm and collapse from heatstroke on Sunny’s doorstep.”
He only had one choice.
Oliver was weaving by the time he reached the mowed grass surrounding her house. Why were enormous flags flying about? Sunny didn’t have flags. He stumbled closer. No. Not flags. Sheets.
Who on earth hung sheets on a line to dry these days? His vision greyed, and Oliver grabbed hold of the nearest object to prevent himself from falling. It gave way, and he hit the ground.
*
“Damn. The wash line’s collapsed,” Sunny muttered, placing her sandwich down.
“You said a bad word, Mommy,” Molly sing-songed.
Sunny slid from the seat and faced the two grinning faces. “You would too, kiddo, if your hard work were lying on the ground getting dirty. Fetch the laundry baskets, girls, and come help Mommy fold. Let’s see what we can salvage.”
She glanced back outside, blinked, and looked again. The sheet was … moving? The cotton moved again, and a head appeared. Was that …?
Yes. ItwasOliver and, mouth gaping, Sunny watched him stagger to his feet and beat off the shroud. He weaved, stumbled, before collapsing to his hands and knees.
Sunny raced out the door and down the steps, skidding to a stop beside him. “Oliver?”
She crouched, placing a hand on his shoulder, raking her gaze over him.
He was wet. Soaked, in fact.
Reasons for his state crowded her mind. Snakebite. Heart attack. Stroke—
Wait a second. His attire clicked. Running gear. Had the man beenrunning? In this heat?
“Mommy,” Kenzie whispered beside her, “what’s wrong with Mr. Oliver?”
“Water,” he croaked, head hanging down.
He was severely dehydrated, and a litany of words teased the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Reprimanding him could wait. “Kenz, run to the fridge and get a pack of water. Quick as you can, honey.”
Kenzie raced off, and Molly moved nearer.
“Is Mr. Oliver going to be okay?”
“Yes, baby. Remember that day when you played in the park and didn’t drink enough water and your head hurt?”
“Did Mr. Oliver forget to drink his water?”
“Something like that. Molly, fetch my cellphone, hon. And two towels. Those big ones Mommy folded earlier. Go. Hurry.”
Sunny turned her attention back to the idiotic man. “I need to get you up. There’s shade a few feet away. Lift your arm, and I’ll squat under and push up. Okay?”
