Page 194 of Love Bites

“To talk about your house?” I needed clarification. Should I spend the next two days preparing notes? Or trying on skimpy dresses?He’s a client.

“I’d rather talk about you … and me … together.”

He’s a client!

Oh, what the hell. “Yes.”

* * *

Thursday,July 12th

“Where’s your shotgun?” I asked Old Man Harvey while climbing out of my Bronco.

Leaning against his porch rail, Harvey’s gold-toothed grin was coat hanger wide. “I save Bessie for bill collectors, bank presidents, and four-wheelers.”

Bessie?He’d named his shotgun after a cow? He was right; living out here alone all these years had warped him.

My sandals crunched on his gravel drive. The mid-morning sunshine had me squinting behind my sunglasses. There was something about being five thousand feet above sea level that made me feel like I could reach up and punch the sun.

The porch’s shade still held a trace of coolness, keeping me from shedding the short-sleeved sweater covering my sleeveless paisley dress. I took a step toward Harvey and stopped, cringing. “What’s that smell?”

Harvey checked the bottoms of his boots.

My eyes watered. “It’s like heated vinyl and spearmint.”

“Oh, that’s my new cologne.”

Noticing his greased-back hair under his weathered cowboy hat, I raised my brows. “You sprucing up for me now, Harvey?”

He hooted a little too loud for my self-esteem. Not very encouraging for a single mom midway through her thirties. “My cleaning lady came this morning. She’s quite a looker.”

I jumped on that like a hyena on fresh kill. “Who is she? Is she taking new clients?”

“I don’t think Margo has any time for new clients. She seemed pretty frazzled this morning. She vacuumed Red and then raced off and left her cell phone behind.”

Upon hearing his name, Red—Harvey’s fat, yellow dog—lifted his head from the porch long enough to sneeze.

I sighed. Margo again. I should’ve known. Hers was about the only cleaning company in the Hills. “Isn’t she married?”

“Who cares? I like to play the odds.”

I did, too, lately. I pulled Mona’s digital camera from my purse. “All right, Harvey. Let’s take some pictures.”

The inside of Harvey’s ranch-style house smelled like fresh-baked cookies. I moved from room to room, snapping shots for the website. Contrary to his own scruffy, crusty exterior, Harvey’s interior decorating skills were worthy of aGood Housekeepingspread. With leather furniture, butcher-block countertops, new bathroom fixtures, and a vase of fresh wildflowers on the maple, claw-foot table, I knew the house would show well.

The problem was Harvey’s Timbuktu address. I had a better chance of winning this year’s Ironman Triathlon than selling his place before Jane kicked me out on my hind end.

“You look like someone spanked your puppy,” Harvey said as I stuffed Mona’s camera back in my purse.

After searching his face to make sure that wasn’t some weird sexual innuendo, I gave him a cockeyed grin. “Sorry. I’m just having a run of bad luck lately.”

“Me, too. Fate must have brought us together.” Harvey grabbed my arm as I turned toward the door. “Where are you going so soon? I made molasses cookies and opened a bottle of Kahlúa.”

I really needed to hire Harvey a companion. Red, who’d managed to drag his sorry ass into the house and plop in front of his empty food dish, apparently wasn’t filling the role.

“I wish I could stay.” Warm molasses cookies would be the closest thing I’d had to an orgasm in two years. “But I have some appointments this afternoon.”

“It’s only ten.” He dragged me over to a barstool and shoved me onto it. “Have a seat.”

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