The Sweetest Gift

“Yes, but it’s not my fault. It’s genetic. I tried a support group for a while, but it cut into my work time.”

“I suppose it’s a competitive, stressful calling, being a plumber. Nighttime leaking pipes, early-morning bathtub backups and emergency pipe unclogging.”

“Are you mocking me?” That seemed to make those troublesome glints in his eyes shine more brightly. “Sure, go ahead and make me angry. I may have to go let off steam. Did I mention I play drums? Yep. I plan to set up in the garage. Will that bother you at night?”

He flashed her a grin before padding soundlessly away. He moved like a well-trained athlete, like a man comfortable with his power. Not married, huh?

She was a woman. She couldn’t help noticing the wide, capable cut of his shoulders beneath the plain gray T-shirt. Or his long legs encased in denim as he disappeared around the corner of her house.

Not that she was interested. She wanted a nice Christian man. He looked like anything but.

“Best get the tea steeping, because I’m a fast worker,” he called from the side yard, out of sight.

The side gate of the fence squealed open and then snapped shut.

He might not be Mr. Right, but he was funny. Heroes in the movies weren’t this good-looking.

Her dog started barking an enthusiastic greeting through the door. Kirby banned all thoughts of Sam Gardner from her head and turned the old brass knob.

The instant she opened the door, the little spaniel leaped at her knees, panting happily. Kirby knelt to hug the wiggling creature. There was nothing like being welcomed home. And until she had a family of her own, she was blessed with this little animal that was always so glad to see her.

“C’mon, Jessie. Let’s get you outside.” Kirby’s problems felt far away as she set down her purse and followed her best friend through the house. The little blond dog, nothing but fluff, curls and long ears, dashed ahead, leading the way.

“Did you have a good day guarding the house?” Kirby talked to fill the silence that was broken only by the occasional creak of the wood floorboards and the tap of her heels. “I know, it’s a tough job, but you did well. Yes, you did.”

The dog panted happily, already at the back door, sitting politely and gazing at the doorknob.

There he was! Sam Gardner. Kirby froze at the sight of him, then took one step back away from the window. Staying out of his sight, she watched him through the sun-streaked glass. Looking like a rodeo hero, he slung the coiled green hose into the air like a lasso. It unfurled as it sailed over the top of the fence and into his backyard.

Sam Gardner met only one of her criteria. He was attractive. She watched his toned muscles ripple beneath his T-shirt as he adjusted the hose over the top of the board fence and stalked out of sight.

Too bad. She’d be willing to settle for him if he met even one more of her criteria.

A second later, she could hear the sound of water running. “What do you think, Jess?”

The dog didn’t bother to bark. She looked at the doorknob expectantly.

“Some watchdog you are. You’re too friendly. You didn’t even snarl when he was in the backyard.”

The dog gazed up at her happily, long silky ears flopping, pink tongue lolling.

“I know, you’re a fierce one.” Kirby patted the dog’s soft round head, laughing because she couldn’t imagine her sweet-hearted dog hurting anyone.

She couldn’t imagine Sam Gardner running from anyone or anything. He had that tough, dangerous look about him. The one that made a girl’s pulse skyrocket. Even an average and ordinary girl like her.

There he was again. She could see him on the other side of the fence, in his yard, tugging the hose in a competent, expert way that said he could handle anything. Shocks of dark hair tumbled over his brow as he worked, and the sunshine flitted over him like grace.

He’s probably not a Christian, not nice, not considerate and hardworking, she told herself, as if that were any consolation. Except that didn’t ring true.

The dog scratched at the door.

Had she drifted off again? Yep, she was always doing that. Kirby turned the knob and opened the door. Maybe she’d go out with the dog and make sure Sam had shut the side gate. He didn’t look like the responsible type—

A shadow leaped toward her. Big. Dark. Threatening. She fell back against the door, from calm to terrified in a millisecond. She tried to scream.

Couldn’t.

The shadow became an enormous dog hurtling toward her. Its powerful jaw opened to reveal enormous sharp teeth. He leaped through the open door and planted his huge muddy paws on her shoulders. Bright, happy brown eyes smiled at her. A wide, wet tongue swiped across her chin in a friendly hello.

“I guess you’re not too dangerous.” Kirby wiped her face with her sleeve. “Down.”

Pleased with himself, the dog dropped to all fours, glad to sniff noses with the little blond spaniel dancing around him in greeting.

That was one enormous dog. He was at least midthigh high, with a neat short black-and-brown coat. He paraded into her kitchen as if he owned it.

I bet I know who owns him. Kirby thought of that rugged, all-too-confident man next door. The one who mentioned the boards down in their mutual fence. A dog owner would be concerned about a damaged fence.

There was a resemblance between the man and his canine. The dog sauntered over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the biscuit box off the edge of it. As if he had great practice at doing this very same thing many times before, he upended the box onto the floor and little bone-shaped treats scattered everywhere.

Her little spaniel sat politely eating only one treat, but the bold dog attacked the pile of biscuits as if he’d been starved for days.

“Yep, you belong to Sam Gardner. No doubt about that.” Kirby knelt to retrieve what she could of the scattered biscuits. The dog only ate faster, sucking up as many treats as his mouth could hold. “You are a bad dog. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t seem the slightest bit repentant.

“It’s probably not your fault. Look at your owner. You can’t help it.” She put the box on top of the refrigerator, far out of reach. She patted her little dog and gave her another biscuit for being so polite.

“No more for you, buster.” Kirby told the intruder. “C’mon, we’re taking you back where you belong.”

The dog looked appalled as she snapped a bright pink leash to his chain collar, but he went with her willingly. He was a very good-natured dog. The spaniel followed them to the door, whining when it was clear she had to stay behind.

“Sorry, Jessie.” When Sam’s dog lunged off the front steps, dragging her with him, Kirby thought he must have been an obedience-school dropout.

“Just like your owner, aren’t you?” She coiled the leash when she caught up with him, holding him firmly. “You are good-looking. I bet all the girls tell you that.”

As if in complete agreement, the dog hauled her around the hedge, obviously too self-confident for his own good.

Just like his owner.

The phone was ringing loud and clear through the window he’d left open to air out the kitchen. Sam dumped the end of the garden hose and crashed through the old screen door. He caught the receiver on the fourth ring. “Yeah?”

“Oh, I was about ready to hang up.” Aunt Ruth’s chipper voice singsonged in his ear. “I thought maybe you gave me a number that wasn’t hooked up yet. But I should have known the go-getter you are would have your telephone in already.”

“It was tough work to dial the phone company. Nearly took all my energy. Now I’m too weak to fix the plumbing.”

A warm chuckle rang on the other end of the line. “Oh, you can always make me laugh, boy.”

“A man does what he can.” Warmth seeped into the center of his chest. He loved his aunt, who’d been a second mother to him and had written him faithfully every week when he’d been in the military. And during the tough times afterward.