Page 20 of Guarding My Love

“Then why are you doing it now?” she asked.

He took another cookie out. “Because you’re being nice.”

“And people aren’t normally nice to you?” she asked.

“Long story,” he said.

She wanted to say she had time, but she didn’t know him that well.

How many times had she thought someone was a great catch for the world to see and then in private they were a complete jerk?

But in private, Foster had been nothing but helpful and considerate to her. A stranger to him no less.

That said a lot.

“We all have long stories in our lives. So, the cookies are good?”

“Awesome,” he said. “Really. And thanks for the painter’s tape though you didn’t need to replace it.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” she said. “You helped me out.”

He nodded and finished chewing his cookie. “I don’t suppose Marco can have any?”

“No,” she said. “Don’t you know anything about dogs?”

“Nope,” he said. “Never had one. We moved too much as kids and too many mouths to feed on top of it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “It had to be hard. It’s just me and my sister, Amanda. Neither of us has a relationship with our parents though. See, one of those long stories.”

“Are you planting flowers today?” he asked.

“No,” she said. Which meant he did see her out there. “Weeding. Or hoping it’s weeds I’m pulling. If not, then I’ll have empty beds.”

“Most of the perennials around here have come up for the spring.”

“You know flowers too? Is there anything you don’t know?”

He snorted and reached for a third cookie. That had to be good if he was eating that many of them.

“My mother gardens. It was one of those things she did to find peace. Us boys did a lot of hauling for her when my father was deployed.”

“Oh, your father was in the service,” she said. “That’s the traveling part. Is he still?”

“He was killed when I was eleven,” he said.

“I’m so sorry. And you said there are eight of you. Are you the youngest?”

“No.” He seemed to hesitate. “I’m in the middle.”

He didn’t say anything else so she let it drop.

She got the feeling that her cookies might be loosening his tongue and he just caught himself.

“I’m the baby,” she said.

“You don’t look like one to me,” he said.

“Unfortunately, I’ve felt it or been treated like it too many times in life. Mostly my fault. No more though.”

---