Kristine Rolofson - The Husband Project

“Down!” echoed little Tony, holding Lucia’s hand as he bounced up and down like his older brother. “Down, down, down!”

“Shh,” Lucia said. “All of you, be quiet and let me find out who he is.”

She knelt over the stranger in the snow, looked into pain-filled blue eyes and saw a very angry, very unfamiliar, very handsome man. He didn’t seem dangerous. Just intensely aggravated and somewhat humiliated, the way men get when they’re not in control. “Can you tell me who you are? Are you hurt? We’re going to call for help.”

“Don’t. Need. Help. Ribs,” he rasped. “Cracked.”

She turned to her son. “You broke his ribs?”

Davey stared at her, his eyes large. “Not on purpose. He was stealing our wood,” he whispered. “No one steals wood. Except bad people.”

“Not. Stealing.” The man moaned. “Renting. House.”

“From Jerry? Claire’s house?”

“Kelly,” he said. “The woman who died.” He tried to take another breath, but winced. “Purple.”

Kim muttered, thumbs once again punching her phone. “How do you spell delirious?”

Lucia ignored the question and focused again on the man. There was no blood, no obvious broken bones, but that didn’t mean he was okay. “I think you need to go to the hospital.”

He struggled to sit up. “I just...got out of one. So, no. The answer...is no.”

“You might want to think about it,” she said. “You look a little out of it.”

“Long...day,” he said.

“Okay,” she told him, deciding to save the discussion for later, after they were all out of the snow. “Just hold on for a sec and I’ll get you back inside before we all freeze to death out here.” She straightened and faced her boys. “Davey, take your brothers home. Now.”

“But—”

“Now.”

He knew she meant it, so he reached for Tony’s hand and led him across the snow-covered yard. Her youngest child continued to bounce despite the snow that should have slowed him down.

Matty hesitated. “Can I stay?”

“No, sweetheart. Your ears are cold. Go on, and call Boo with you.”

The dog had planted his rear end in the snow and had taken it upon himself to guard the new neighbor, someone he obviously saw as a potential threat to his temporary family. He’d been staying with Lucia while Owen, the future bridegroom, was out of town. It was like having another child, Lucia thought, watching the dog’s ears flick when he heard his name.

“Boo,” Lucia said. “Go with the kids.”

The dog looked disappointed. He may have even sighed. But he stood and shook off the snow before trotting obediently after Matt.

“We’re gonna have cookies,” the boy promised. “A whole lot of ’em, and they have red sprinkles on top. Green, too.”

Boo knew what cookies were. He wagged his tail a couple of times and broke into a run, racing Matty to the back door.

“Can you stand?”

“Eventually.”

She turned to her teenaged babysitter. “You get on one side, I’ll get on the other.”

She looked back down at the man. He was about forty, broad-shouldered—and more than a little handsome, she noted anew. “So you’re renting Mrs. Kelly’s house?”

“Yeah.” He managed to nod as he lifted himself up on one elbow. “Get me up. The wood stove,” he panted. “Needs wood.”

“Sure.” She motioned to Kim to help her. Together they managed to hoist the man to his feet. Split logs lay in the snow at their feet, and Lucia bent to collect them, until she realized he couldn’t walk without help. She’d come back for the logs later.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said, dusting snow off the front of his jacket. “Put your arm around me. You don’t want to fall again.”

“I didn’t...want to fall the first time.”

At least he was breathing a little more normally. He was taller than she’d thought, at least a foot taller than her. His close-cropped dark hair was flecked with gray and wet with snow, which also clung to the front of his jeans. He shivered and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I can help—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted, but he sounded more tired than angry now. “I can walk. What I can’t do is...fend off little boys...and a dog. In a foot of snow.”

He tromped carefully toward Mrs. Kelly’s back door, Lucia and Kim following him until Lucia told Kim to go back to the kids. “I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“No hurry. I’m gonna go put the pics on Facebook.”

Wonderful. “My mother-in-law will phone me as soon as you do, so tell her I’ll call her back after I defrost the neighbor.”

“Cool.”

She followed the nonrobber into his house, where he made it clear she wasn’t welcome. He sank onto one of the two kitchen chairs and stared at his wet boots. Lucia paused inside the door and kicked her suede boots off. She walked gingerly around the little mounds of snow the stranger had tracked in and turned up the thermostat on the wall next to the refrigerator. “It’s cold in here. You were trying to get a fire going?”

“I wasn’t stealing wood.” He gestured out the window to the shed.

“Of course you were. You just didn’t know,” she said, hoping to comfort him.

“That’s not my shed?”

“Nope.”

He sighed, a deep heartfelt sound that was almost comical.

“I can see where you’d think it was,” she offered cheerfully. “The yards kinda blend. I’m going to build a fire so you have a little more heat in here. Go take a shower. Can you manage that? You need to warm up.”

“I don’t know you. I’m Sam Hove.”

“I’m Lucia Swallow. Your next-door neighbor. Your—”

“The pie lady?”

“Yes.”

“You smell like rum, your kids run wild and your dog attacked me.”

He looked so disappointed. Obviously she was not what he’d expected. If she hadn’t been so amused, her feelings would have been hurt.

“I smell like rum because I was at a bridal shower and there was punch. A really delicious punch.” She didn’t explain that she’d spilled some on herself while washing the punch bowl, or that she’d been too tired to have more than a token sip during the toast to Meg’s marital bliss. “My kids are boys. I try not to let them run wild, but they do...run. And the dog? Is not mine, but he’s not wild, either. I’m dog sitting for the groom.”

“Groom?”

“Who’s marrying the woman whose bridal shower it was, but he’s out of town. Now, go take a shower and I’ll make a fire.” She didn’t say she’d return with some lasagna and garlic bread leftover from last night’s dinner. He looked as though he could use something to eat.

“I can’t,” he said after a long moment.

“Why not?” She was as patient as she’d be with little Tony, who often stared at his feet and said “I can’t” in a pitiful voice.

“I can’t get my boots off.” He smiled, the barest of smiles on his tanned face. Her heart did a tiny—very tiny—flip.

“Ah, those cracked ribs.” She drew a chair up opposite him. “Come on, give me your foot.”

He hesitated, eyeing her as if she might be playing a joke on him.

“I’m a mother,” she said. “I do this kind of thing all the time.”

“Not to me,” he muttered, but raised his leg and rested the heel on her leg. In a matter of seconds she’d untied the snow-drenched knot, released the frozen laces and pulled his new boot off. She did the same for the other boot. “You were going to wear these until your ribs healed?”

“I didn’t think that part through.”

“Obviously.” She held the boots by two fingers. “I’ll put these by the stove so they’ll dry out.”

“You don’t—”