Heather Webber - Digging Up Trouble

For my family,

who ply me with plenty of story ideas . . .

and hugs.

A great combination.

All my love.

Contents

One

Thou, Nina Colette Ceceri Quinn, shall not hire any more…

1

Two

I set the design board for the Lockharts’

yard on…

11

Three

White-knuckled, Tam clenched the steering wheel. “He’s fine. Just fine.…

19

Four

I’d barely slept at all last night between worrying about…

31

Five

Kit immediately handed me BeBe’s leash and started CPR. I…

43

Six

An hour later I stood staring at the mess in…

50

Seven

I finally headed back to the office around six. It…

58

Eight

I parked down the block. I told myself it was…

68

Nine

I resisted temptation to head to the hospital to visit…

78

Ten

“Do you want to have kids?”…

83

Eleven

“Why not marry him?” Ana asked as she drove I-75 south,…

93

Twelve

Hairy-chested Alan snatched my wig back, set it on my…

103

Thirteen

I was afraid to go home, but since I didn’t…

111

Fourteen

I searched for a parking spot near the Sandruzzis’ house…

124

Fifteen

Growl had been in business for about a year now,…

134

Sixteen

The Magic Sun Chinese Buffet had the best egg rolls…

142

Seventeen

The chimes sang as I pulled open the TBS door,…

149

Eighteen

I’d been told not to go anywhere by the baby-faced… 158

Nineteen

By four-fifteen I was in a seriously bad mood.

165

Twenty

“You can stop saying sorry,” Riley said, climbing into my…

176

Twenty-One

Tuesday morning I sat at my desk, trying to massage… 183

Twenty-Two

Dale didn’t look happy to see me. I didn’t take…

192

Twenty-Three

By Wednesday afternoon I hadn’t heard from Tam. I’d left…

200

Twenty-Four

It was one of those hot muggy July days that… 212

Twenty-Five

I looked up from the hummingbird garden plans on my…

225

Twenty-Six

I drove around until I finally found myself parked in…

233

Take Your Garden by Surprise

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Romances

Cover

Copyright

About the Publisher

One

Thou, Nina Colette Ceceri Quinn, shall not hire any more unreliable ex-cons.

Not an easy commandment, to say the least, since I really couldn’t tell who was reliable and who wasn’t until they started working for me.

I frowned. Talk about a Catch-22.

The trick was weeding out the good from the bad. As I looked around my office conference room, I realized I’d certainly found a few good ones in Kit Pipe, Deanna Parks, Marty Johnson, and Coby Fowler. And of course Tam Oliver, who sat in her throne chair in the reception area pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping.

My business, Taken by Surprise, Garden Designs, had thrived over the last few years because of their hard work.

And getting any specialized landscaping business to thrive in this day and age was notable, but here in small-town Freedom, Ohio, it was a miracle. This was middle-class country, the heart of the Midwest, and I charged upper-class prices for my day-in, day-out yard makeovers.

It was the bad experiences with my rap-sheeted workers that made me question my hiring practices. Currently, one worker in particular.

2

Heather Webber

“So, no one’s seen him?” I asked, looking down the long rectangular table. It was littered with soda cans, coffee cups, and the sad remains of two dozen Krispy Kremes.

“Not since he left yesterday afternoon.” Deanna twirled a pencil like a baton. “Said he had an appointment he couldn’t miss. And he was all dolled up too. I smelled him coming through a closed door.”

The “he” in question was Jean-Claude Reaux, who tended to wear too much cologne, and who was currently MIA.

He’d worked for me three years.

He’d started out as a laborer, but I soon noticed he had an uncanny instinct for finding unique items and fabrics to go with my designs. He still did labor—we all did—but now he had a lot more input on these design meetings.

Like the one we were in now.

Like the one he hadn’t shown up for.

“We can’t wait much longer,” Kit put in. Kit was my right-hand man.

I found myself staring at him. Not because he was six-foot-five, 250 pounds. Or that his eyes had been tattooed with dark liner sometime in the late eighties. It was because I couldn’t get used to the sight of him with hair.

Hair, of all things.

This from a man who practically spit-shined the skull tattoo on his bald head. The tattoo now covered with downy soft-looking brown fuzz.

“Stop staring,” he said.

“I can’t help it.”

He growled. “Try.”

“I kind of like it,” Deanna said.

Lord, was she blushing? I groaned. I didn’t need Deanna having a crush on Kit. Interoffice romances were somewhat prohibited (I’d been known to bend the rules), but that wasn’t why. It was because I really didn’t want to see anything Digging Up Trouble

3

happen to Deanna—Kit’s live-in girlfriend, Daisy, was the jealous type.

Or so I’d heard. No one had ever seen her. Not even once.

Which certainly piqued my nosiness.

“Me too,” Coby singsonged, and batted his eyelashes.

Kit’s eyes narrowed. In a dangerous whisper he said, “See what you did?”

“Me?” I asked. “What did I do?”

“You stared.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. Sue me.” At Kit’s growl, I rushed on. “So, where were we?”

“Staring.” Deanna’s cheeks were still rosy.

Kit crushed a Mountain Dew can.

I ignored him and riffled through the papers in the file in front of me. “No, before that.”

“Jean-Claude,” Marty supplied, reaching for another Krispy Kreme.

“Oh yeah.”

“This isn’t the first time he’s been a no-show,” Kit reminded.

No, it wasn’t. So far this month, Jean-Claude had come in late twice and hadn’t bothered to show at all three times.

Four if you counted today.

Not a good track record. Especially considering we were only two weeks into July.

Any sane boss would fire him.

Unfortunately, I’d come to recognize in my twenty-nine years that I leaned to the right side of normal.

“No one knows what he’s up to?” I asked, looking for some explanation. “Marty?”

“Me?” he mumbled over a mouth full of glazed doughnut.

The phone rang in the front room, and I heard Tam answer it. Maybe it was Jean-Claude? Calling in? With a doozy of an excuse?

4

Heather Webber

Because if he didn’t have a doozy of an excuse, I really would have to fire him.

Sooner or later.

Sooner probably if Kit’s glare was any indication.

Inwardly I groaned. I hated firing people.

Tam stuck her head in the door. “Nina?”

I looked up, hopeful. “Is that Jean-Claude?”

She shook her head, her tight curls not budging. “No. It’s Lindsey Lockhart. She said she’s running late and won’t be able to make it until ten. Is that okay?”

My hands immediately turned damp. “Yeah. That’s fine.