Inside his cozy kitchen once again, she gazed at trays of seedlings while he put on the coffee. When she felt his big, silent presence drawing near her again, she gave in to her curiosity. “Margaret and Duncan said you grow flowers,” she ventured

Jack stroked the bottom of a delicate leaf in one of the trays. It trembled above the forest of thin, delicate pale stems, as if floating there. “Yes. I’ve got some Aquilegia flavescens, and Delphinium exaltatum, and Dianthus barbatus coming in right now. I’m taking a load into Portland today.”

“What’s that in English?”

“Columbines, larkspurs, and sweet william,” he clarified.

She sneaked a quick peek at his somber profile. “Why do you use Latin names?”

“I like how specific it is. There are hundreds of subgroups for common flower names. Each one has its own totally different personality.”

“Wow,” she murmured, impressed.

He looked self-conscious. “I don’t mean to be a nerd. I got off on studying them when I was in the military. Nothing like staring at flowers when you’re sweating in the desert with sand rasping in every crack under your body armor.” He paused, and looked at her chest. “Like dreaming of water while you’re dying of thirst,” he finished.

He was standing so close, she could smell the loamy scent of plants and earth on him, although his hands smelled like lemon dish soap. “You’re, um, staring at my Eranthis hylematis, Jack,” she said. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” he said. “And it’s Eranthis hyemalis, not hylematis.”

Whoa. That hot, dangerous flirtatious energy was starting to stretch and twist between them, muscular and dangerous and unpredictable.

She had to distract them, before things got weird. “How’d you get into this business?” she asked.

“I like plants,” he said. “My uncle Freddie was into organic gardening when I was a kid. I studied plant biology on the Internet when I was in the service, and afterward, when I worked overseas.”

“In Afghanistan? On that task force with Duncan, right?”

“Right. I’ve done some landscaping work for the parks department in Portland and Vancouver, too. Ornamental horticulture, stuff like that. But I prefer to live out here. I’ve built up a good business. The land down by the river’s good for rare specialty stuff, and I know florists who are happy to buy local and get stock that’s days fresher than the flowers they fly in over the pole from Holland. I’ve got a refrigerated truck and a twelve-by-twelve walk-in cooler. I harvest and deliver them myself. Simple and direct. Works out well for everybody.”

“What an awesome way to make a living,” she said.

“It’s hard work,” he said. “But I like the flowers.” He turned his silver-gray gaze on her face, and she realized what his eyes reminded her of. They had the same glowing depths that she’d seen in the eyes of a timber wolf.

“Did you sleep well on the futon?” he asked.

“Yes, wonderfully. Thank you.”

The coffee began to gurgle. He went to the stove, leaving her free to normalize her breathing and get herself in hand.

The coffee tasted wonderful with Margaret’s cookies. Jack finished his cup, got up, and rinsed it briskly. “I’d better get going,” he said. “You going to be okay by yourself here, with no wheels?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ve got Edna. We’re set.”

“Help yourself to anything you might need, in my cupboards, or the fridge,” he said. “There’s the phone, as you see. Oh, and I called Dwayne Pritchett about your van. He’ll be coming over with his tractor as soon as it dries up, but he doesn’t want to risk it for a few days yet.”

“Great. I appreciate that,” she said. “Also, could you tell me how to find the hot springs? Maybe Edna and I will hike up and take a look.”

He spun around. “Hot springs?” His eyes had gone cold.

She shrank back, apprehensive. “Uh, Margaret said there were some natural hot springs upriver a couple of miles. Something wrong?”

He scowled down into the sink. “Shit.”

“What’s the matter?” Vivi demanded. “Are you pissed at me?”

“Not at you. I’m irritated with Margaret. We have an agreement to keep the springs secret. Nobody wants hikers trespassing on our land. Now Margaret decides to tell a stranger.”

“I’m hardly a trespassing hiker,” Vivi pointed out, insulted.

“No. But it’s not as if you’re a long-term resident, either.”

“Does that mean you’ll be kicking me out soon?” She sprang to her feet. “Please be clear about that, Kendrick. Before I start ordering furniture.”

“Don’t take it personally. Margaret should’ve discussed it with me, that’s all. And don’t call me Kendrick. It makes me feel like I’m back in boot camp. I’ll take you to the springs when I get back from Portland.”

Vivi counted to ten, lips pressed flat. “Please, don’t trouble yourself.” She wished she hadn’t asked. She could probably find it on her own. A couple of miles upriver. How hard could it be?

He read her mind, and fixed her with a stern glare. “Do not go without me,” he said forcefully. “The cliffs are dangerous, and the path is washed out.”

“Fine.” Vivi deposited her coffee cup in the sink.

“I’ll be back around four, if you want to go then,” he added.

“Like I said, don’t go to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I meant what I said about not going alone.”

“I heard you the first time.” She let his door slam shut.

Oh, ouch. She’d done it to herself again. Whenever she let down her guard, zing, pow, he insulted her again. The second she heard his truck pull out, she went downstairs and into Jack’s kitchen and dialed Nell’s new cell.

Her sister picked up promptly. “Hey, you. Everything okay?”

“Hey, yourself,” Vivi replied. “How’s Italy?”

“Amazing,” Nell replied. “We were just finishing up a late lunch. Fabulous, of course. So how’s the flower farm?”

“Hmmph.” Vivi recounted the debacle in the rain and mud, and Nell expressed the appropriate horrified sympathy.

“Anyway,” Vivi concluded. “Here I am, stuck like a bug on flypaper. But that, I kid you not, is the least of my problems.”

“Oh, really? What’s going on?” Nell prompted.

Vivi paused, suspicious of the cheerful curiosity in her sister’s voice. “Jack Kendrick is my problem, as I am sure you know.”

“Oh? In what sense?” Nell asked, all innocence.

“Nell, what exactly do you know about the guy?”

Nell hemmed and hawed. “Um, exactly what Duncan told you,” she said. “There’s a photograph on Duncan’s wall of Jack climbing a sheer rock face. So I knew he was big, with dark hair, nerves of steel, and lots of thick, sinewy muscle. But that’s about it.”

“He despises me,” Vivi announced. “He thinks I’m a piece of insignificant fluff. A rootless, brainless tattooed bimbo incapable of making commitments or seeing anything through to the end. And he hates my van.”

“Wow.” Nell sounded impressed. “That sounds deep, Viv. Fear of commitment issues, after one evening’s acquaintance?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Vivi wailed.

“I never said it was, honey,” Nell soothed. “What’s the place like?”

“Out of my wildest dreams,” Vivi admitted, staring out the window. “The place is covered with flowers. Edna’s having the time of her life chasing something across the field. I hope it’s not a skunk.”

“So? What’s the problem?”

“What do you mean, what’s the problem? I told you! The man doesn’t want me here! He thinks I’m trash! This is a big, big problem!”

“But the van is stuck, right?” Nell prodded.

“Yes, at least until—”

“Well, good, then.” Nell sounded satisfied.

“Good?” Vivi’s voice rose to a squawk. “What do you mean, good?”

“I mean that, at least until your fucking van gets unstuck, I, your sister, and Nancy, too, will be able to breathe easy and sleep at night because for once in your goddamn life, somebody is looking after you!”