Maxwells Smile

spring.
    Sam scanned the interior. No kids’ toys were stacked along the wall, which he thought odd. Most garages in family neighborhoods sported bikes and sports equipment at least.
    He stepped back out onto the driveway and, shielding his eyes from the sun, leaned back to check the shingles. Not a quality product, judging from the loss of pebbles, and the black streaks indicated mildew. Probably a combination of ice damage, excessive rain and years of inattention. He knew single women rarely thought of things like house maintenance, which was why he had so many as clients.
    “Sam!” a voice called from a screened second-floor window.
    “Oh, hey, Maxwell! Your mom home?” “She’s out back planting flowers. I’ll be down in a bit, but I’ve got some work to finish first.”
    “Sure thing, buddy.”
    The kid must work harder than an executive at a Fortune 500 company. Sam saluted Maxwell, then wandered around the side of the pink house, following the bright path of purple flowers to a concrete patio slab.
    A vision in a flowered skirt and soft pink top squatted before a bag of mulch, intently reading the instructions on the plastic bag. Sunlight fell on her flushed cheek and Sam’s fingers moved at his thighs, as if eager to touch the rosy softness. Wasn’t every day a classy woman like Rachel McHenry came into his life. Not that she was in his life. But he intended to enjoy the moment.
    He cleared his throat.
    Rachel stood quickly and, at the sight of him, patted her hair, which was tied back with a floaty pink scarf. “Oh, Sam. I almost forgot you were coming over today.”
    Really? Sam’s heart dropped. Ah well, so he’d get the estimate done, then head back to work and life as he knew it. He should have figured he’d never have a chance with a classy lady like Rachel McHenry.
    “Maxwell called out to me from his window. Does that kid ever not have homework?”
    “He’s actually working on the DVD project. And I believe you were the one who put that idea into his sponge of a brain.”
    Sam wasn’t sure if that was an accusation or just a statement, but he intended to tread lightly until he could figure out the lovely Miss McHenry. She was about the only lady in this neighborhood who had not flirted or plied her wiles with him.
    On the other hand, why hadn’t she?
    It was the shirt. He knew he should have gone with the stripes. At least his hair was combed and he smelled a trifle better than eau de sawdust.
    As if you have a chance in hell, buddy .
    “So you need some help with that?”
    She hefted the bag of mulch. “Cocoa mulch. It’s very light. I’m going to spread it around the patio. Smells great when the sun falls on it.”
    “Cocoa mulch? So it smells like…?”
    “Chocolate,” she said, with a sweet roll of her eyes, as if she were enjoying the treat right now. “Made from cocoa bean husks.”
    Man, he did love a woman who knew how to enjoy life’s treats. But spreading chocolate husks around her patio? Now, that sounded beyond decadent.
    “The garage door is open,” she said, jarring him back to reality.
    “Oh, right. I took a quick look inside. Water damage from the roof, I suspect, but I’ll have to grab a ladder off the truck and climb up to check for sure. Okay if I do that?”
    “Go for it.”
    * * *
    Rachel followed Sam’s retreat around the side of the house. He had a distinct bowlegged walk, all lanky and a little curved, his strong hands swinging at his sides with casual ease. So sexy.
    The mulch bag she’d been leaning on gave way and she plunged forward, landing on the half-empty bag in a sprawl. Rachel blew a strand of hair from her face and glanced toward the corner of the house where Sam had just disappeared. He hadn’t seen.
    “What am I doing?” she muttered. “I’ve been around handsome men before. Why does that one put me off my game?”
    Her game being a cold facade that announced to the single men in the world that she was picky about her relationships and wasn’t about to let anyone nudge their way into her life—and that of her son’s—until they’d passed her rigorous requirements.
    Thing was, she’d never really established what those should be.
    The man had to be good with children. And kind. Smart and employed were two important qualifications. But the real test seemed rooted in her heart, some indefinable quality Rachel sensed she would know only when actually experiencing it.
    No matter. She’d been with the guy all of a dozen