Hard to Resist - By Kara Lennox Page 0,37
off his irritation. When it came to fitting in here at Station 59, sometimes it seemed he took one step forward and two steps back. Still, he was making progress.
Priscilla joined him a few minutes later, and they worked in companionable silence pulling weeds.
“I didn’t know David Latier,” Priscilla said, “but I’m sure the man wouldn’t begrudge a couple of rookies working on his garden.”
Ethan agreed.
“So, did you give Samantha her puppy?” Priscilla asked.
Ethan smiled. “Sam and I are going to share her.”
“Look at you. You’re grinning like a chimpanzee. You look just like Tony did when he first met what’s-her-name from the academy. Must be true luuuuuuv.” Priscilla took a dead vine from the garden and looped it around Ethan’s neck, then draped it over his head.
He snatched the vine away, laughing. “Don’t even think of comparing me to Tony. I don’t fall in love once a month like him.”
“True. But now that you’re in love, you’ve got that same sappy grin and that oh-ain’t-it-good-to-be-alive attitude. Sorta makes me sick.”
“I’m not in love,” Ethan said quickly. He busied himself digging a hole for the next tomato plant. “I don’t even know Kat that well.”
“Doesn’t matter. Face it, you’re in love. I recognize the signs.”
“How would you know? Have you ever been in love, Ice Princess?”
“No, I haven’t, and don’t call me that.”
“So why don’t you date? You’re pretty, intelligent, well-educated. Any guy would go out with you.”
“Do you see any guys hitting on me?”
“Well, no.” Priscilla wasn’t just pretty, she was a knockout. But she did give off definite keep-away-from-me vibes. Even Tony, who flirted with every woman he came into contact with, from the grocery-store checker to the eighty-year-old woman who walked her Chihuahua down their street every day, had learned not to flirt with Priscilla.
Ethan wisely decided not to point out that her Ice Princess nickname wasn’t entirely undeserved.
“Don’t you, like, want to hook up with anybody?” Ethan asked gingerly.
“I get all the male companionship I could possibly need. I live at a firehouse with nothing but men. I have one living downstairs from me and another next door. Why would I want to date one?”
Ethan thought about Kat and the sweet kiss they’d shared last night, and he couldn’t help grinning again. Dating could be so much fun.
CHAPTER NINE
“HOW MUCH IS IT going to cost?” Kat asked her regular mechanic, thinking she hadn’t heard right.
“Twelve hundred, give or take,” said the mechanic, repeating what he’d already told her once, disregarding the note of panic in her voice. “You got a cracked head gasket, and your cam and crank sensors have been damaged, too.”
She had not a clue what all that meant.
She’d started out that morning feeling pretty optimistic about how the week had gone. The company that handled her renters’ insurance had finally come through with a check. She’d thought, since she’d lost everything, she would get the full amount of her policy. But no, there were loopholes. Still, the check was enough to let her pay off a good chunk of her credit-card balance and sock away a few hundred for emergencies.
Samantha was doing better. Her teacher reported that she was back to her usual self. She’d been helping Ethan take care of Winnie, and the two of them had walked the pup down the block and back. Jasmine had taken Sam under her wing, too, and the two girls had played together several times.
Kat had new StrongGirls groups forming for the summer, and she’d hired two wonderful new counselors. The Dallas Morning News had run a small article on Kat, and as a result she had several schools calling to get more information.
And then there was Ethan. He’d been terrific, seemingly happy to spend time with Kat, though her daughter had constantly been their chaperone. He’d bought and installed a large window-unit air conditioner, which she hadn’t yet turned on because they’d been treated to a rare May cool spell. But other than that, he’d not tried to give her anything, help her with anything or in any way tried to tell her how to live her life.
She’d been on her way to an appointment with a school principal at Woodrow Wilson High that afternoon, singing to the radio. Then her car had started to make the most god-awful racket, clattering and smoking. She managed to get it off the freeway and coast to a stop on the service road, before she’d called the auto club.
Twelve hundred dollars. Could that be right? But she