for her towel and blotted her sweat-dampened face and chest. The sharp taste of bile burned at the back of her mouth, a sure sign that she’d overexerted herself again.
Well. A little nausea was a price she was willing to pay if it meant she made a faster recovery.
She stood, running the towel over her cropped hair. Mr. Smith stood, too, tail wagging as he looked at her expectantly.
“Yes, little man, it’s time for breakfast.”
If she could stomach it.
She wrapped the towel around her shoulders like a cape and headed for the kitchen. A sharp noise stopped her in her tracks before she’d gotten halfway. It had been so long since anyone had come to the door that it took her a full second to recognize the sound as a knock. She glanced over her shoulder. A dark form filled the pebbled glass of the door. She frowned. Who on earth would be visiting her at ten o’clock on a Thursday morning?
Her first thought was that it was Patrick, but she dismissed it instantly. He was hardly going to drive an hour out of town to visit her—not when he hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone in more than four months. No, she had a better chance of finding Elvis on the other side of that door than her ex-husband, and an even better chance of finding a complete stranger who probably wanted to sell her something.
The joy. Just what she wanted to deal with when she was shaky with fatigue and nausea.
She swung open the door, ready to give short shrift to the cold-calling salesman on her porch.
The man on her porch was definitely not a cold caller. Nothing about this man was cold, from the deep chestnut of his wavy, almost shoulder-length hair to his cognac-brown eyes to his full, sensual mouth. Then there was his body—nothing cold there, either. Broad shoulders, a chest Tarzan would be proud of, flat belly, lean hips. All wrapped up in faded jeans and a moss-green sweater that was the perfect foil for his coloring.
“Hey,” he said in an easy baritone. “I’m Oliver Garrett. I moved in next door.” He gestured toward the house on the other side of the fence. “Wanted to give you a heads-up in case you saw me moving around and thought I was a burglar or something.”
He smiled, so warm and vibrant and alive it was almost offensive. His gaze slid down her face, scanning her body in a polite but thoroughly male assessment. She tightened her grip on the towel, glad it was draped over her shoulders and arms. Managing a stranger’s shock then polite sympathy once he got an eyeful of the impressive scars on her left arm was not part of her plan for her morning.
“Mackenzie Williams,” she said briskly, offering him her hand.
They shook briefly, his much bigger hand dwarfing hers. She made a point of keeping her grip firm and looking him in the eye, a habit she’d acquired early in her career and one that had always alerted her about what kind of man she was dealing with.
Oliver Garrett held her eye and didn’t seem surprised by the firmness of her grip. More importantly, he didn’t try to grind her hand into dust with his superior strength. Both marks in his favor.
“I was hoping you could give me some guidance on where the best place is to grab supplies and whatnot,” he said.
He hadn’t shaved for a few days and his whiskers glinted in the sunlight, a mixture of dark brown, bronze and gold.
She tore her gaze away and concentrated on his question. “There aren’t many shops to choose from in town. One of everything, pretty much, which takes out the guesswork.”
Her legs were starting to tremble. She needed a protein drink and a shower and half an hour on her bed. She took a step backward to signal that she didn’t intend to stand on the doorstep chitchatting with him, golden stubble or no golden stubble.
“Figured that would be the case. It’s been years since I was here. But it doesn’t look as though much has changed.”
Nausea rolled through her, tightening her stomach and making her mouth water. She gripped the door frame. Any second now she was going to either throw up or wind up on her ass, and she wasn’t about to do either in front of a complete stranger.
“Listen, I have to go.” It came out more tersely than she’d intended, but there wasn’t much she