Apples Should Be Red by Penny Watson Read Free Book Online Page A

sure I got everything I needed at the farm stand down the street. It’s very sweet.”
    “I know it’s sweet . But hell. I’m not interested in a home fucking makeover.” He backed her up into the counter and scowled. “I’ve had just about enough of your helpful hints and suggestions and—”
    Beverly saw a host of emotions on Tom’s face. Anger. Irritation. And buried deep within his icy blue eyes, she saw just the slightest hint of curiosity. He might rail and yell and throw a fit, but down deep he was ready for a change.
    Baby steps.
    “Well. I’ll tell you what. You can sit on the porch.” She paused. “The stoop, I mean, and watch me work. Heckle me if you want to. Sip a lemonade while I do all the work. And when I’m done, if you hate it, you can rip the whole thing up and throw it in the compost pile.”
    Tom bracketed her with his arms on the counter. Now she was trapped. He leaned closer and stared at her mouth.
    She was sure this was his idea of intimidation, but he had no idea how stubborn she could be. And this morning when she woke up—listening to the crows cawing on the telephone wires—she had a vision. Of his front porch looking sweet and lovely and welcoming.
    And no matter how much he fought her, she was going to make that vision a reality.
    “Me sit on the stoop and watch you sweat it out. There’s a thought.”
    “See? You’ll enjoy it.”
    He grunted. “You are the biggest pain-in-the-ass busybody I have ever goddamned met in my life.”
    She raised an eyebrow.
    Tom backed up and swept an arm toward the front door. “Knock yourself out. But don’t be surprised if the motherfucking daisies end up in the compost pile.”
    It was difficult, but Beverly only smiled on the inside.
    He had to hand it to her. She was a hard-worker. And stubborn as a mule.
    Tom guzzled a beer as he watched the sweat drip down Beverly’s face.
    She’d been at it for two goddamned hours. Ripping up weeds and edging a border in front of the porch. He didn’t know squat about flowers. But it looked like she’d chosen some good ones. They seemed sturdy enough. And there were a lot of foliage plants, too. Maybe herbs, he wasn’t sure. He hated to give her the satisfaction of asking about it. But at some point, he might just give in.
    She stood, cracked her back, and wiped her forehead with a red bandana.
    “Want a cold beer?” he taunted.
    “No, thank you. I have water.”
    “Sure is nice in the shade.”
    She smiled. “I’m sure it is.”
    “Hope you didn’t run into any poison ivy. That would put a damper on your holiday festivities.”
    “I’m being very careful, thank you. We’re at Defcon Two this morning.” She cocked her head to the side and shot him a fake smile.
    Tom chuckled. He couldn’t help himself.
    Beverly tipped the wheelbarrow and worked her way over to the mulch pile at the edge of the driveway. She could barely maneuver it across the overgrown grass. He knew his scraggly lawn pissed off the neighbors. Which was why he ignored it. He had a state-of-the-art mower he used for the back.
    Bev wrestled the wheelbarrow across the weeds, grunting as she hit a gnarled bunch of crabgrass.
    “Goddammit to hell.” He stood up reluctantly and headed to the garage. Five minutes later he roared into the front yard. He refused to look at her. She was kneeling in her garden plot, piling up mulch. He didn’t need to look at her. He’d been watching for the last two hours. He knew exactly what she looked like.
    Temptation.
    He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to spank that sexy little ass in her faded blue jeans. Squeeze it and spank it and rub it. And bang it.
    He wanted to bang Beverly Anderson.
    Jesus H. Christ.
    Tom mowed the entire front yard. And by the time he was done, he got a good view of Beverly’s garden.
    He hated to admit it.
    Really hated to admit it.
    But it looked good. Not prissy and pink and idiotic the way some gardens did. She’d chosen yellow and blue flowers