Summer Rose by Elizabeth Sinclair Read Free Book Online

mind, but then tire swings and little white houses were definitely not my priorities.”
    Rose couldn’t repress a chuckle. “Girls, right?” She had a flashing vision of Hunter, hormones raging, ogling every girl that passed and handsome as he was, no doubt being ogled in return.
    “Oh, yeah. Girls, girls and more girls.” The rocker started up again.
    Silence blanketed them. Contented, Rose listened to an owl hooting in the dense woods bordering the sanctuary’s chain-link fence. A car passed around the curve in the road at the end of the lane leading to the clinic. Its lights swept across the yard. A light breeze ruffled Rose’s hair.
    Hunter’s soft voice broke the thoughtful silence. “What about you?”
    “Me?”
    “Yeah, you and boys. Don’t tell me they weren’t chasing you down for dates.”
    “I’m afraid not. School kept me too busy for dates. I guess most everyone saw me as a bit of a bookworm. I’ve always loved reading and learning new things.”
    “Books never held any particular excitement for me back then. I was more of a hands-on guy. Then I had to . . . Well, other things took precedence.” He laughed and looked just the slightest bit embarrassed at the admission.
    Rose wondered what he’d been about to say, but only for a moment. Hunter’s deep-throated laugh only deepened the contentment embracing Rose. A congenial silence lay between them for a time before he spoke again. “So, are you married?”
    “No.”
    “Engaged?”
    “No.”
    “Seeing someone?”
    “No.” She let go of his hand, sat up straight and then peered at him through the dim light. One part of her rebelled at his inquiries. Another part reveled in the fact that his curiosity revealed a certain degree of interest. “Didn’t you read my job application? And what does this have to do with anything?”
    He laughed again, recaptured her hand in his, and then leaned back. “No, I didn’t read it, at least not all of it, and it doesn’t have a single thing to do with anything. I’m just nosy.”
    Warmth spread over her like thick honey. That laugh of his could charm fish from a pond and make them grateful they’d swallowed the hook.
    You are a dangerous man, Hunter Mackenzie.
    Hunter didn’t have a clue as to why he’d asked her all those questions about her personal relationships. Nor did he want to explore it to find out why. Maybe he just didn’t want to talk about what the Johnson house really looked like, had always looked like: the trash and weeds in the yard, the ramshackle porch—the men who came and went at all hours.
    Odd that his recollection differed so much from Beth’s description. Could she have just painted a picture for Rose that fit into what Beth had wanted to see? Had Beth really loved Carson all that much or had she invented the spruced-up version for Rose’s sake?
    “So what happened to Beth? If she liked Carson so much, why didn’t she come back here with you?” He felt her stiffen, then she slowly extracted her hand from his.
    When he turned to look at her, she’d leaned her head forward, her face effectively hidden behind a veil of hair. If he hadn’t learned anything else about Rose in the past two days, he’d learned that she hid behind that mass of hair whenever a subject arose that she wanted to avoid.
    “Rose? Did I say something—”
    “No.” She raised her head and favored him with a watery smile. “It’s just that . . . Beth and her husband were killed in a car accident—” Her voice choked off. “I’m sorry. It still feels very new.”
    A sob broke from her and large tears welled in her eyes, and then cascaded down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as she wept quietly.
    If someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out, Hunter could not have hurt more for Rose. Hating himself for raising the subject at all, he left his rocker and went to her. He drew her up and into his arms in one gentle movement. Pressing her cheek against his chest, he