Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

T o chase away the morning chill, Alexandra pulled her cardigan closer and stepped out her front door to soak up the sun rising cheerfully in the east. The limes and lemons were already maturing, and a few weeds had managed to push through the decorative gravel, but overall, Mr. Tenbury had kept his word about watching over things.

"Best go thank the man properly," Spreag said from somewhere behind her.

She nodded, heading for the neighbor's door. The weed warrior's truck wasn't in the drive, but his porch light was on. Before she could knock, the door opened.

"Queen Matilda!" The tall redhead from the plane filled the doorway, his curls loose around his shoulders. "How in heaven's name did ye find me?"

Alexandra blinked, caught off guard by the coincidence. "I...live next door." She pointed at her house. "I was looking for Mr. Tenbury."

"I dinnae ken who owns the place, but I'm lettin' it through 'til Christmas." His eyes sparkled with genuine delight. "Small world, aye? I was told the woman next door was a widow..."

"Yes." She swallowed hard. "My husband died in Scotland."

The sparkle dimmed to sympathy. "I'm that sorry to hear it. Alexandra, isn’t it? Must have been a recent loss?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and started backing down the stairs.

"Well then." He stepped onto the porch. "I'm Callum Fraser, and I'm here soaking up the warmth before winter hits hard back home. If ye need anything at all..."

"Thank you, but I'll be fine." She started to turn away.

"Wait!" He jogged down the steps. "I've been tryin' to figure out the bloody grill, and I've got steaks that need cookin'..." He stopped short, horror dawning on his face. "Auch, that came out wrong. I meant to ask ye to dinner, not ask ye to cook."

Despite herself, Alexandra smiled. "Either way, I have to decline. But thank you."

"Right. O' course." He raked his fingers through his red curls. "I'm sorry about earlier, by the way. About comparing ye to a ewe."

"A what?"

"A ewe. E-W-E. A sheep!"

This time she laughed, then waved and walked away, aware of his gaze following her all the way home.

Spreag leaned against the pillar beside her front door. His expression was unreadable. "Seems a nice enough fellow."

"I expected a little jealousy."

"Oh? Maybe it's just that I ken who holds yer heart, and he's not a sheep farmer."

"Oh. Okay."

"What's wrong?"

She met his eyes. "I just worried you were planning a future for me without you."

He rolled his eyes as she passed into the house. It was too bad he couldn't pull her into his arms and assure her he wasn't going anywhere.

She wrapped her arms around herself instead, and though it was a poor substitute, it was better than nothing.

Callum watched Alexandra disappear into her house, then pressed his forehead against the doorframe, feeling the rough wood grain against his skin. What kind of eejit invites a grieving widow to dinner? Or worse, what sort of fool asks her to cook for him? Though that wasn't what he'd intended.

The desert morning was nothing like Scotland—crisp and clean and sunny, day after day. It was a welcome change from the damp that usually clung to his bones back home. The birds seemed louder, happier even. Their songs became part of the morning package that included the sweet scent of citrus blossoms mixing with desert sage.

He'd never been smooth with women, but this was a new low. Back home, his height and red hair made him stand out enough that women usually approached him first. Here in Arizona, he felt like an oddity—a Scottish sheep farmer with no reasonable excuse for invading the place. A man who was in the midst of packing his bags and flyin' home early...until the neighbor showed up.

And though he'd botched things, and the woman would need time and space to overcome her grief, he wasn't fool enough to give up now. She might as well have arrived in a lorry with a tag in her ear with his name on it, he was that keen on her already. His whole being warmed like a lamb in the sun when her laugh lit her face and brought a sparkle to her eyes.

He'd noticed that spark on the plane too, when he'd spied her talking to someone on her phone.

The two old sisters in Edinburgh had predicted he'd find something special in Arizona. At the time, he'd written them off as crafty old women who enjoyed meddling in people's lives. But now he wondered—had there been something in that tea they'd served him? Because he'd never believed in love at first sight before, but now...

They'd helped him arrange his rental, had encouraged him to take that specific flight. But they couldn't have known this lass would be aboard, nor that she lived next door...

Or had they?

Either way, he was grateful for his luck.

The sun warmed his face as he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial, knowing his grandmother would be enjoying her afternoon tea.

"Hello, my boy!" His grandmother was far too happy. "How's America treatin' ye?"

"Fine, Gran, fine. Oy, remember those two odd sisters with the tea shop?"

"Ach, the ones who said ye'd find yer destiny in the desert? Dinnae say ye believe that nonsense already."

She wasn't fooling him. She believed in their fortunetelling wholeheartedly.

"I wonder if they might have a gift after all." He described the strange coincidence of meeting Alexandra twice, first on the plane and now as neighbors.

His grandmother's laughter warmed him like hot tea. "Is that so, is that so?"

"Aye." He described Alexandra, her beautiful curls, her bright sad eyes, the way she'd lit up when she smiled. Then explained that she's recently lost her husband, a fellow Scot from Huntly.

"Ah." Her tone grew serious. "That's rough timin', my heart. Rough timin'. Still, the sisters ken what they're about, else I'd have never sent ye to them."

"I hope so." He inhaled deeply and watched a hummingbird dart between the heavy-laden branches of a tangerine tree at the side of the yard. The idea of anything being harvested so late in the year boggled his mind.

"The sisters did say to trust yer instincts." He could hear her moving around her kitchen, opening and shutting drawers. "They're rarely wrong about such things."

"They also bid me be patient." He grimaced, remembering their cryptic warnings. "I was too fast in askin' her to dinner."

"Give her time, love. If it's meant to be..."

"Aye." He glanced toward Alexandra's house, wondering if she could see him pacing his wide porch like a lovesick teenager. Then a thought struck and he stood stock still. "What if I've imagined it all. What if she isnae meant for me a' tall? What if I'm supposed to meet someone else? Besides, Gran, ye should see her. Then ye'd ken she's completely out of m' league."

"Dinna fash, love. It's too soon to ken such things. Follow yer heart." She sighed loudly into the phone. "And Christmas or not, Callum Fraser, dinnae come home alone, do ye hear?" Then she hung up.

He might have felt bad had she not started laughing before the line cut off. He was fairly certain she was jokin'.

Relatively certain.