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Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
~Psalm 90:12~
She'd tried to kill him.
Jake swallowed an oath and cut the motor on the mower he wrestled through overgrown September grass. His heart thundered like a runaway semi as his gaze locked on the woman's startling green eyes, framed by a wisp of sun-kissed blonde hair. She was shorter than he was — quite a bit shorter — and willowy as a ribbon in the wind, but the strappy sandals hugging her feet added a bit of height.
"Have you lost your mind?" The words tumbled out before Jake could get a hold on them. "I might have run over you, hacked off a few of your toes." He quickly regretted his harsh tone when her smile wilted. Her gaze lowered to her feet, and she wiggled her pink-polished toes.
"But you didn't, and I'm still in one piece. So ..." She had a slight Southern accent, a soft lilting voice that he imagined could flash to a bite in an instant.
Jake drew a long, calming breath laced with the sweet scent of freshly mown grass as he swiped a forearm across his brow. Sweat trickled down his back, making his T-shirt cling to damp skin. "Don't you know you're not supposed to sneak up on people when they're working with dangerous equipment?"
"Of course." Her gaze narrowed as she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. He imagined her lack of height was no deterrent to getting her way, and her tone might have scalded the first few layers of skin from him. "But I didn't sneak up on you."
"Could have fooled me." He huffed out a breath and wished he wasn't feeling so short-tempered. It gave the wrong impression, especially here at church, and with someone new. He tugged the collar of his T-shirt and hoped for a cool breeze, trying not to think about how he was in a hurry to pick up Corey, and that he didn't have time for chit-chat. But he'd make time ... he always did. It was part of his job. "I sure didn't hear you coming."
"I called to you, but you're mowing." She enunciated the word as if she thought he might be a few cards short of a Pinochle deck. "That's most likely why you didn't hear me."
"Yeah, that's just my point." Jake's restraint was sorely tested by the smug gleam in her eye. His gaze grazed her crisp linen jacket over a flowered sundress that caressed a lithe figure. She looked graceful and cool under the blistering glare of the sun.
Jake, on the other hand, was sweltering to the point of self-combustion. He hadn't intended to mow the grass, but when Bill Rogers, the church caretaker, called in with a sick daughter, there wasn't time to find help. So Jake stepped in to pick up the slack. He brushed prickly blades of mulched grass from his faded jeans and gestured toward the mower. "Care to give it a go?"
She took a giant step back. "No thanks. I'm not ... properly dressed." She surveyed him, shielding her eyes from the sun that burned from a cloudless blue sky. Her other hand disappeared into the tote slung over one shoulder. "Drink?" She offered him a bottle of water. "You look like you can use some cooling off."
Jake reached for the water. His pulse rate was beginning to ease, and thirst won out over pride. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She gaped as he uncapped the bottle and guzzled the cool water in little more than a gulp then swiped stray droplets from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Do you need to sit down for a minute? You look ... winded."
"No. I'm almost done." Jake wouldn't have chosen jeans that morning if he'd kn
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