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“Are you Miss Foster?”

She nodded her head quickly in response to his sharp deh the floorboards of the veranda and now the splintered fraged teeth

“You broke my veranda” Brilliant, Abby, she chastised herself She crossed her areous example of masculinity you’ve ever seen shows up on your doorstep and that’s what you come up with? You broke my veranda?

“Me? The dah You’re lucky I didn’t break my neck”

Abby wasn’t sure how to respond A part of her felt the need to be polite and apologize—after all, he was standing ankle-deep in splintered wood At the saed the property she’d only been in possession of for a scant hour She was tired and his abrasive tone seemed to ride on her last nerve

“I beg your pardon, but it appears you’re trespassing I don’t know you and I certainly didn’t invite you here, Mr…”

“Arseneault,” he answered He gave his boot a good yank and pulled it fro the strength of the boards and then looked up at her with a grin that es off her annoyance “To to be seeing a lot of me”

Tom looked down into Miss Foster’s astonished face as he issued his declaration She was a pretty little thing, if you took away the coating of dirt that seemed to cover her from head to toe Her mouth was a little too wide for the daintiness of her nose, and her hair was mousy brown, coated with dust, and fell liood eyes—a nice clear blue, kind of like Penobscot Bay on a clear summer’s day She wore faded, ripped jeans that seeure and a plain cotton T-shirt that emphasized a nice pair of breasts She was the kind of wolance to on the street—but not a second look Tom’s first impression was of a sweet rather than a second-look kind of woman

Until he saw her feet She wore silly little flip-flops—the strappy bit that ran across the top of her foot crusted with sparkly stuff—and her toenails were painted hot pink Ultrafeminine and sexy as hell

Shaking off his sudden foot fetish, Tohts So the dusty little mouse had pretty feet So what? She certainly didn’t eined Marian’s heir to look like He’d expected a irl before hi with the fa of being off balance Miss Foster looked like she’d fit in at his cousin Jess’s craft shop stringing beads on he a head for business

First thing he had to do was make her see howat her It wasn’t her fault the floor was rotted through, and it wasn’t her fault she had sexy feet He took a breath, slapped his best trust-ht little voice cut hiue his case

“I have never heard of you, Mr Arseneault,” she replied, as if oblivious to his sher into the air “But you can take your big boots and your bigger attitude and leave the way you came”

Had he really just thought she wasn’t regal? The proclahed He couldn’t help it She was going toe-to-toe with hiood dose of Foster blood in her after all She looked so serious it was very nearly adorable

“Honey,” he said s foot” He chuckled, looking down at his foot recently freed from the porch “Why don’t we just talk and—”

Her cheeks colored “I’ail I asked you to leave, and I am not afraid to call the police”