Austin snatched the skimmer and plopped it in the pool. “And the gardener, and the maid, and the plumber, and the—”

“I get it, Austin.” And she did. Their workload had tripled. The inside of the house never stayed clean. Between Scout going in and out and the entire property covered in ash and a hillside that blew dirt with every gust of wind, it was impossible to keep up.

The damage to the sprinkler system had been unreasonably crazy. From all the trucks that had run over risers and the fire melting the pipes on the perimeter, Parker had become exceptionally efficient with PVC pipes and Red Hot Blue Glue.

She had sat down with her sister and brother and talked about how to best spend the insurance money. Much as they hated to see the barns gone, none of them wanted to rebuild them. Not when they had no intentions, or ability, to own a horse to live inside them. By the time Andrew had cut the checks, Parker had lived with the mess long enough to realize they were going to need outside help. At least once they were all back in school. Austin in his senior year, Mallory in her third year of college, and Parker working as an aide at the very elementary school they’d all attended. “I put an ad in to rent out the guesthouse. The extra money will help pay for that kind of help.”

Her brother frowned. “I hate the thought of strangers here.”

She pointed to the pool. “More than you dislike a three-hour job of cleaning the pool every time the wind blows?”

He dragged the skimmer filled with leaves from the trees that didn’t burn and muttered something she didn’t hear.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I should have got a job like Mallory. Then I wouldn’t be out here.”

Parker flipped on the pump to the pool and talked over the noise. “You’re right, you’d be at work. Stop bitching and let’s get this done before it’s too hot to breathe out here.”

Too hot to breathe descended upon them by noon. With Austin mumbling the whole time, she sent him inside and grabbed a long extension tree pruner and a pair of gloves. Hot or not, there was still some green at the top of a dozen trees on the far end of the property that she wanted desperately to save.

So while her brother showered and bellied up to the TV in his bedroom, Parker kept working. Every hour she spent doing the job was one less that she needed to pay someone else to. She pulled a couple of green waste cans and went to work.

Within an hour, she filled the two barrels and rolled them outside the automatic gate where the trash collectors could pick them up on Monday. She had no less than six cans on the private street each week. An easy task when she needed to remove over thirty dead trees, some of which were nothing but black sticks with no life in them. Half a dozen barrels a week would take a few years to remove all the debris.

She’d have to cave and hire someone eventually.

Right now, she felt the need to move. Cut dead branches, clean swimming pools, fix sprinkler lines. Anything to exhaust herself and make it easier to sleep at night.

“Excuse me?”

Parker turned toward the sound of the male voice and brushed aside hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. The sun glared in her eyes, making it difficult to get a clear picture of the man standing on the other side of her gate.

“Hello,” she greeted him.

“Do you live here?”

Probably a neighbor, she thought to herself. They’d shown up constantly after the fire to see how close the flames had actually come to their homes. Many of them invited themselves in without knocking. That was until she paid to have someone come in and fix the broken gate and stop the trespassers.

“I would hope so,” she said, waving the pruner in her hands. “I don’t think I would take this job for actual money.” The closer she got to the gate, the better the features of the man came into focus. He stood at least three inches taller than her, no easy task when she was five nine. Broad shoulders and arms that didn’t look like they slaved in an office all day. He wore jeans. It had to be over a hundred degrees, and the man wore jeans.

And filled them out nicely, if she wasn’t too tired to notice.

Parker forced her gaze back to his face, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses; his thick brown hair wasn’t covered by a hat.

She stopped in front of him, the gate to the property a clear division. The intense set of his jaw softened slightly. “Is your, ah . . . husband here?”

Three years ago, in a bar . . . or while out with friends, she would have instantly denied a lack of a husband. Out here, with a stranger . . . even an attractive one standing at her front door, she wasn’t about to correct him. “Who’s asking?”

The man’s smile fell and he quickly removed his sunglasses. “I’m sorry. My name is Colin Hudson. Colin to my friends.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Hudson?” She wasn’t about to call him by his first name.

“I work with the Public Works Department and wanted to see if you’d let me take a quick look at the wash that runs through your property.” He reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. Out came a business card that he handed her through the bars of the iron gate.

She had to move close enough to take the card, but retreated once she had it in her fingertips.

He instantly shoved his hands in his front pockets and took a step back.

The card looked legit. Parker reminded herself that anyone with a computer could make a business card. “Does your department work on Saturdays, Mr. Hudson?”

“All the time.”

She peered beyond the gate, didn’t see a car. “Did you walk here?”

Mr. Hudson looked over his shoulder, pointed his thumb down the street. “I have a company truck. I parked around the corner.”

“Ah-huh.” She wanted to believe him. His caramel brown eyes looked kind enough. “Even Ted Bundy was good-looking,” she said loud enough for him to hear.

Parker looked up to find him staring, his mouth gaped open. “That’s a first.”

“Sorry.” Not sorry. “By-product of being a lone woman on a large piece of property with a stranger asking to come in. Business card aside, you could be anyone.”

He lifted his hands in the air. “Very wise. I hope my sister would do the same. I was just hoping to get an eye on the canyon before Monday’s meeting. But I can wait.”

She relaxed her grip on the tree pruner. “What meeting?”

“The city and county are meeting to discuss the concerns of the watershed after the fire. We’re developing a plan to preserve property during the winter. If I could take a quick look, it would help.”

“You mean prevent mudslides?”

“Control mudslides,” he corrected her.

She shifted from foot to foot. “You can do that?”

“It’s a big part of our job.” He smiled, looked over her shoulder. “I can wait. I don’t want to make you uneasy.”

Parker looked back toward the house. “Tell you what. You go get your company truck and I’ll grab a snake fork and show you the wash.”

His eyes narrowed with an unasked question.

“It’s summer. Rattlesnakes are a thing,” she explained.

“You sure?”

Yeah, she was sure. “I’ll open the gate. You can park inside.”