Free Mismatch by Tami Hoag Page B

those things as if they were candy.”
    Wade glanced at the roll of tablets before slipping them into his pants pocket. “Do I?” He shrugged. “Force of habit.”
    “Wearing neckties and munching on antacid. It’s none of my business, but you’ve got some bizarre habits, Grayson.”
    “You’re the one leading a sheep around,” he pointed out. Muffin raised her head from grazing to stare at him in a most disconcerting way. “Where did you get this animal?”
    “From Myron,” she said with a sunny smile, waving to the middle-aged man on the tractor. As the latest tune from Def Leppard blasted out of the boom box behind them, Bronwynn’s shoulders started moving with the beat.
    “Myron,” Wade said blankly.
    “Yeah. He has the farm across the road from you.” She gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve been here longer than I have and you haven’t met Myron?”
    “I don’t think that’s a capital offense,” he said. “I’ve been busy.”
    Bronwynn probably had met everybody in Shirley by now, he thought sourly. She was one of those people that others gravitated toward naturally. Wade knew; he was one too—when he chose to be.
    He couldn’t believe she’d moved so fast to start fixing the place up. Truthfully, he had expected her to junk the idea and go back to Boston before making one inquiry about hiring help. She hadn’t—that was another curve ball she’d thrown him. “Zanie went home, I take it.”
    Bronwynn nodded, absently pulling up tufts of grass and feeding them to her sheep. It hadn’t been easy to convince her sister to leave, but she’d finally managed to get through to her. “She came to see if I was all right and to try to convince me to go home with her.”
    “Why didn’t you?
    She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know how many times I’ve explained this in the last three days. I intend to stay here and fix this place up. It’s what I want to do. It’s what I need to do. It’s what I’m going to do. I may not have known why I was coming up here when I left my wedding Saturday, but I have given it considerable thought since I got here. I’m going to use my own two hands to strip wallpaper and sand floors. I may even try reupholstering some furniture.”
    “You’re talking about a tremendous amount of work, Bronwynn.” And a jump in the value of the property he wanted, he thought. “If I were you, I’d give it another long hard look before I found myself hip-deep in sawdust and tile grout.”
    Damn the man. He didn’t think she was capable of doing the job. Even after what he’d seen today, he still thought she was some bubble-headed debutante who would run home crying the second she broke a fingernail. She glanced down at her hands. Three nails were broken and two were chipped, and she was damn proud of it.
    “Well, you’re not me,” she said. “I’m fixing this place up whether you think I can do it or not.”
    “Fine,” he said calmly. “But don’t come crying to me when you’ve blown your trust fund on ceramic tile and then decided all this pastoral bliss is driving you crazy. You don’t belong here, Bronwynn. You’re a city girl. There are no posh nightclubs in Shirley, Vermont.”
    Outraged, Bronwynn stood up and sniffed at him. Wade pulled out a fresh cigarette and hung it negligently from his lip as he rose from the steps.
    He wanted Bronwynn Pierson and her mile-long legs out of there, he reminded himself. The sooner the better—for both of them. They would both save money if she went back to Boston now. He was still certain she’d end up going back before the lawn needed mowing again. He was doing them both a favor by pointing out the facts. She could cut her losses now and keep the asking price on the place down where it belonged.
    “You presumptuous, pompous ass,” Bronwynn said, nearly nose to nose with him. “You don’t know anything about me and I resent the image you’ve dreamed up. I’ve got some news for you, buster: I