with their coat of glossy pink polish.
Paper pusher, he thought. Probably didn't know crab-grass from sumac.
Because he wanted to give her and her clipboard the full treatment and get her off his ass, he switched
to the house and talked about the patio they intended to build and the plantings he'd use to accent it.
When he figured he'd done more talking than he normally did in a week, he finished off the water. Shrugged. He didn't expect her to follow everything he'd said, but she couldn't complain that he hadn't cooperated.
"It's wonderful. What about the bed running on the south side out front?"
He frowned a little. "We'll rip out the ivy, then the clients want to try their hand at that themselves."
"Even better. You've got more of an investment if you dig some yourself."
Because he agreed, he said nothing and only jingled some change in his pocket.
"Except I'd rather see winter creeper than yews around the shed. The variegated leaves would show
off well, as would the less uniform shape."
"Maybe."
"Do you work from a landscape blueprint or out of your head?"
"Depends."
Should I pull all his teeth at once, or one at a time, she thought, but maintained the smile. "It's just that
I'd like to see one of your designs, on paper, at some point. Which leads me to a thought I'd had."
"Bet you got lots of them."
"My boss told me to play nice," she said, coolly now. "How about you?"
He moved his shoulder again. "Just saying."
"My thought was, with some of the reorganizing and transferring I'm doing, I could cull out some office space for you at the center."
He gave her the same look he'd sent his men over her shoulder. A lesser woman, Stella told herself, would wither under it. "I don't work in a frigging office."
"I'm not suggesting that you spend all your time there, just that you'd have a place to deal with your paperwork, make your phone calls, keep your files."
"That's what my truck's for."
"Are you trying to be difficult?"
"Nope. I can do it without any effort at all. How about you?"
"You don't want the office, fine. Forget the office."
"I already have."
"Dandy. But I need an office. I need to know exactly what stock and equipment, what materials you'll need for this job." She "yanked out her notebook again. "One red maple, one magnolia. Which variety
of magnolia?"
"Southern. Grandiflora gloriosa."
"Good choice for the location. One weeping cherry" she continued, and to his surprise and reluctant admiration, she ran down the entire plan he'd tossed out at her.
Okay, Red, he thought. Maybe you know a thing or two about the horticulture end of things after all.
"Yews or winter creeper?"
He glanced back at the shed, tried both out in his head. Damn if he didn't think she was right, but he didn't see why he had to say so right off. "I'll let you know."
"Do, and I'll want the exact number and specimen type of other stock as you take them."
"I'd be able to find you ... in your office?"
"Just find me." She turned around, started to march off.
"Hey, Stella."
When she glanced back, he grinned. "Always wanted to say that."
Her eyes lit, and she snapped her head around again and kept going.
"Okay, okay. Jesus. Just a little humor." He strode after her. "Don't go away mad."
"Just go away?"
"Yeah, but there's no point in us being pissed at each other. I don't mind being pissed as a rule."
"I never would've guessed."
"But there's no point, right at the moment." As if he'd just remembered he had them on, he tugged off
his work gloves, stuck them finger-first in his back pocket. "I'm doing my job, you're doing yours. Roz thinks she needs you, and I set a lot of store by Roz."
"So do I."
"I get that. Let's try to stay out from under each other's skin, otherwise we're just going to give each
other a rash."