"No problem," he told her. "If you need anything else-"

"I know. I'll let you know. And thanks for calling the exterminator." She waved, then turned back to the station wagon. The children gathered around her, Lindsay and Blake grumbling about their chores.

Kyle walked over to his motorcycle and slipped on his leather jacket. After pulling on his helmet, he settled onto the seat and started the engine, then slowly drove back to the gatehouse.

He parked the bike by the back door, next to the small garage where he kept his Camaro. Ever since he'd found out Sandy had bought the Michaelson place, he'd been eager for her to arrive. He could have walked the twenty or so yards between their two houses, but he'd taken the bike, because, dammit, he'd wanted to impress her.

Sandy had been so impressed she couldn't wait to get rid of him. He'd come on too strong. He shouldn't have teased her. Impatiently, Kyle grabbed his jacket and helmet and headed for the back door. When had he started second-guessing himself about his behavior with women?

He unlocked the gatehouse door, then stepped into its compact kitchen. His entire place would fit into about a third of Sandy's downstairs, but it suited him fine. The living room was large, as was the master bedroom. There was a small study alcove off the dining room, and the bathroom had an oversize shower. He lived alone, he didn't need any more room. He liked his house, even if it was a little quiet sometimes.

After dumping his jacket and helmet on the kitchen table, he crossed the floor to the refrigerator next to the window. He pulled out a soda and popped the top. Before he could turn away, a faint sound of laughter caught his attention. He looked out the window. Sandy and her three kids still stood by their station wagon. Blake was carrying a bucket full of cleaning supplies. Lindsay was loaded down with brooms and mops. Sandy wrestled with a ladder that was taller than she was but that would never reach the high ceilings. They were all looking at little Nichole, who held the feather duster behind her like a tail. She pranced around the yard, scratching like a chicken looking for worms. Sandy said something and they all laughed again. Then they started toward the house.