Summer's Night Read Free Page B

head, Summer sat down on the front porch, brush in hand.
    Brushing the dog each night served two purposes. Each stroke served as therapy for Summer, helping her release the day's tension and simply relax into the moment she shared with her dog. The other proved more practical. Great Pyrenees were known for their hair and when they shed, it looked like a ton of cotton balls had fallen from the sky. Luckily, daily brushing made a major dent in what her poor old vacuum had to suck off of the floor and out of the area rug. Every couple of weeks she wrestled the one hundred pound dog into the shower, scrubbing her with oatmeal canine soap, then dried her until the soft hair floated in the breeze. Murphy tolerated the procedure with her typical laid-back demeanor. Nothing short of an overt threat to her or the horses got the dog's dander up. Luckily, those didn't happen too often.
    She sighed, grateful for the covered front porch, which provided a shady cool place to rest as she groomed Murphy. As long as she could remember, she'd loved the large area, complete with railing and steps that led to the ground. Her grandparents originally owned the old farmhouse and surrounding acreage; her mother grew up in the very same house. When her frail, elderly grandmother passed three years before, she'd bequeathed the farmhouse and ten acres to Summer, much to her amazement. Her insightful and smart grandmother not only spoke often to Summer's mother about her wishes, she'd written them down in a legalized will, lining up assets and belongings to pass on. Without the generous gift, even as a physical therapist, Summer wouldn't be able to afford the land or to care for the three horses she'd adopted last year if she had to start from scratch.
    Murphy groaned in contentment, stretching out on her side, giving Summer ample space and opportunity to brush her side and belly.
    "Spoiled." She grinned affectionately at the canine.
    Her thoughts wandered back to Mrs Kensington's son, Colton. He preferred being called Night, she quickly reminded herself. An odd nickname, but considering his physical features shouted a strong Native American history, it wasn't a huge surprise. He carried his large frame well, sound and sturdy, muscle mass in abundance, but not extreme like body builders aimed for. No. His strength came from hard work; she could see it in his fluid movements, his graceful motions. A man used to physical activity and comfortable with his body.
    Those deep blue eyes. An odd feature for his heritage, unique yet beautiful. Eyes that reflected understanding and insight as well as intelligence and wisdom. If she didn't know better, she would swear he could see right through her and into her very soul. Intimidating. Not that she had anything to hide.
    Her life could be described as simple. Working with physical therapy clients in their homes then back to care for her home and animals. Pretty boring when compared to most people, but not for her. She enjoyed the solitude and absence from the rat race most people endured.
    Summer wondered what Night's career involved. She knew he lived with his mother, but business took him away often. That much Mrs Kensington told her. She also mentioned he remained single despite dating various women. He just hasn't found the right one to touch his heart. The older woman's words replayed through her mind. She could understand that sentiment, being a romantic herself. Those that married for money or prestige baffled her.
    Her brief interlude with Night that morning hinted he might be difficult to live with. Most certainly he cared for and doted on his mother. She couldn't argue that. But, she'd noticed the way his jaw tensed when she asked him not to assist Mrs Kensington in standing. He didn't take orders well and probably would have told her to shove off if his mother hadn't been present. Control. She could see that in him.
    Alpha male. She shook her head and grinned. All those romance novels corrupted her. But