“You look like you’ve just chased a coonhound through the woods, Jeb.’’

When he straightened, he was holding a bouquet of daisies.

“Yeah, I’m sweatin’ buckets.’’ He looked embarrassed. “The AC’s out in my truck. Never happens in December, does it? It feels like a sauna in there.’’

He held out the flowers. “Anyway, these are for you. I figured I owed you an apology for being so rude at the diner. Your mama must have heard an earful after I left.’’

As I took the flowers, our hands brushed. His fingers were strong, work-callused. I fought myself over the little shiver of desire I felt.

“Daisies are your favorite, right? I remembered.’’

I couldn’t even think of the last time a man had given me flowers. I smiled my thanks. That didn’t mean I wasn’t still suspicious.

“So, you just drove up.’’ I took a couple of steps to the front of the truck and put my hand on the hood. The metal was as hot as Hades. The engine still ticked. “I had an interesting experience a little earlier this morning.’’

He raised his brows in a question.

“I felt like something was watching me from the woods by the alligator pond. Then, I heard something big coming at me through the brush.”

Jeb’s face lit up. “Was it a black bear? Remember that time we spotted that cute little cub over in Highlands County? And then its mama came on the scene, and she didn’t look near as cute.’’

I laughed. “I remember you were just as scared as me, and I almost peed my pants.’’

He looked at me, and the golden flecks in his eyes shone. “We had some good times in those days, didn’t we, Mace?’’

“Some real good times,’’ I agreed. “And a few bad.’’

He took off his hat and shifted his eyes to the ground. He ran a hand through his hair, which curled in sweaty clumps. Then he looked up at me again. “Do you think we could talk somewhere, Mace?’’

“We can. But first I have to ask you something. You wouldn’t have had any reason to be running around in the woods out here this morning, would you?’’

He cocked his head “Mace, it’s hotter than a pepper patch. The mosquitoes are as big as B-52 bombers. I can think of about twenty places off the top of my head that I’d rather be than in the woods. And that would include sitting in the chair at my dentist’s office. I told you, I just got here. The only reason I came at all is to apologize to you.’’

He slapped at his neck, then flicked a dead mosquito from his palm.

I glanced into the trees surrounding the parking lot. Nothing but the insects stirred.

“It’s just that I had a …’’

My voice trailed off as I tried to figure out how, without sounding weak or crazy, to explain what I’d had. The sense of threat. The paralyzing fear. After all, it was just some rustling in the brush.

“You know what, Jeb? It’s no big deal.’’ I held up the flowers. “Let’s head to the office, where I can get these in some water. We can sit out on a bench in the breezeway. At least there’s shade, and ceiling fans to keep us cool.’’

He put his hat back on. “Give me a minute to throw something over the feed I’ve got in the truck. I don’t want it to get wet if it rains.’’

I stepped aside to let him get to the truck’s bed. I took the opportunity to admire the view as Jeb leaned over to secure a tarp. His sweaty shirt was tucked tautly into his narrow waist. The W’s on the back pockets of his Wrangler jeans lay just right. My eyes traveled all the way from his well-shaped rear, down his legs, to the heels of his dusty cowboy boots.

That’s when I noticed something small clinging to the bottom of his pants leg. In the back, where it’d be hard to see, a burr from the woods’ brushy undergrowth was stuck to the fabric of Jeb’s boot-cut jeans.

“What the hell is this?’’ I leaned over and plucked the burr from Jeb’s pant leg. Pinching it between my thumb and forefinger, I thrust it inches from his face.

“How should I know, Mace? You know plants a lot better than I do. Why don’t you look it up in a plant book?’’

“It’s a beggar’s tick, Jeb. And I don’t mean, What is it? I mean, How in the hell did it come to be hitching a ride on your Wranglers?’’

He cocked his boot up to examine the back of his pant leg. Then he repeated it with the other leg. “I thought I got all of those off before I headed over here to see you. I worked this morning, but I did clean up. Not that you’d be able to tell it from the stink of me, after I drove all the way from Wauchula in my sweat box of a truck.’’

I tucked the beggar’s tick into the pocket of my work pants. You never know what you might need as evidence.

“What are you so freaked out about anyway? Is that from some nasty plant you don’t want taking hold here at Himmarshee Park?” His eyebrows raised in a question. And then, as he realized what I was implying, they V-ed down to a frown. “You’re not serious, Mace.’’

“As serious as a heart attack.’’ I took a step back, my hands on my hips. “Which is what I almost had this morning, when I was convinced something in those woods was stalking me. Now I find a burr from the brush on a man who claimed he’d rather be anywhere else than out stomping through some swampy woods.’’

“You’ve lost your mind.’’ He inched away, like he was afraid to catch crazy from me. “Your mama getting arrested for murder has sent you clear round the bend.’’ Staring at me, he shook his head. “Do you think Himmarshee Park is the only place in Florida with brush?’’

He waited for an answer. I didn’t give him one, staring off into the trees.

“Well, it’s not.’’ Jeb answered his own question. “I was tearing through it on my own property early this morning when a calf got tangled up. He ran off, trailing some barbed wire into the woods.’’

I thought about that for a moment. It seemed logical. I was beginning to feel stupid.

“Are you gonna suspect me of everything, just because I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life when we were kids? How many times can I say I’m sorry I lied to you? I’m sorry I cheated on you. I was young and stupid. I didn’t know how to handle the attention from the girls who hang around the rodeo.’’

He put a hand on my wrist. My skin felt hot where he touched it, and it wasn’t just the outside temperature.

“Look at me, Mace.’’

I slowly shifted my gaze from the tree line to his face. He was staring into my eyes. His hand still burned a palm print around my wrist.