Marcus dumped the wheelbarrow of mulch onto a tarp, grinned at Noah, and went off to get some more. Noah looked at the shrub border, which was still half full of weeds in spite of the fact someone had been weeding for a while. He set down his shovel and knelt beside her.
He didn't know the woman, though she had one of those friendly, familiar-type faces, long dark chestnut hair, and glasses. Well, her face would be friendly, but it was currently set into a scowl as she weeded with a focused ferocity.
Noah grinned and began to pull weeds. "I'd hate to be the people you're imagining as you're ripping the weeds from the ground," he said, because that was obviously what she was doing, working out frustration of some kind.