“It feels like we’re sneaking in,” she whispered, tiptoeing into the foyer. “So this is where you work?”
“When I’m not on the water. The three of us—Harrison, Pol and me—went in on this place together a few years back.”
“Is
n’t Harrison the mayor?”
“And our builder and handyman. Pol looks after electronics—well, you already know how well that goes—and I do boats. And other carpentry. It’s not guaranteed work, but with the number of boats around here and the sea doing its best to beat the town underwater, it’s as close as you’ll get.”
“So you work on buildings all around town? If I go out and look, I’ll be looking at places you had a hand in making?”
“Or at least maintaining.”
“That’s wonderful.” Her gaze went distant. “It must be great, knowing the work you do is so important to the town.”
“Don’t you work at the sheriff’s office?”
“The sheriff’s office in Dunston,” she said, as though that said everything. She caught the expression on his face and waved her hands. “I worked as a tutor during high school, to save for college. Then after I got married I got the job at the sheriff’s office, and… kind of kept up the tutoring?” Arlo must have still looked confused. “Dunston is a quiet town. There is a lockup at the sheriff’s office, but mostly Reg just uses it to hold any teenagers he finds getting drunk or frisky where they shouldn’t. And they tended not to have done their homework before they went out to get into trouble, so… I guess I’m still tutoring. Still doing the same high-school job anyone could do, and not particularly contributing to anything else.”
Arlo frowned. “I bet the kids you taught would say different.”
“I’m not a teacher. It’s just… homework help. While they try not to vomit into buckets.” She sighed. “Never finished that degree, after all. Anyway. We were talking about you. You like the boats best?”
“Of course.” He wanted to ask her more about herself, but she’d made it clear that she’d prefer not to. And she seemed interested in his work, so he added: “I built the Hometide myself.”
“No!”
“It took me the best part of five years.” He led her through to the main workshop. The air was filled with the scents of wood dust and oil. Arlo breathed in deep. It smelled of long days of hard work.
Jacqueline grimaced. “I just spent the best part of five years… never mind. Is this for the boat?”
She walked over to Arlo’s bench and, when he gestured it was okay, picked up a wooden frame.
“How did you guess?” How did she guess?
“It’s the same size as the broken window above—” Her cheeks went pink. “Above, um, the bed.”
“I’m trying to decide what to put in it.” Arlo tried to keep the growl out of his voice, but his wolf was very interested by the way Jacqueline was blushing. “Plain glass, or…”
He stood next to her in front of the desk. She was so close he could smell her feminine scent under the wood, oil and smoke of the workshop.
Before the crowbar headache had hit him, he’d planned to spend the down-time after the house build working on a leadlight for the boat’s bedroom window.
“I’ve been collecting these pieces of colored glass for a while,” he said, sorting through a cardboard box of offcuts. “Watched a few videos online about how to do it. We’ve got all the tools here, I just need to decide what to make.”
“You just watched a few videos and you can jump straight into making something?” Jacqueline sounded amazed. “You’re not worried you’ll ruin it?”
“If it goes wrong, I can always have another go. There’s enough glass in here for a couple of bad tries.”
“But what if…” Jacqueline twisted her hands together. “What if it goes wrong every time? Or there’s one… design… that you really want to work, but it doesn’t, and you can’t try it again? Or… or maybe it’s the first time you’re having a go at it in a long, long time, and you don’t want to mess it up?” Her cheeks blazed.
Arlo gazed at her, lost for words. He’d always been extra sensitive to other shifters’ psychic signatures. He could feel emotions before he could see them, most of the time. Maybe that was why the kids had given him such a headache.
He’d never been good with humans, because he didn’t have that cheat-sheet emotional background when he was talking with them.
But even an idiot like him could tell Jacqueline probably wasn’t talking about stained glass windows anymore.
“It can be scary, trying something you haven’t done in a long time… or ever,” Arlo said carefully. “But I know that if something’s meant to work out, it will.” He paused. “And… I’m good with my hands.”