“Well . . .” Mitch glanced at Zach, then looked out at the fields. They could use the help. Every pair of hands counted, especially now that he was going to tackle the house, too. And having another boy around might help raise Dylan’s spirits. “Okay. If you’re interested, we’d be grateful and happy to have you, Zach. You’re welcome to start today if you’d like. Dylan and Sadie are in the kitchen, about to eat breakfast. Pancakes sound good to you?”
Zach stood a bit straighter. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Mitch reached back, opened the screen door, then tipped his chin toward the entrance. “Go ahead. Dylan’s in there, and I’ll be right behind you.”
He waited until Zach had left, then turned back to Charles. “Thanks. I appreciate the help and your understanding.”
Charles nodded. “How is Emmy?”
“Better today.” He looked away, watched the broad leaves on the oak trees rustle in the breeze, the sunlight flash sharply between the healthy branches. “There’s no predicting tomorrow, though. I’m staying for a while, until we see how things turn out.”
“If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to call on me.” After Mitch thanked him, Charles walked back to the porch rail, the floor creaking beneath his steps. “That’s a good-looking crop you’ve got growing out there. You’ve put in a lot of hours.”
“Kristen too. Think she planted more acres than I did.”
Charles glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. “She turned out to be a find, didn’t she? Becoming Emmy’s right-hand and speaking up for her at the bypass meeting?”
Mitch smiled, recalling the way Kristen had jumped in Emmy’s corner at the meeting. How she’d consoled Sadie in the backseat of the truck yesterday. How soothing her tone had been at Emmy’s bedside last night, and how she’d offered him gentle comfort on the porch. His skin still tingled with the memory of her soft touch.
After Charles left, Mitch stood on the porch for a few minutes more, studying the balusters, railings, and Gothic trim and estimating the costs to refurbish them. He tried to focus on calculating measurements and adding up hours of labor. But his mind kept returning to Kristen’s warm but wary gaze. The genuine concern and sincerity in her voice. At that moment, he realized that her tender kiss and whispered words of comfort had slipped inside his heart, making him long to be near her, to see her, to hear her. To just know she was here, partnering with him in more ways than one to make this place new again.
Kristen came out here to hide....
Yeah. She had. But thank God, the universe, or random luck, he’d found her. And he was damn well going to hold on.
* * *
Certain parts of Mitch should be outlawed during Kristen’s working hours of five in the morning to nine at night. Like the flex of his strong biceps as he lifted lumber. The firm, masterful movements of his long fingers as he guided wood planks along a table saw. The thoughtful set of his sensual mouth as he evaluated the detail on a freshly milled porch baluster.
And . . . especially . . . that gorgeous rumble of laughter that had been bursting from him more and more often over the past two weeks, drawing her ears and eyes and drumming up deliciously sinful urges that pulsed throughout her entire body.
Just like, oh, now.
“Fine.”
She jerked upright from her crouch on the front porch, bumped her head on the top rail, and peered up at Mitch. He was standing and smiling down at her, legs staggered, a drill in one big hand, the late afternoon sunlight slanting sharp at his back.
Fine? Oh, boy, fine didn’t quite do him justice. Alluring, magnetic, irresistible? Those were more accurate descriptions.
“I said,” Mitch remarked, squatting beside her, “I think the balusters turned out fine.” He cupped the back of her head and rubbed the spot above her temple that had bumped the rail. “Don’t you think so?”
“Yes.” It was hard to look away from his gorgeous blue eyes, and the slow grin spreading across his face prompted her to lean closer. “They’re beautiful.”
And that was an understatement. In the span of a handful of days, Mitch had worked wonders on the front porch. He’d used every spare bit of daylight left over after checking crops for nutrient needs or signs of damaging diseases and spraying for weeds to dismantle the porch rail, then repair each weather-damaged inch of it with fresh materials. Any original portions that were salvageable, he’d saved. Any that couldn’t be resurrected had been replaced with pieces he’d painstakingly crafted for a perfect match.
At times, he’d stayed outside well past midnight, laboring under the bright flood of a halogen work light and flashing that sexy smile at her when she’d jerked awake after nodding off while priming wood on the front steps.
“You’re very talented,” she said, eyeing the sensual sweep of his bottom lip.
His smile widened. “I had a lot of great help. Matter of fact, there was this gorgeous woman that showed up every night and worked harder than I did.”
“Sometimes.” She laughed, cheeks burning. “I had a tendency to sleep on the job.”
“You had good reason, what with working in the fields all day, helping Emmy in the garden and the kids prepare for final exams at school.” He bent and brushed his mouth across her temple. The throb of hunger in his deep voice made her tingle when he said, “Besides, the sight of you certainly kept me awake.”
Heat swirled in her belly. She grinned, dropped her paintbrush back in the pail at her side, then laid her hand on his thick thigh. “Hmm. That’s good to know, seeing as how you’ve disturbed my sleep quite a bit.” She kissed his cheek, then whispered by his ear, “You have this mischievous habit of sneaking into my dreams.”
/> He laughed. “Good ones, I hope?”