“He’s going to be covered in sawdust,” she said. “It’s basically a match made in texture heaven.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You’re banned from further commentary.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I think you should go. Maybe the two of you will become good friends. Maybe you’ll get impaled by a nail gun. Either way, it’s better than you staring at your emails all night.”
He almost argued, but then he remembered Noah’s hand on his shoulder. Noah steadying the ladder.
Noah brushing a pine needle from his jacket as though it mattered.
“Fine,” he said. “If I’m not back by ten, assume I’ve run off to join the elves.”
“Rude. Your family is right here.” She pointed to the left. “And the workshop is thataway.”
He glared at her. “Is it okay if I finish my soup first? And maybe change my clothes?”
She beamed. “That’s a good idea. You wanna make a good impression, right?”
Eli gave up. She was a hopeless case. Then her words registered.
“You want us to be more than good friends, don’t you?”
She bit her lip. “A girl can dream, can’t she?” Her eyes gleamed. “And you have to admit he’s a handsome dude.”
Eli finished his soup. “I’m outta here. Andnotbecause I’m in any hurry to see Noah, but because it’s better than the idea of you going through my clothing as if you’re vetting me before I go on a date.” Another glare. “And this isnota date, all right?”
Aileen might not have said the words out loud, but that didn’t mean Eli couldn’t hear them. Something about the lady protesting too much.
He went back outside into the chill air, and headed in the right direction.
Carter Custom Builds was a squat building with a wide garage door and a smaller side entrance. Light spilled out from the frosted windows, warm and golden against the navy night.
Eli shoved his hands in his pockets and stood there for a second, breathing in the smell of cold air and faint sawdust.
This is fine. You’re going to help, that’s all. Normal adult social interaction. Not a date. Not anything.
His heartbeat didn’t get the memo.
He knocked on the side door.
“Come in!” a voice called.
He stepped inside and was immediately hit by the smell of wood, coffee, and maybe a hint of cinnamon. Bright overhead lamps lit up the workshop. Wood planks leaned against one wall, and clamps and tools hung from another. A large workbench dominated the center, cluttered but organized, like chaos with a system.
Noah stood at the bench, a pencil tucked behind one ear. He wore an open plaid shirt over a black tee, the sleeves rolled. He glanced up when Eli entered and smiled.
Eli’s heart did that stupid, traitorous flip again.
“Hey,” Noah said. “You came.”
“You asked.” Eli tried not to trip over his own tongue. “And my sister threatened me.”
“That sounds like her. Come in and close the door, or we’ll both freeze to death.”
Eli shut the door, shrugging off his coat. “This is cool,” he said, scanning the space. “Very ‘rugged artisan’ of you.”
“Don’t start,” Noah said, his voice laced with amusement. “I’m one Etsy listing away from being insufferable.”
Eli wandered over to the workbench. Several wooden panels were laid out: arches, window-like frames, and one enormous cutout of what looked like a faux shop front.
