I didn't push. He'd tell me more if he wanted to.
"She'd be proud of this," I said.
"Hope so."
We sat in silence, watching the dogs. The air was cold, but the sun was warm on my face.
"You're good at this," I said, looking out at the house. "All of it."
"So are you."
I glanced at him. "I don't build houses."
"No. You built a clinic." He took a sip of coffee. "Everyone talks about it. How you took over from your dad, made it into something bigger. That takes work."
"I had help."
"But you made the choices." He took another sip of coffee, like that settled it.
I didn't know what to say to that.
We sat in silence, watching the dogs. The air was cold, but the sun was warm on my face.
"More coffee?" he said.
I nodded.
He went inside and came back with the pot, refilled both our mugs, and sat back down beside me. A little closer this time.
Daisy wandered over and flopped down at my feet. Scout followed, collapsing beside her.
"They're good together," Caleb said.
"Yeah. They are."
We drank our coffee and watched the dogs sleep. The silence between us felt easy, unhurried.
It was the best I'd felt in days.
By the time we headed back to the truck, the sun was lower, the shadows long across the yard. The dogs were filthy and exhausted, tongues lolling.
Daisy jumped in and curled up on the seat, Scout following. Caleb held the door for me.
"Thanks for showing me all this," I said.
"Thanks for coming."
There was a pause. He shifted his weight, looked at the truck, then back at me.
"So," he said. Then stopped.
I waited.
"Next Saturday," he said. "If you want. We could—" He gestured vaguely at the house. "I'll be working on the living room. You could come by. Or not. If you're busy."
This man could build an entire house from the ground up, but asking me out made him stumble over his words.
"Caleb," I said.
