The bell tinkled, announcing their arrival. A couple older guys who were leaning against the counter looked up.
“Lookin’ for anything special?” one craggy older man called out.
“Door locks,” Gabe answered.
“Aisle three.” He went back to talking, and Gabe led the way to the selection.
He and Felicity stood side by side, scanning the display. Felicity reached for a package with bold letters printed across the top. EASY INSTALL.
She made a soft noise. “I can do this. Doesn’t look too hard.”
He eyed her. “You can,” he said. “But you don’t have to do everything yourself.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
He gentled his tone to one he might use with his young niece—the way Carson did back in the wrecked bookshop. “You’re capable, Felicity. Anyone can see that. But I’m here too. I don’t have anywhere else I need to be right now.”
Her throat worked, and an emotion he couldn’t name flickered behind her eyes. They weren’t just any blue—they were the color of the pale mist he’d seen clinging to the peaks of the mountains at daybreak.
He plucked the lock from her hand with a quirk of his lips. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know. I can actually use tools.”
That earned a real smile from her, and he took it as a win.
“I’ll pay you.”
“No, you won’t. We’re not doing that either.”
She didn’t argue, even though he saw her lips part and then snap shut.
He drifted down the aisle, searching for another item. He grabbed a two-pack of floodlight cameras too.
“What’s that for?”
“They’re to install on the eave of the building.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I only have an eight-foot ladder.”
He huffed a small laugh. “I’m six feet tall. I can reach.” Firmer, he said, “You’re not getting up on the ladder. I’ve got this.”
Back at the shop, he didn’t waste time. He secured the first floodlight above the front entrance, adjusting the angle until the entire doorway was covered. Then he hefted the ladder onto his shoulder and carried it around back to install the other.
Felicity hovered nearby as he worked, arms wrapped around herself. He recognized what she was doing—she was holding on to what little control she had left.
“Can I do anything?” she asked, biting her lip.
God, she was even cuter from this angle. She and Honor shared the same pale brown hair color. Instead of Honor’s thick mass of curls, Felicity’s had a gentle wave that caught a reddish cast in the sunlight.
“I got it.” Holding the camera light in place with one hand, he withdrew the screwdriver from his back pocket to attach the device to the building.
“I’m not totally without skills,” she called up to him. “I’ve done a lot of DIYs around the shop and my house too.”
He cast her a glance. “I’m not surprised. You’re strong and independent.”
Her eyes flicked up to him. “How do you know that?”
“You’re a business owner. I also know how strong Honor is.”
She directed her gaze to the pavement. Though she didn’t respond, he got the feeling she wasn’t displeased by what he said.
