She was about to take his empty can out to the kitchen when her phone on the table began to buzz and move about the surface as if it had a mind of its own. ‘Funny name,’ he said noting the display.
She paled. Looked at the phone and then looked at him. ‘It’s the company I was telling you about. The one that was interested in me for a job. It’s as though they heard us talking.’
‘Answer it, don’t miss your opportunity,’ he urged. And as she clicked the call to answer, he mouthed that he’d see her at the markets in the morning.
Nate left the cottage and swore when he climbed into his pick-up because no matter what might be between them, even if it was only friendship, Morgan was leaving the village and that meant no matter how much he came to see his dad, he wasn’t going to be seeing much more of this woman he’d grown to know and care about.
16
Nate loved the summer months with their endless evenings; he went straight into his workshop when he got back to Oak Cottage. Right now, Morgan was likely discussing a job offer that would change her life, and he needed a focus.
Nate felt a welcome catharsis going into the workshop these days. And never before had he needed his talents to be a distraction as much as he did this evening. He inspected the side table, which had had one coat of varnish and didn’t need another, so it was time to start something new. This time, he was making a box to store firewood – it wasn’t the right time of the year at all but out-of-season items could be impulse purchases. The idea had come to mind this morning when he’d stubbed his toe on the log basket next to the fireplace in the lounge.
Branston followed Nate back and forth as he sorted through the wood he wanted. There were some beautiful pieces he’d collected over the years, some he remembered had started their life as floorboards and were set for the skip following a local house renovation, others were pieces from the shelves he’d once had in his bedroom here until they’d been replaced with a big wardrobe for more storage. He put each piece on the worktable in turn. ‘You’re gonna trip me up if you’re not careful, Branston.’ He stopped then and crouched down to fuss the dog. ‘What’s with you? You’ve had plenty of walks today and you just walked home from the pub with Dad. Is it because I was gone for hours? Is that it? Did someone else demand my attention? You know I love you the most, right?’
And then he heard someone laughing and looked up to see Morgan hovering in the side doorway.
He stood up. ‘Didn’t see you there.’ But he was more than pleased she’d come and by the looks of it, so was Branston, judging by the wagging tail and his approach to say hello. Mind you, the dog would be pleased to see anyone; it didn’t have to be a woman who sent shivers across Nate’s body and blood rushing to places he shouldn’t mention.
‘Evidently not,’ she replied with a grin. ‘All that lovey-dovey talk, who would’ve thought?’
‘I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.’
‘Figured,’ she answered. She fussed over Branston but then pulled something from her bag and passed it to him. ‘You left this at mine.’
He patted the back pocket of his jeans, obviously found it empty and remembered taking his wallet out and putting it on the side table at Forget-Me-Not Cottage earlier so it didn’t go missing. Seemed a wise idea at the time; not so much now given he’d mislaid it anyway. ‘Thanks. I didn’t even think about it, but I would’ve missed it when I tried to buy myself a coffee at the markets in the morning.’ He put it on a shelf out of the way.
She was looking all around her, taking in the space. ‘So this is where all the action happens?’
Her comment pleased him. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
‘It smells like you.’ And then she caught herself. ‘I mean, smells like your things, your wooden things.’ She rolled her eyes more at herself than him and turned away, continuing to take in the wooden items piled at one side, the raw planks of wood leaning against a wall, the collection of pieces on the workbench. ‘What are you making?’
‘Thought I’d make a firewood box.’
‘Don’t let me stop you.’
‘You don’t mind me carrying on?’
‘Of course not; I’d like to watch.’
And it felt right to carry on while she was here. Otherwise he might not be able to control what his hands wanted to do right now, most of which involved pulling her against him and touching her face to see whether her skin was as soft as he thought it might be.
He opened up one of the other cupboards at the side of the room. ‘Pretty sure I have some rope in here for the handles.’ To explain, he added, ‘I bought some rope to make a swing for a mate’s kid and never got around to it.’
‘The wood you’re using is beautiful.’ She’d left Branston and gone over to the workbench to inspect the materials more closely.
Nate pulled out a length of rope that had been coiled for storage and somehow worked its way to the back of the cupboard behind a plastic, sectioned box containing nails in an assortment of sizes.
‘Are you putting it on the stall tomorrow?’
‘Next week, I think. The glue will need to dry properly, I’d want to make sure it’s ready for sale, try loading it with logs myself to test it out, that sort of thing.’
‘Sounds wise.’ She met his gaze. ‘You’ve sold a lot of your stock.’
‘I’ve made quite a bit and next week, I’ll be able to make a hefty donation to the Parkinson’s charity that means a lot to Dad and me.’
‘You’re donating all your profits?’
