“Actually…” She tucked her hair behind her ear again. Yep—a nervous habit.
If Crew was anything, he was patient. Willow said that trait applied to the horses he worked with. Maybe it would transfer to a woman who was just as skittish.
Her green gaze fixed on his. “Would you mind if we stopped at the hardware store before we leave town? I need to pick something up.”
“I’ve got all day.” The words came easy, natural. “We don’t even have to go to the garden center. We can do anything you want.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and damn if that wasn’t the cutest thing he’d seen in a long time.
“So you won’t mind if we run back to my place and grab my dirty laundry, then hit the coin laundry.”
With a shake of his head, he chuckled. “I’m at your service.” He jerked a thumb toward the truck. “How much laundry do you got? Plenty of room in the bed.”
She ducked her head, a smile hitting her eyes before it ever touched her sweet lips. His breath that hitched before punched out of him now, leaving him standing there like an idiot with his hand still on the door.
“Just kidding, Crew. But I really would like to stop at the hardware store.” The glint in her eyes cooled suddenly, replaced by an emotion he couldn’t name.
He cleared his throat and shut the door, rounding the front of the truck before he could dwell on the way his stomach still flipped at the sight of her blush.
The hardware store smelled like sawdust and metal, familiar scents that had nothing to do with the woman he followed down the aisles, watching as she scanned the shelves with a focused intensity that made him wonder what she was looking for.
She stopped in front of a display of security systems, her fingers hovering over a wireless camera kit before moving to something more substantial.
Crew stepped closer, studying the box she’d picked up.
“That one needs to be hardwired.” He kept his tone casual even as questions started piling up in his mind. “You’d need to run cables through the walls.”
Fern bit her lip, and he caught a flash of something in her eyes—uncertainty and maybe frustration. “Oh.”
“I could help you install it.” The offer tumbled out before he’d fully thought it through. Then his brain caught up with his mouth, and he realized she probably met him at the greenhouse because she might not want him knowing where she lived. Might not trust him that far yet.
“I mean, if you want. No pressure. I just—I’ve done this kind of thing before. For my gramma’s place. And the ranch has cameras everywhere, so I know how to—” He was babbling. Actually babbling. He hadn’t babbled since he was six years old.
He snapped his mouth shut.
Fern looked up at him, and for a beat, he couldn’t read her expression. Then her smile came, soft and genuine. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
Crew wasn’t used to feeling much. Contentment some days, annoyance others.
So when an easy warmth trickled through his chest, he wasn’t prepared for it.
“Okay. Good.” He studied her for another beat, wondering how she’d react to him prodding for more information. “Is there some reason you need cameras?”
“Oh, you know.” She tossed him a smile that was too quick. “To make sure I see when packages arrive.”
Fern selected a kit and tucked it under her arm, and Crew followed her to the checkout, his mind working over her blasé response and what she might be hiding.
He wanted to help her. And make sure that whatever put that hint of worry in her eyes when she looked at security systems didn’t hurt her again.
And that realization hit him sideways—he wasn’t just going through the motions anymore, wasn’t just doing ranchchores and checking boxes in therapy. He was reaching out. Connecting. Taking a step toward something that felt…an awful lot like a step toward healing.
They got back in the truck. To put her at ease, he cast around for some story to share with her.
“You may have heard I work with the horses on the ranch.”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t heard, but it sounds like fun.”
“You like horses?”
