“Have you eaten?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food.”
Meryl sat back on her heels and gave him a look that was half exasperation, half amusement. “I don’t remember hiring you as a nutritionist along with a carpenter.”
“Comes free with the package.” He reached into his toolbox and pulled out a paper bag. “I brought muffins from the bakery. Blueberry. They’re still warm.”
Her hesitation was brief, but he caught it, that moment of surprised delight followed by the careful rebuilding of her walls. Walls that seemed a little lower each day.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the bag. “That was thoughtful.”
See? She likes it when we provide,his bear said smugly.
She’s hungry, and no one can resist blueberry muffins,Spencer countered, though he could not deny he liked seeing her happy over the simple things in life.
“Coffee?” Meryl asked, then rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I asked, since you never turn down a good cup of coffee.”
“You know me so well,” Spencer replied, and ducked his head as his cheeks flushed pink.
She does. Day by day, she is getting to know you. But one day soon she needs to get to know me too,his bear agreed.
One day soon,Spencer promised.
While Meryl went inside, he looked over what still needed doing. They might have made the porch safe, but it still needed plenty of work.
“Shall we sit?” Meryl asked when she came back with the muffins and two steaming mugs of coffee. She nodded toward the newly repaired section of the porch. “This is quickly becoming my favorite spot. The views are incredible.”
“The mountains and trees never get old, no matter how many times I see them,” Spencer said as he sat beside her on the porch and took the mug she handed him.
The coffee was hot and strong. The blueberry muffin was still warm in the middle. For a few minutes, they simply sat there in the morning sun with the scent of pine in the air and the cottage behind them, not talking much, not needing to.
It should have felt awkward.
Instead, it felt far too easy.
Meryl broke off a piece of muffin and looked out toward the overgrown garden. “This is not how I pictured my week going.”
“No?”
She glanced sideways at him. “I definitely didn’t picture sharing breakfast on a half-fixed porch with a man who keeps appearing with tools and opinions, but here we are.”
That made him smile into his coffee. “I try to be useful.”
“You are useful,” she said, then seemed to hear herself and added, “Annoyingly so.”
She likes us being here,his bear said, delighted.
Spencer chose not to answer that.
Instead, he looked at the cottage, at the patched boards and weathered stone catching the light. “It’s starting to look better.”
Meryl followed his gaze. “I suppose it is.” She paused. “But it’s a slow process. Slower than I thought. Every time I seem to take a step forward, I unearth something else and take two steps back.”
“Not everything needs to be rushed,” he said, staring out at the mountains. “If you slow down, the process becomes more enjoyable.”
“I didn’t come here to enjoy the process,” she replied sharply.
