Spencer ignored that and gave the window one last look before stepping back toward the porch. “I’ll deal with it later.”
Meryl raised an eyebrow. “Shall I add it to the list?”
“I already have.” He tapped the side of his head. “Mentally.”
“That sounds dangerous.” She glanced at her notebook.
“Only if you don’t trust my memory.”
She gave him a look that said she was still deciding, but instead of adding it to her list, she turned her attention to a stack of salvaged boards.
She trusts us,his bear said happily.
“Need a hand?” Spencer asked as Meryl wrestled with a long board.
She looked up, breathless and faintly annoyed. “I’m trying to move this before I trip over it.”
“Here.” He crossed the porch and reached for the board, his fingers brushing against hers. For a heartbeat, all he could think of was the way his skin tingled where they touched and the electricity coursing through his veins.
When he risked a glance at Meryl, her eyes had gone wide, and he knew she felt the same.
Then she broke contact and let go of the board. Without a word, because he did not trust himself to speak, Spencer lifted the board free, carrying it to the side of the porch where the keep pile was beginning to form.
“That was annoyingly easy,” she observed, her arms folded across her body. “For you.”
“That’s because you were trying to do it the difficult way,” he teased.
“The difficult way.” That earned him a look, but there was a spark of humor in it now. “It wouldn’t have been difficult if I had your muscles.”
She’s teasing us, too. Again,his bear said, delighted.
The work settled into a steadier rhythm after that. Meryl measured and sorted while Spencer cut and fitted. They moved around each other with less hesitation, passing tools back and forth, stepping aside at the right moment without needing to ask.
Then his stomach growled. Loud enough this time that even he could not pretend it hadn’t.
Meryl looked up from the board she was sanding and raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”
He rubbed his stomach. “I’m choosing to ignore it.”
“You might be able to, but it’s loud enough to frighten the birds.” She set her tools down. “I’ll make sandwiches.”
Before he could object, she had already gone inside.
Spencer went back to work, then paused and glanced at the front room window. He had watched Meryl fight with it more than once now. And he hated to see her struggle when the repair should have been relatively simple.
He fetched a screwdriver and a bit of wax from his toolbox and set to work. The latch had slipped just enough to make the sash catch every time it moved.
It only took him a few minutes to ease the screws out, reset the catch, and smooth the sticking edge. When he lifted the window again, it opened cleanly and settled where it should. The latch now shut with a satisfyingly smooth click when he closed it.
That was for her,his bear said.
Isn’t everything?Spencer asked.
Oh, yeah,his bear replied.
Meryl came back carrying a plate of sandwiches just as he stepped away from the window. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing this.” He nodded toward the sash. “Try it.”
