No, that would only have made things more complicated.
And the kiss hasn’t?the voice in her head asked.
Shush,she told the voice firmly as she went back to cleaning the parts Spencer had stripped out of the range cooker.
Instead of thinking about kisses, she should be thinking about Pine Cottage.
Today had been a good day. The electrician had signed off on the electrics, so no more candles, cooler, and juggling charging her phone in her car. This good news had led her to another decision. Since she hadn’t had to use the portion of her budget she’d set aside for the electrics, she’d finally given Spencer the go-ahead to order the new beam for the porch.
Spencer had headed over to the hardware store to order the new beam before they closed, and to pick up replacement parts for the range cooker. He reckoned he might have it up and running tomorrow.
Yes. That’s what she should be focusing on. Not the kiss.
But what a kiss!
Her cheeks flushed pink at the thought. And then flushed deeper as she heard Spencer’s truck pull up outside. She put her hands to her cheeks, but she needed a cold shower to get rid of the heat spreading across her skin at the thought of him.
She heard his boots on the porch and took a deep breath, willing her face to cool. Why did she feel so nervous? It was justSpencer. Just the man she’d been working alongside for days now.
Just the man she’d kissed last night.
The door opened, and there he stood. But instead of the hardware store bags she expected, he held a large wicker basket in one hand and what looked like a folded blanket in the other.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm in a way that made her stomach flip. “I got the beam ordered. It’ll be here by Thursday.”
“Great,” she managed, setting down the range part she’d been cleaning. “And the cooker parts?”
Spencer shifted his weight, the smallest hint of uncertainty crossing his face. “Got those too. But before we dive back into repairs...” He lifted the basket slightly. “I was thinking you might want to take a break. There’s a spot up on the lower slope that has the best view of sunset in all of Bear Creek.”
Meryl blinked, caught completely off guard. “You want to... go watch the sunset?”
“I thought you might like to see the mountains instead of the inside of an ancient range cooker.” His smile was tentative. “I stopped by the restaurant and picked up some food. Nothing fancy, just...”
“A picnic,” she finished for him.
“A practical picnic,” he corrected, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’ve been working non-stop since the electrician left. And with the good news about the wiring, I thought a small celebration was called for.”
Meryl looked around at the half-assembled range, the tools scattered across the counter, the lists she’d made for tomorrow. The kitchen was finally starting to feel like a room where actual cooking might happen someday, not just a disaster zone. Thewhole cottage felt different now that she knew the wiring wasn’t a complete nightmare.
He was right. They should celebrate.
And it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to go. It was the opposite. She wanted to go. Maybe too much. That was the problem. Not because she needed a break from the work—though she did—but because she wanted to be with him, away from the cottage, away from the lists and tools and decisions.
“I should probably change,” she said, looking down at her dusty clothes.
“You look fine,” Spencer said, then cleared his throat. “But if you want to change, I can wait.”
Ten minutes later, having hastily washed her face and changed into her cleanest jeans and a soft blue sweater, Meryl followed Spencer out to his truck.
They drove away from the cottage along back roads until he parked the truck in a small graveled area. Then they set off up a narrow trail that wound through the tall pines. The air felt different out here—sharper, fresher, full of resin and earth.
As the trail grew steeper, he held out his hand, and she took it, feeling that now familiar sense of connection. They didn’t speak, enjoying the sounds of the forest around them.
The trail curved upward, steeper now, and Meryl found herself focusing on her footing rather than the forest. Spencer slowed his pace to match hers, never rushing. It was as if they had all the time in the world.
Just when she was beginning to wonder how much further they had to go, the trees thinned, and the trail opened onto a natural shelf in the mountainside. Meryl stopped beside Spencer and caught her breath.
The view stretched for miles—mountains layered against mountains, their ridges softened by distance and the golden light of late afternoon. Bear Creek lay below, nestled in its valley, looking impossibly small from this height.
