Closing the laptop, she moved to the window. Spencer was on the porch, examining one of the support posts they’d replaced. The morning sun caught in his dark hair, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders as he crouched to check something at the base of the post.
Last night, those shoulders had been covered in thick fur. Those hands had been massive paws.
And yet, watching him now, all she could see was Spencer, the man who had patiently rebuilt her porch, installed salvaged brass fixtures, and kissed her in the kitchen as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The man who had shown her his deepest secret and given her the space to decide what to do with it.
She opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. Spencer looked up immediately.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“I responded to the email,” she said. “I’m going to talk to them next week.”
He nodded, his expression careful. “That makes sense.”
“Spencer...” She moved closer, needing him to understand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”
“I know. You take all the time you need.”
“But I need you to know that...” Her voice caught.
Spencer looked at her for a long moment, then gave the smallest nod.
“I know,” he said.
That should have made it easier.
Instead, Meryl stood there on the porch, feeling the distance between them and not knowing how to close it.
Chapter Eighteen – Spencer
After last night, this morning should be perfect.
It was not.
In fact, it was the opposite of perfect.
Spencer was still in Pine Cottage when the second email came through about Meryl’s incredible job offer, and he knew instantly that things had changed.
He watched Meryl’s face as she read the message on her phone, the way her expression didn’t exactly change but somehow tightened, sharpened at the edges. Her shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly.
“They want me,” she said, keeping her voice controlled, but he knew her well enough by now to hear the excitement she’d tried to conceal. “They really want me.”
Spencer set down the trim piece he’d been measuring. “The design firm?”
“Atelier.” Meryl nodded, scrolling through the message again. “They’re offering a video call tomorrow to discuss details. They say they’re excited about my ‘particular aesthetic sensibility’ and think I’d be a perfect fit for the project lead.”
She’s already pulling away,his bear growled inside him.Look at her. She’s already halfway gone.
Spencer pushed the bear’s panic down. “That’s... impressive. You’re impressive.”
“It’s a big opportunity.” Meryl set her phone down and turned toward the shelving they’d been working on all morning. “We should get this finished.”
The shift in her tone was subtle but unmistakable. Something businesslike had entered her voice, a briskness that hadn’t been there before the email arrived. Spencer recognized it from their first meeting—the efficient, no-nonsense approach of someone who had a timeline to maintain.
“We’ve still got the staining to do after we hang them,” Spencer reminded her.
“Actually,” Meryl said, examining the raw pine shelves leaning against the wall, “I think we can just seal them clear. It’ll be faster, and they’ll still be protected.”
