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I don’t notice him until I power down the saw and set it aside to stack the cut section on the pile I’m forming.

“You’re enjoying this,” he observes.

“Tremendously,” I confirm, grinning as I rub my aching biceps.

It’s fun work, but not without physical effort. My arms are getting a workout they’re not used to.

He glances over at my pile. “Got quite a bit done. Ready to take a break? Go check out your bed, it’s done, but I don’t know exactly where you want it, so you may want to go have a look. I can start chopping these smaller so they fit your stove.”

Sounds good to me, I wasn’t looking forward to swinging the axe, so I don’t mind passing on that task. But I don’t want to abuse his kindness.

“Are you sure? Don’t you have to work? You’ve already done so much, I don’t want to claim your time.”

He steps close, lifts the unflattering bright orange helmet off my head, and wipes some wood dust off my cheek.

“I checked in with my partner and she’s got everything under control. I’ll cover tomorrow. You go do your bedroom, I’ve got this.”

Then he drops a hard kiss on my lips and turns to my wood pile.

But when I start walking to the house, I hear him call after me.

“And for the record, you can claim as much of my time as you like.”

I have a little dance in my step as I head inside, where I quickly wash up in the bathroom before I get busy organizing my bedroom furniture.

I try the bed against every available wall space before I finally settle on the wall opposite the door, so the right side of the bed—my preferred side—is closest to the dormer window. I can imagine myself waking up in the morning, and the first thing I see is the beautiful view of the mountains.

Walking up to the window, I glance out and catch a glimpse of Rick by the barn. Despite the chilly mountain air, he discarded the sweatshirt he’d been wearing earlier and is left in nothing more than an undershirt. A sheen of sweat is visible on a nice set of shoulders as he lifts his strong arms and swings the axe high over his head.

I lean my body against the side of the dormer and settle in to watch him, when the sound of an approaching vehicle suddenly draws my attention to the driveway.

Chapter 13

Rick

* * *

I keep half an eye on the vehicle pulling up to the house, as I stack the last of the logs in the old wheelbarrow I found inside the shed.

When Jacob Kerrigan gets out, his eyes are zooming in on me. The man doesn’t miss much.

Grabbing my sweatshirt off a rusty nail sticking out of one of the barn’s old boards, I shake it out before pulling it over my head. Then I grab the handles on the wheelbarrow and roll it toward the porch, where Dana’s father appears to be waiting.

I’ve exchanged a few words with the man at The Kerrigan on occasion. Nice guy, friendly enough in his role as pub owner, but I’m not sure whether he feels as benevolent to me in the role of protective father. That’s clearly the mode he is in right now.

“Is there something I should know about?” he barks at me when I get close enough.

“Pops! What the heck?” Dana comes storming out on the porch, her eyes pinning her father with an angry glare. “Rick is giving me a hand.”

Jacob never takes his eyes off me.

“Where is Nate? Wasn’t he supposed to be helping you?”

“Yes, he and Rick both did. Nate just left to pick up his daughter. What has gotten into you?”

I’m not about to wade into a family spat so, while the two of them hash it out, I grab an armload of logs and carry them up the porch steps, starting a pile on the right side of the porch against the wall.

“Don’t put the wood pile on your porch, you may as well leave your front door open and invite the critters in,” the older man grumbles. “Besides, what do you need all that wood for? Didn’t you say you were getting propane for the furnace?”