LITMIR.BIZ

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the rain starts again,” he said into the phone, ignoring her questions. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

      He heard her sigh, but his mother surrendered to the inevitable. No doubt she’d grill him good later, face-to-face. “Fine. Just...take care of yourself, will you?”

      “Bye, Mom.”

      He disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket before turning to Jenny, studying her through the clear plastic protective glasses. She’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans. She’d pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. Beads of fine mist already glittered within the dark strands. Trendy, neon-green running shoes not at all suited to muddy manual labor encased her feet.

      She held up her perfectly manicured hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were on the phone. I’m looking for an extra pair of work gloves so I can help you.”

      “I can handle this.”

      “It will go faster if I pitch in.”

      He wasn’t so sure about that. She could prove to be more of a distraction than a help. But he could think of no way to decline the offer without coming across as a jerk. If he tried too obviously to avoid her, she might even think he’d never quite gotten over her.

      He cocked his chin toward the back of the house. “Extra work gloves and safety glasses are behind the seat in my truck. It isn’t locked.”

      He figured she’d tire out quickly and head back inside. Until then, he would keep her too busy to reminisce.

      He had the chain saw running by the time she returned wearing the too-large, leather-and-canvas gloves and an oversize pair of plastic safety goggles. He’d deliberately waited until she was out of sight to fire up the saw so she wouldn’t see him wince and curse when he pulled the starter cord. He had no intention of showing her how much discomfort he was in—not actual pain, but that would probably set in before the day ended. Didn’t matter. He wanted this road cleared as quickly as possible.

      Because the saw was so noisy, he communicated with shouts and hand motions, instructing her to stay at a safe distance while he cut, after which she could drag the smaller pieces off the road and into the ditch. Considering her formidable resolve, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Jenny threw herself into the job. It was dirty and sweaty work, but she pushed on gamely until her ponytail straggled against her damp neck, her clothes were muddy and her shirt had a small tear at the hem, perhaps from catching on a sharp branch. And still he had to force himself to concentrate on the potentially hazardous job at hand when his eyes wanted to turn in her direction instead. Even tousled and grubby—or perhaps especially so—something about her made his thoughts wander into dangerous and forbidden directions and brought back memories that heated his blood and hardened his groin.

      Didn’t mean anything, he assured himself. He was a reasonably healthy male in the middle of a dry spell, so it was only natural for him to react to an attractive, temptingly tousled woman.

      After two hours, she looked as though her energy was fading fast. He felt as though he’d been kicked in the shoulder by an angry horse. Turning off the saw, he set it on the ground and swiped at his sweat-beaded forehead with the back of his left hand. He’d removed several of the large limbs, but a few more needed to come off before he could even attempt to move the tree off the road. It was taking longer than he wanted to cut through the hard wood. He only hoped he had enough gas and oil on hand to finish the job.

      He still needed to figure out a way to pull the tree out of the roadway, but maybe he could think more clearly after taking something for pain. He knew better than to swallow prescription pills and then run a power saw, so he’d settle for over-the-counter remedies. He glanced at Jenny. “You need a break.”

      Even muddy, wet and wilted, she could skewer him with a lifted eyebrow. “I need a break?”

      “We need a break,” he conceded grudgingly.

      She nodded in satisfaction. “I just want to move this last branch.”

      She took hold of a leafy limb the size of a small tree and gave a tug. It didn’t budge. Gavin stood beside her, grabbing the branch with his left hand. Their gloved hands almost touched. He had only to shift his weight a little to be pressed against her from behind. She glanced up at him over her shoulder and their eyes locked. Hers dilated a bit; his probably did, too.

      He told himself again that some reactions were purely biological. And then quickly slid his hand down a couple inches from hers, ostensibly to get a better grip. “On three.”

      With his count, Jenny pulled so enthusiastically he nearly fell backward when the branch shot forward. He put one foot back to steady himself, and reached out automatically with his right hand to get a better grip. A grunt of pain escaped him before he could swallow it. He hoped Jenny hadn’t heard, but he should have known better. She didn’t say anything, but he saw the sympathy on her face when he glanced at her.

      He turned away. The one thing he had never wanted from Jenny Baer was pity. “Let’s go inside.”

      * * *

      Gavin insisted Jenny take the bathroom first to get cleaned up while he put on the kettle for tea. He was still making an effort to be a thoughtful host, she thought. Smiling a little, she closed herself in the bathroom, then glanced into the mirror. Her smile faded immediately. She reached hastily for a washcloth and a bar of soap.

      When she rejoined Gavin in the kitchen, she spotted a bottle of over-the-counter pain relievers by the sink that hadn’t been there earlier. His shoulder had to be giving him fits, but he hadn’t complained once and she didn’t think he wanted her to ask.

      “Thank you,” she said, accepting the mug he offered her. The tea was still too hot to drink, so she carried it to the table and took a seat to wait for it to cool a bit.

      “I checked the weather on my phone. Rain’s moving this way again, but maybe this round will pass through quickly.”

      “I hope so.”

      Gavin moved toward the bathroom, carrying his mug with him. “I’m going to wash up. Make yourself at home.”

      She waited until he was out of sight before she let out a sigh and allowed her shoulders to sag. Spending time with Gavin was both easier than she might have expected and harder than it should have been. She’d come here to make decisions about her future and instead had been slapped in the face by her past. Wasn’t that ironic?

      Needing a distraction, she reached for her phone. The signal was weak, but there was no one in particular she wanted to call. She’d texted her mother and Thad to let them know she’d arrived safely. She hadn’t mentioned that she wasn’t alone in the cabin. That had been a bit too complicated to explain to them by text or a quick, static-filled call.

      When Thad traveled, he called every evening at 6:00 p.m., so reliably that she could set her clock by his ring. It was an arrangement they’d worked out together as a way of managing their equally hectic schedules, making sure they didn’t miss connections. “Their thing,” Thad called it teasingly. He’d phoned at that time yesterday, just as she was trying to get away for the drive here. He hadn’t hidden his concern about her solitary vacation, but he’d added that he hoped she had a relaxing few days and returned ready to make plans for their promising future together.

      She’d always appreciated that Thad respected her choices, though sometimes she wondered fleetingly if it was mostly because his own life was so busy that he hardly had time to think about her issues. Still, he went out of his way to find time for their calls, proving he was willing to make compromises in their potential marriage, which was certainly important to her. After all, she and Gavin had broken up partially because neither had been willing to compromise their disparate goals and dreams. Wasn’t that only further evidence that a relationship based on logic and respect was more reliable than one based on passion and emotion?

      She refused to answer. She’d been stubbornly resisting the unhappy memories her surprise reunion with Gavin had stirred up, and she certainly wasn’t

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