LITMIR.BIZ

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I won’t be able to hear Tyler if he needs me. And I can’t have him right with me, because I don’t want him anywhere near that thing.”

      “I’ll show you how to use the handsaw.” He didn’t hesitate to offer the assurance, aware himself of the child on the porch, breaking ice off the fir boughs she’d collected for a wreath. “But you should know how to use this, too. We’ll be where you can keep an eye on him.”

      He watched Rory look from the wicked-looking chain saw blade to the long tangle of ice-coated limbs that had split away from the maple on the far side of the drive. A slash of exposed, raw wood on the heavy trunk mirrored the ragged tear on the thick branch where it had fallen from the tree’s side.

      He’d already cut up the branch that had fallen atop it with the now-silent saw he’d borrowed from her neighbor. He’d heard the saw’s droning buzz when he’d come outside a couple of hours ago to fix Frosty and put a little physical distance between himself and his charge. Being near her in the confines of the house had left him too edgy, too restless. Outdoors, he at least had the buffer of space.

      His glance slid from her burgundy fleece headband and jacket to the hem of her jeans. Since she’d kept herself occupied away from him for the better part of the morning, he suspected she’d been after a little distance, too.

      Apparently having reassessed her options, and with her immediate concern addressed, she anchored the toe of her black boot in the loop of the saw’s handle. “So,” she gamely began, “I start it by putting my foot here?” she asked. “And pulling on this?”

      Catching her arm as she reached for the starter pull, he turned her in the churned-up gravel to face him. “You start by putting on these.”

      He tugged off his heavy leather gloves, then slipped the clear safety goggles Ed Shumway also loaned him from around his neck.

      Teaching her how to use a saw hadn’t been on the agenda he’d outlined for himself that morning, but she’d wanted to know how to use one to clear the property after it thawed. Since he didn’t much care for the thought of her outside sawing and hauling limbs by herself, he’d already planned to have the mess cleared for her. This wasn’t the only storm she’d likely ever encounter, though. And he wouldn’t be around once she was on her financial feet. If she was going to be self-sufficient, it was his job to give her the tools she’d need to make that happen.

      Reaching toward her, he looped the goggles’ wide elastic strap around the back of her head. Not giving her time to take off her gloves to adjust the bright orange band, he did it himself and settled the clear skilike goggles in place.

      “Keep in mind that the barter system still works for a few things around here, too,” he informed her, tucking back a strand of the dark hair he’d dislodged from the fleece covering her ears. “Someone should be willing to take care of all these trees for you in exchange for a load or two they can sell or use for firewood.”

      Far too conscious of the softness of her skin, the silk of her hair, he deliberately dropped his hand.

      Pulling his gloves from where he’d tucked them under his arm, he jerked them back on and nodded to the saw. “Now you can start it.”

      Rory braced herself. Not so much for what she was about to do, but because everything about this man had her feeling so off balance.

      He’d given her his jacket a while ago. He stood there now in his heavy charcoal pullover and jeans, seeming totally unfazed by the cold and the almost familiar ease with which he’d touched her.

      “Hold the blade straighter,” he called over the din of the idling motor. With his broad chest pressed to her back, he reached his arms around her, placed his gloved hands over hers and adjusted her angle.

      “Ready?” he asked, his breath warm through the soft knit covering her ear.

      Conscious of his body enclosing hers, she gave a tense little nod.

      She wasn’t sure which disconcerted her more, the thirteen pounds of suddenly screaming machine, or the man surrounding her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself with it. With the blade engaged, metal teeth spinning, the chain bit ice. A quick spray of what looked like snow and wood chips flew.

      “Keep your grip steady.” He spoke near her cheek now, his body still at her back as he eased his hands to her shoulders. “You need to keep it from bucking back if you hit a knot. Keep it under control.”

      Control, she thought. She hadn’t felt “in control” in ages.

      “Like this?” she called, handles in a death grip, her eyes glued to the blade sinking into the wood.

      “Just like that,” he called back and, just like that, the weight of the free end of the limb cracked it downward and the blade went through.

      A second of disbelief was replaced with a grin as she swung toward him.

      “Don’t!” His hand shot forward, the side of his face bumping the corner of her goggles an instant before his hand caught hers to hold the saw in place. Bent against her, he’d turned his head to hers, his lips inches from the startled part of her own.

      “The brake,” he said. With a small movement of his hand, the throttle dropped back to idle. “You need to set it as soon as you finish your cut. It’s safer that way.”

      She realized now why he’d stayed behind her. Had she swung around, she could have caught him with the blade in his thigh.

      Taking the idling machine from her, he shut off the motor, set the saw on the ground.

      In the sudden silence, she could hear her heart hammering in her ears. Shaken from the start he’d given her, horrified by what she could have done to him, she dropped her glance to the short placket on his pullover as he rose and turned to her.

      “Erik, I’m so sorry.”

      His forehead furrowed as he pulled her hand from her mouth and lifted the orange band at her temples. Removing the goggles, he looped them over the fabric covering his forearm.

      “Hey. It’s okay.” Hating how he’d killed her quick smile, he touched his gloved finger to her high cheekbone. It was there that the goggles would have bumped. “We hadn’t gotten to that part.” Another second and they would have, he thought, searching her pale features. He just hadn’t expected her to get excited about felling a limb. “Next time you’ll remember.”

      He couldn’t feel the smoothness of her skin through the thick suede. He could imagine it, though. Just as he could too easily imagine so many other things he knew he shouldn’t be thinking about her.

      Detachment wasn’t an option at the moment. Not with her looking so frightened by what she could have done. “Right?”

      Beneath his hand, he felt her faint nod. What he noticed most, though, was how her head turned toward his hand, as if somewhere in her subconscious she craved that unfettered contact, too.

      She’d done the same thing last night, right about the time he’d been thinking about reacquainting himself with the feel of her mouth. Heaven knew how tempted he’d been to do just that. But he acknowledged now what he hadn’t then. It hadn’t just been complications with her he wanted to avoid. He hadn’t wanted her thinking of anyone but him when he kissed her. And last night had been far more about easing the doubts that had haunted her for so long than whatever it was that kept him from caring about how easy she was to touch.

      Rory watched his glance shift over her face. She had no idea what he was thinking, what it was vying with the concern so evident there, but from the way his eyes narrowed on her cheek, he seemed to be looking for a bruise.

      “It didn’t hurt,” she told him, praying she hadn’t caused him one as she unconsciously lifted her hand to his temple.

      “I don’t see a mark,” he murmured. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t have a bruise later. You should get some ice on it.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “There’s plenty of it.”

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