Page 57 of Kindling
He let Andy go, and his fingers curled around Harper’s so that he could snatch the hammer away. “Let’s not play with heavy objects, please.”
She huffed, but didn’t try and grab the tool back, instead picking up an abandoned paint roller from the floor. “This?”
“That would actually be a big help.” Andy swiped their shaggy fringe from their eyes, patting Harper’s shoulder appreciatively. “I’ll give you a hefty discount as soon as we reopen. How’s that?”
Harper couldn’t help but raise her hand, waiting until Fraser begrudgingly high-fived her. “Great! I was totally not expecting that! Thank you!”
“She totally was, and that’s why she’s here.” But Fraser’s mutter was distracted, his brows furrowed as he examined the non-door he’d just fallen through. “Jack’s usually great at this stuff.”
Andy tugged the ties of their black hoodie tighter. “Andyou’reusually great at not abandoning people in need.When Jack realised you weren’t coming back with our lunch, he decided to call it a day as well.”
Fraser cast Andy a grave look, and Harper took a wary step back. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like they were joking anymore, and she was certain that the rough edge of Fraser’s grimace was laced with pure guilt.
“I’m sorry, Andy. Truly,” Fraser said, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I let you down, but I’ll make up for it.”
Andy’s face remained stony as they shoved their hands into their pockets. “I can’t do this without you and Jack.”
“And you won’t,” he promised.
Harper didn’t know what to do. She felt like she should have been apologising, too, but what for? She hadn’t asked Fraser to search for her yesterday. She hadn’t known that her going on a hike would lead tothis.
Wasn’t this just part of life? People let each other down sometimes. People got busy and dropped the ball. Harper couldn’t count all the meetings she’d cancelled, friends she’d forgotten to reply to over the years.
But it seemed like nobody expected that of Fraser.
Nobody expected him to be human.
She cleared her throat, picking up the tin of orchid white paint. “So, where do you want me?”
“Erm… There.” Andy looked around before choosing a patch on the faded blue back wall.
Wordlessly, Harper walked over and stationed the paint beside her feet on a large towel. She grabbed a tray and poured some out into it, then stilled for a moment as an image flickered in her mind.
If Fraser ever revealed his secret hobby, his furniture could go here. People would see it and ask about it, generating more interest, more business. In a townfullof small businesses, such unique furniture would add lots of rustic charm – the kind of charm she’d come here for. Charm many tourists would want to see, too. She glanced over her shoulder at Fraser, surprised at how familiar his sturdy presence and chiselled features felt to her now. He didn’t notice her attention, didn’t look up from correcting the hinges on the door. Just like when he was chopping wood, he remained completely focused, a bead of sweat already glistening in his hairline.
Harper’s stomach swooped. It hurt to imagine that he would always be embarrassed of his art because of his father. She wanted more for him than just helping people out. His work was noble, but he had so much passion to give, and nobody knew but her.
He was sort of magnificent.
She was sort of falling for him.
That thought made her feel like she was slipping into a deep, dark hole, so she turned around quickly and got to work. She found a relaxing rhythm with each stroke of paint, though her arm quickly began to ache. Andy paced, watching them like a hawk between nailing down a chair rail on one of the already painted walls. Soon, the broken door was secured, and Harper saw relief seep from Fraser. He began applying primer to the next door, veins snaking beneath sinewy, tattooed forearms.
Yep. She was definitely falling. She knew because, in the time it had taken him to fix a door, she’d barely covered half a wall.
Andy sidled up beside her, and she quickly returned to looking busy. Still, she knew she’d been caught, and her face burned.
“I won’t hold it against you. You wouldn’t be the first woman to swoon over Fraser and his mega muscles.” Andy nudged her in the ribs with a sharp elbow, a sly grin curling beneath their lip ring.
“I’m not swooning. I don’t swoon,” she lied, suddenly showing a lot of interest in her paint roller.
“Good. You shouldn’t. You’re hotter than him.”
“Well, that’s blatantly not true,” she murmured, surprised the pale paint wasn’t reflecting the beetroot-red of her face now. “But thanks.”
“No, you really are. Anyway, sorry I’m a bit awful today. I know he’s being very generous, helping me out, and I don’t mean to get so…” Andy shuddered. “I think I’m turning into my mother.”
“Happens to us all.” She paused. “Do your parents expect a lot from you, managing the B&B, or…?”
