Page 4 of Forever with the Mountain Man
The formal address makes me wince. "Caroline," I correct automatically. "Please."
"Caroline." The way he says my name, low and deliberate, sends a shiver through me despite the oppressive heat. "You could use some air conditioning yourself. Face is getting red."
I press my hands to my cheeks, feeling the warmth there. "I'm fine. Just focused on getting these organized."
"Hmm." He sets down his hammer and reaches for a water bottle, drinking deeply. I try not to watch the movement of his throat as he swallows, try not to notice the way a droplet of water escapes to trail down his chest.
I fail spectacularly on both counts.
"Your room should be ready tomorrow," he says, capping the bottle. "Electrical's almost finished."
"Really?" The relief in my voice is unmistakable. "That's wonderful. I was starting to panic about having everything ready for Monday."
"You'll have the weekend. That enough time?"
"It'll have to be." I venture a step closer to the doorway, drawn by the promise of seeing my own space again. "Could I take a quick look? Just to start planning the layout?"
He considers this for a moment, then nods. "Stay right behind me. Still some exposed wiring."
I follow him into my classroom, and the difference is remarkable. The old, dingy linoleum has been replaced with cheerful blue carpet. The walls have been painted a warm cream color that will make my bulletin boards pop. New electrical outlets dot the walls at perfect intervals for all the learning stations I've planned.
"It's beautiful," I breathe, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. "This is so much better than what was here before."
"Still needs the finishing touches. Baseboards, switch plates." He's watching my reaction carefully. "But the bones are good now."
"The bones are perfect." I can already see how the reading corner will look in that sunny spot by the windows, where the art center will go near the sink, how the dramatic play area will fit perfectly in the back corner. "My students are going to love this."
"Twenty-two kindergarteners, you said?"
"Twenty-two five-year-olds who think school is going to be scary and overwhelming." I run my hand along the smooth surface of the built-in cubbies. "I want this to feel like the safest, happiest place in the world for them."
There's something in his expression when I look up, something soft and approving that makes my heart skip. "It will."
The confidence in his voice, the way he's looking at me like he can see exactly what I'm envisioning, makes something warm unfurl in my chest. This man understands the importance of getting things right.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For doing this properly, I mean. I know it would have been easier to just patch things up."
"Easier isn't always better."
"No," I agree, still looking around at the transformed space. "It's not."
We stand there in comfortable silence for a moment, both of us surveying his handiwork. The heat seems even more oppressive in the enclosed space, and I'm acutely aware of his presence beside me—the scent of sawdust and clean sweat, the size of him, the way the late morning light highlights the silver in his dark hair.
"You should get back to your organizing," he says finally. "Before you overheat."
"Right." I reluctantly head toward the door, then pause. "Finn? Are you sure you don't need anything? Water, or... I could make you lunch?"
The offer hangs between us, and I immediately want to take it back. It sounds too personal, too much like something a woman would offer a man she was interested in rather than a professional courtesy.
But he doesn't look uncomfortable. If anything, his eyes warm slightly. "That's kind of you. But I'll be fine."
"Okay." I hover in the doorway for another moment, reluctant to leave. "If you change your mind..."
"I'll know where to find you."
I spend the rest of the morning trying to focus on my work, but my attention keeps drifting to the sounds from across the hall. The steady rhythm of Finn's hammer, the occasional scrape of equipment being moved, the low rumble of his voice when he takes a phone call.
By noon, the heat has become unbearable. Even with the classroom air conditioning running full blast, I'm wilting in the humid air. I can only imagine how miserable it must be for Finn, doing physical labor in an un-air-conditioned room.
