Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
For the past hour he’d listened more than he’d talked and had asked the occasional interested question. He didn’t come across as all cocky and arrogant like some men. Heck, the mere fact that he seemed aware that he’d said the wrong thing earlier was encouraging, as were his cautious attempts to make amends.
“We try.”
“I love these shelves too.” He ran his fingers along one of the shallow shelving units I’d built to display egg cups. We’d started carrying a few from local artisans in a nod to my grandmother’s famous collection, and as I had for her, I’d made special shelves for them and some of our other small items.
“Finn built them,” Rachel volunteered when I would have stayed silent.
“Really? Do you sell them?” Harrison got the same look his mother had at the idea of the peacock-feather pens.
“Sell? My display shelves?” I frowned, not because I’d never been asked, but because, unlike Rachel, I didn’t feel the need to turn everything into a transaction. Woodworking was a hobby, something I did with my rather limited free time, not a career path.
“Yes. I’ve been looking for something shallow like this, but with the decorative railing.” Harrison continued to admire my handiwork, inspecting all the little details that most people probably missed. “It would add a nice touch to our gifts department.”
“I usually only make things for family and friends,” I hedged.
“How does one get to be a friend?”
Now, that was an unexpected question. And more than a little flirty in its delivery, a curiousness there that Harrison hadn’t shown before. I liked it. Way more than I should have.
“Well…” I trailed off to buy myself a little time. I didn’t want to shoot him down outright, even if I didn’t see us being friends any time soon. “A friend would help me make them.”
I said the words lightly, but it was still a challenge, one I fully expected Harrison to shy away from.
“You want my assistance? With woodworking?” His eyes went predictably wide.
I shrugged. “It’s that or put you on egg-collection duty.”
“Woodworking it is.” Harrison nodded like we’d come to some agreement.
What? Wait. What had I gotten myself into? Guys like him never wanted to get their hands dirty. His ready agreement made no sense.
“Tell me a time that works for you, as your schedule is probably more fixed than mine.” Harrison pulled out his phone, thumbing through to a calendar app like he was scheduling a dental appointment. “I should warn you, though, that my last encounter with a drill led to some pretty significant drywall repair.”
Damn it. Why did he have to go and be charmingly uncertain again? Him being presumptive would be easy enough to turn down, but this combination of eagerness and vulnerability was too damn appealing. And hell if I could say no.
“We’ll see how dangerous you are with some sandpaper.” And now I was practically flirting back. I was so screwed.
“I’m looking forward to it.” Harrison smiled—a humble smile he didn’t show as much as his professional one.
I liked this Harrison far better. Far too much. And the worst thing was that now I was looking forward to seeing him again too. Maybe there was no harm in enjoying his company. And maybe the new piglets would sprout wings and start zooming around the barn.
Chapter Six
Harrison
“You’re looking awfully casual.” Mom was all smiles as I locked up the store.
And I knew why. I had an…appointment with Finn. Not a date. An arrangement to work on some shelves after dinner. Not that I’d done much more than grab a snack while reading over some employee applications. I was busy enough that I tended to forget about meals until I was starving. I had, however, made a point of dashing back upstairs and changing clothes.
“I do own jeans.” Admittedly, these were closer to club wear than farm-worthy, but I’d paired them with hiking boots and a loose sweater in deference to how temperatures tended to dip after dark.
“So you do.” Mom narrowed her eyes as her gaze dropped to my hand. “Didn’t that book arrive in today’s shipment?”
“Yes.” No sense in playing coy. It was an anthology featuring the author Finn had admired when he’d visited the store, and I’d immediately thought of him. If I were honest, I’d thought about him a lot in the last twenty-four hours, which was both exhilarating and frustrating. And I didn’t need my mother’s shrewd expression or blatant meddling. “I ordered an extra copy for myself.”
“And now you’re giving it away.” She easily kept up with my strides as we made our way to the parking garage. “Interesting choice. Very interesting.”
“You’re making too much out of this.” At the parking structure, I hit the button for the elevator to spare Mom’s knees. “It’s simply a thank-you for him taking the time to make the shelves with me.”