And he had a sudden, strong urge to tuck her flyaway hair behind her ear.
The latter was totally inappropriate.
To corral that renegade impulse, he motioned to her hand and stuck his fingers in his pockets in case they decided to misbehave. “Your manual labor has already done a fair amount of damage.”
She examined the chipped polish and shrugged. “The manicure was on its last legs anyway. And hurrying the process along is more than worth the fun I’m having.”
Stephanie thought rehabbing was fun?
Another point of difference between her and Jo Ann.
His wife had been more than happy to pitch in on most jobs around the house, but she’d walked a wide circle around saws and drills—or any semidangerous tools.
Zach’s aunt was full of surprises.
“Could you use another set of hands with the crown molding?” The offer was out before he could stop it—surprising him as much as it seemed to surprise her.
What had happened to the quick, impromptu walk-around he’d planned to do en route to the grocery store—and the quiet dinner on his patio to unwind after his busy Wednesday volunteer shift at the lighthouse?
One answer sprang to mind—but he shoved it into a shadowy corner.
Her brow wrinkled. “Are you on the list for today? Zach didn’t mention seeing your name.”
“No. This was an unplanned stop. But I put up crown molding at our house in Coos Bay. If you’re short of experienced people, I could stay for a while.”
“That would be terrific. Let’s go take measurements.”
Without waiting for a response—or giving him an opportunity to rethink his offer—she strode toward the house.
He followed.
Slowly.
This could be a mistake.
After turning down her invitation to the national parks lecture, he ought to keep his distance.
She hadn’t said anything about that, though—nor did she appear to hold his refusal against him.
Maybe she’d simply accepted it for what it had been—an I-like-you-but-have-no-interest-in-romance message—and moved on. Her demeanor today suggested she was willing to be friends, with no expectation their relationship would ever progress beyond that.
He should be relieved.
So what was with the sudden pang of disappointment in the pit of his stomach?
You know the answer to that, Frank.
He sighed.
Yeah, he did.
It was easy to like Stephanie Garrett—and getting easier with every encounter.
But if that trend continued . . . if liking suddenly began morphing into an emotion much deeper . . . it would open another can of worms.
Several cans.
Like, how could he have loved Jo Ann as much as he had, yet find himself attracted to someone new?
And what would he do if he began to care too much for a woman whose life was on the East Coast, in an apartment with a long-term lease?
He trailed after her—waving at Zach, who brandished a wallpaper scraper at him from one of the bedrooms as he passed the doorway.
No answers to those questions came to mind.
But if his changing perceptions of Stephanie continued to break down his defenses, he’d have to get himself in gear and nail them down.
Otherwise, he could find himself falling for her—and putting his heart at risk of a very hard landing.
Of course the wallpaper didn’t come off in long strips, despite the soaking he’d given it.
And of course Katherine hadn’t shown.
Zach attacked another piece of the stubborn floral paper that refused to relinquish its grip on the drywall, scraping with more force than necessary.
With all the information Stephanie had dumped on him earlier, Katherine would have been a welcome distraction.
Instead, his mind was in overdrive trying to reconcile the background she’d given him with what he knew about his father—and debating whether a trip to Atlanta should be in his immediate future.
Funny how you could think you knew everything there was to know about a person, only to discover there were gaping holes in your data.
Too bad they hadn’t been filled in years ago.
If he and Josh had had a fuller understanding of their father’s history, it was possible they could have avoided the falling-out that had created a world of angst for all of them.
As for the trip to Atlanta—who knew how his father would react if he showed up? What if having his older son appear at his bedside precipitated the very heart attack the surgery was designed to prevent?
But if he didn’t go, and there were complications . . . if his father ended up—
He couldn’t bring himself to form that thought.
His dad couldn’t die.
Not with so much unresolved between them.
His father may have been a hard taskmaster during his growing-up years, but he’d also been supportive, encouraging, and proud of all his older son had accomplished.
Only after Zach went rogue did the relationship disintegrate.
Now that he had more insight about why that had happened, was it conceivable he might be able to—
“Could you use a hand?”
He whipped around at the familiar voice, his scraper carving a gouge in the drywall that someone would have to repair later.
Katherine hovered in the doorway of the room, holding a foil-covered tray and wearing her usual dark glasses.
She’d actually left her hideaway and shown up?
His day brightened.
“Another pair of hands would be more than welcome. At the rate this wallpaper is coming off, we’ll be working on it until Christmas. What’s that?” He motioned to the tray.
“Truffles for the volunteers. I’ve been doing a ton of experimenting, and if I eat all the samples myself, I’ll gain a ton. But I’d rather they be an anonymous donation.”
He walked over and took the tray from her. “I can put them in the kitchen, on the counter with a few goodies other volunteers brought. And I’ll tip off my aunt to stay mum about the source.”
“Thanks.”
“I already soaked the paper on that wall.” He motioned to where he’d been working. “Pick a spot and have at it. There are more scrapers in the bucket next to the water.”
“Got it.”
As she walked over to the wall, he detoured to the kitchen, set her offering on the counter—and popped one of the truffles in his mouth.
Not blackberry this time. A different flavor he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
But it was delicious.
He told her that after he rejoined her and went back to work.
“Thanks. They’re infused with lavender and Earl Grey tea. The woman who runs the tearoom Stephanie and I went to inspired me to try incorporating those ingredients. They’re not quite where I want them yet—but they’re getting closer.”
“I don’t see how you could improve on them.”
“I can—and I’ll know when they’re right.” She propped her sunglasses on top of her head and got to work.
A companionable silence descended between them, the muffled conversation of other volunteers and the scuffing of their scrapers providing a muted backdrop, interrupted occasionally by the whir of the saw that had been set up on the front lawn.
Several minutes passed as he tried to shift into small talk mode—but much as he’d hoped Katherine’s presence would distract him, he couldn’t vanquish the dilemma with his father from his mind.