her elegant shoulders. He was pleased that he had made her blush again. Maybe he could even make her smile. A smile would make the whole day worthwhile, balance out the drive down from Richmond, the day spent away from Harmon Contracting business.
“What’s up?” he asked, climbing to his feet. The flange was frozen shut. He was going to have to turn the water off at its source, then cut out the difficult piece.
She cleared her throat. It was obviously difficult for her to say whatever she was thinking. “I just wondered if you could drive me down to Main Street. I need to take in the computer, to see if they can salvage anything from the hard drive.”
Huh. Why should it be so difficult for her to ask a favor? Didn’t people help each other out, up in New York? He fished in his pocket and pulled out his key ring. “Here. Take the truck. That’ll give me a chance to talk to this thing the way I really need to.”
Kat backed away as if he were handing her a live snake. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the casual offer of the keys. He wasn’t trying to make her feel uncomfortable, abnormal. But as the fluorescent light glinted off the brass keys, all she could hear was Jenny’s querulous voice asking, “But why can’t Aunt Kat drive?”
She cleared her throat and reminded herself that she had a perfectly good excuse. It would have been a waste of her time to get behind the wheel in New York—time that she had spent perfecting her arabesque, mastering her pirouettes. “I can’t drive,” she said flatly. She saw a question flash in his eyes, and she immediately added, “It’s not like I’ve lost my license or anything. I never had one.”
“Never—” he started to say, but then he seemed to piece together the puzzle. “Okay. Give me a minute to wash up, and we can head there together.”
“Thank you,” she said, and a flood of gratitude tinted the words. She was grateful for more than his agreeing to run the errand with her. She appreciated the fact that he hadn’t pushed the matter, that he hadn’t forced her to go into any details.
It felt odd to watch as Rye lifted the computer tower from beneath the desk in the office. It was strange to follow him out to the truck. She was used to being the person who did things, the woman who executed the action plan. But she had to admit she would have had a hard time handling the heavy computer and the studio door, all while keeping her balance with her walking boot.
Rye settled the computer in the back of the truck, nestling it in a bed of convenient blankets. She started to hobble toward the passenger door, but he stopped her with a single word: “Nope.”
She turned to face him, squinting a little in the brilliant spring sun. “What?”
“Why don’t you get behind the wheel?”
So much for gratitude that he hadn’t pressed the issue. She felt iron settle over her tone. “I told you. I don’t know how to drive.”
“No time like the present. I’m a good teacher. I’ve taught five siblings.”
A stutter of panic rocketed through Kat’s gut. She wasn’t about to show Rye how incompetent she was, how unsuited to life in Eden Falls. She forced a semblance of calm into her words. “Maybe one of them will drive me, then.”
Rye’s voice was gentle. Kind. “It’s not that difficult. I promise. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Kat did not get afraid. She leaped from the stage into a partner’s arms. She let herself be tossed through the air, all limbs extended. She spun herself in tight, orchestrated circles until any ordinary woman would have collapsed from dizziness. “Fine,” she snapped. But her spine was ice by the time she reached the driver’s door.
With her long legs, she didn’t need to move the seat up. She fastened her seat belt, tugging the cloth band firmly, and she glared at Rye until he did the same. She put her hands on the steering wheel, gripping tightly as she tried to slow her pounding heart. The muscles in
“What’s up?” he asked, climbing to his feet. The flange was frozen shut. He was going to have to turn the water off at its source, then cut out the difficult piece.
She cleared her throat. It was obviously difficult for her to say whatever she was thinking. “I just wondered if you could drive me down to Main Street. I need to take in the computer, to see if they can salvage anything from the hard drive.”
Huh. Why should it be so difficult for her to ask a favor? Didn’t people help each other out, up in New York? He fished in his pocket and pulled out his key ring. “Here. Take the truck. That’ll give me a chance to talk to this thing the way I really need to.”
Kat backed away as if he were handing her a live snake. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the casual offer of the keys. He wasn’t trying to make her feel uncomfortable, abnormal. But as the fluorescent light glinted off the brass keys, all she could hear was Jenny’s querulous voice asking, “But why can’t Aunt Kat drive?”
She cleared her throat and reminded herself that she had a perfectly good excuse. It would have been a waste of her time to get behind the wheel in New York—time that she had spent perfecting her arabesque, mastering her pirouettes. “I can’t drive,” she said flatly. She saw a question flash in his eyes, and she immediately added, “It’s not like I’ve lost my license or anything. I never had one.”
“Never—” he started to say, but then he seemed to piece together the puzzle. “Okay. Give me a minute to wash up, and we can head there together.”
“Thank you,” she said, and a flood of gratitude tinted the words. She was grateful for more than his agreeing to run the errand with her. She appreciated the fact that he hadn’t pushed the matter, that he hadn’t forced her to go into any details.
It felt odd to watch as Rye lifted the computer tower from beneath the desk in the office. It was strange to follow him out to the truck. She was used to being the person who did things, the woman who executed the action plan. But she had to admit she would have had a hard time handling the heavy computer and the studio door, all while keeping her balance with her walking boot.
Rye settled the computer in the back of the truck, nestling it in a bed of convenient blankets. She started to hobble toward the passenger door, but he stopped her with a single word: “Nope.”
She turned to face him, squinting a little in the brilliant spring sun. “What?”
“Why don’t you get behind the wheel?”
So much for gratitude that he hadn’t pressed the issue. She felt iron settle over her tone. “I told you. I don’t know how to drive.”
“No time like the present. I’m a good teacher. I’ve taught five siblings.”
A stutter of panic rocketed through Kat’s gut. She wasn’t about to show Rye how incompetent she was, how unsuited to life in Eden Falls. She forced a semblance of calm into her words. “Maybe one of them will drive me, then.”
Rye’s voice was gentle. Kind. “It’s not that difficult. I promise. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Kat did not get afraid. She leaped from the stage into a partner’s arms. She let herself be tossed through the air, all limbs extended. She spun herself in tight, orchestrated circles until any ordinary woman would have collapsed from dizziness. “Fine,” she snapped. But her spine was ice by the time she reached the driver’s door.
With her long legs, she didn’t need to move the seat up. She fastened her seat belt, tugging the cloth band firmly, and she glared at Rye until he did the same. She put her hands on the steering wheel, gripping tightly as she tried to slow her pounding heart. The muscles in
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