All They Need(32)

She took a deep breath. “Hi.”

His head snapped around, the frown sliding from his face when he saw her. “Hey.”

Even though her toes were curled inside her boots with self-consciousness, it was impossible not to feel warmed by the welcome in his eyes.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“I’ve never been good at sleeping in.”

“Me, either. Is it bad?” she asked, gesturing toward his hand.

“I’ll live.” His gaze shifted to the brush-cutter slung over her shoulder. “If that’s what I think it is, I may have to kiss your feet.”

“I told you I’d bring it over.”

He didn’t say anything and she knew they were both thinking about the way she’d bolted last night.

She cleared her throat. “Have you, um, used one of these before?”

“Only as a line trimmer.” He crossed to her side as she lowered the head of the cutter to the ground.

“It’s pretty simple. You prime the engine here, then use the pull cord. It usually starts the first time, but if it doesn’t, try priming it again. Here, I’ll show you.”

He moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers as she angled the motor so he could see the priming button. She tried to ignore the smell of his deodorant as she pumped the primer a few times, then pulled the cord. The engine sprang to noisy life.



“Look at that. More reliable than my car,” he said.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was smiling, but she didn’t dare look directly at him. She couldn’t. He was standing too close.

“So this is the throttle, yeah?” he asked, pointing to the orange control halfway down the shaft. “And I assume this is the safety stop switch?”

“Exactly. I brought you some protective gear, too. The blade kicks up a lot of debris.”

She handed the brush-cutter over and watched as Flynn put the harness on so that the strap ran diagonally across his chest, the weight of the machine balanced near his hip. He frowned, adjusting it first to one side of his body, then to the other.

“It’s sitting a little high,” she said. “You’re taller than me.”

“I’m not sure an inch really counts.”

“I thought inches always counted with men. Sometimes twice.” She had no idea where the comment came from, but it was out her mouth before she could catch herself.

He let out a crack of laughter.

“Sorry,” she said automatically.

“What for? For being funny?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes. Owen had hated her smart mouth. “Women don’t tell jokes,” he’d once told her. “It’s unfeminine. And let’s face it, you need all the help you can get in that department.”

She’d gotten used to guarding her words, in the same way that she’d gotten used to thinking twice before she did anything.

“If you stand still, I’ll adjust that for you,” she said, indicating the harness.

She stepped closer. The adjustable buckle lay low on Flynn’s belly, above the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers brushed hard stomach muscles through his sweater as she lifted the strap away from his body.

“Can you take the weight off the harness for a moment?” she asked.

He did so wordlessly, lifting the brush-cutter so the harness hung loosely. She fed more strap through the buckle, lengthening the harness by a good couple of inches.

“There. That should do it.”

She made the mistake of looking up before she moved away. His blue eyes, clear and sharp, seemed very bright this morning as they looked into hers. As though he could see all the way through to her soul. “Thanks, Mel.”

Flustered, she bent to collect the safety equipment, passing over the hearing protectors and face mask.

“I feel like I should be terrorizing teenagers in Friday the 13th,” he said as he pulled on the mask.

“Trust me, five seconds from now you’ll be grateful for it.”

He engaged the throttle experimentally before moving in on the blackberries for an experimental pass, the brush-cutter buzzing like an angry hornet. She stood to one side, watching his technique. After a few seconds she strode forward and touched his shoulder to get his attention.

He turned his head, eyebrows raised in question.

“Sweep it in more of an arc,” she yelled over the noise of the engine. “And it spits stuff out to the left, so if you keep stepping right, you should avoid walking into anything.”