Her Handyman

Excerpt From: Her Handyman

Dressed in a light cotton sundress that accentuated her breasts, Stef felt very feminine as she breezed out onto the porch with a coffee in her hand for Cullen. He was seated on her ancient porch swing, his feet resting on the railing, ankles crossed. When he saw her, he immediately swung his legs down and sat erect. As she drew nearer, he stood. Great, he was a gentleman. That wasn’t helping things.

He raked the hair from his eyes and smiled, taking the coffee from her hand. He didn’t sit back down but leaned that tight ass on her railing. Stef sat on the swing in front of him.

He took a gulp of the coffee. “Thanks so much. I don’t expect this every morning you know.”

Her gaze dropped as the words stumbled over each other in her brain. Speak woman. “I know but I make sure the moral of my employees is at its peak at all times.”

“Bring me a coffee every morning and you’ll never have to worry about my moral.” He grinned.

Stef bit the inside of her cheek. “Deal,” she murmured not able to take her eyes from his face.

They sat quietly for a time, listening to the morning sounds of the woods, the frog songs, the incessant chatter of an irritated squirrel and the rush of the river as it sped down the hills to the centre of town. When Cullen set his mug on the railing and pushed off, Stef followed suit.

“I’ll show you where I want the wood piled.”

“I’m right behind you,” he said as he followed her down the stairs. She knew he took the stairs two at a time from his heavy footfalls behind her.

The pile of logs she’d had delivered was stacked in a pyramid behind the cabin. It was easily as tall as Cullen, but he stared at it as if it were a minor chore. She could see his mind working out where to start right down to which end to start with.

“I want it piled along this side of the house,” she pointed. “That way I can get to it easily when the snow piles up.”

He looked at her pointedly. “I’m sorry you have to do that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely confused. She’d never considered it work, simply something that had to be done if she wanted to stay warm. She didn’t have baseboard heaters, only the woodstove.

“I mean someone should be here for you. Someone to do that work.” He spoke softly.

“I don’t need someone for that,” she commented, trying to keep the bite from her tone. No, I need someone to keep my bed warm, that distant voice chimed in.