His lips were pressed together, his eyes squinting at something in the distance. She could feel his strength, could feel safety in his arms. It was insanity that Madeline should feel anything in that moment, much less something hot and fast glowing in her. It was absurd that she should look at his mouth and think of kissing him—had she lost her ever-loving mind? What the hell was the matter with her?
Luke suddenly lowered his head, his mouth next to her temple, and blood began to rush in her ears. “Here’s what we do. You create a diversion and I’ll rush it from behind—”
“Are you crazy!” she cried, and struggled against him. All thoughts of kissing him were out of her head now, and survival her only instinct.
But Luke held her tight. His mouth began to quiver; the squint of his eyes began to glint with amusement. Madeline twisted around—
A cow was meandering down the path, another one behind that.
The laugh Luke had been holding back exploded out of him. Madeline shoved hard against his chest and he took a step back, doubled over with laughter. “It’s a cow,” he said through gasps of laughter.
“I can see that!” Madeline shouted. “I thought it was a bear!” She doubled over, her hands on her knees, sucking in her breath, trying to ease her racing heart, to erase the tingly feeling in her skin. “This is not funny,” she said. But it was—she was trying to contain her smile.
Luke was overcome with laughter. “You should have seen yourself, flying down the trail. I’ve never seen anyone run that fast!”
“But the cows are way up there!” she cried, pointing up the mountain.
“They were. But sometimes, they get on a familiar path and come down.” He was still grinning as he held out his hand to her. “Come on,” he said, and grabbed her hand, tugging on her. “You gotta move, Maddie. The cows are headed for the trough.” He tugged her just off the path, pulling her back into his body to let the two cows pass.
Every inch of Madeline was aware of every inch of him. She was lit up, raw, a big fat neon sign pulsing with adrenaline, and a gravity pulling her into the man at her back.
Luke put his hands on her shoulders as the cows wandered by. “Take another breath and remember, that one day, you will think it was hilarious you thought a cow was a bear.”
“That assumes I don’t kill myself trying to run from cows in the meantime,” she muttered breathlessly.
“I have to admit, it’s sexy,” he said. “Unpredictable woman afraid of mice and cows.”
The word sexy sluiced through Madeline like warm butter. “I am not afraid of cows,” she corrected him. “Let’s just say I am unfamiliar.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” He patted her on the shoulder and stepped around her, starting down behind the cows.
Madeline hurried after him in case another unfamiliar beast should make an appearance. “Wait!” She hurried to catch up. “Where are you going?”
“To build some temporary showers. Wanna help?” he asked, then bellowed at one of the cows to move, hitting it on the rump. The cow galloped around the one in front, and the two of them trotted to the barn.
“I do! I had some thoughts on how to proceed,” she said.
“With what?”
“All the work that must be done.”
They had reached an old pickup that had stacks of plywood and assorted lumber in its bed.
“I thought about dividing the work into quadrants.”
Luke paused and gave her a puzzled look. “Into what?”
“Quadrants. It’s my organization technique. I am going to work on the contracts and research,” she said, holding up a finger. “Libby is cleaning. You will do construction.” She held up a forth finger. “We can decide later who will handle the Johnsons. I was thinking maybe a bulletin board by the fence around the front yard, you know, for notes and Lost and Found—” She gave herself a quick shake of the head. “I am getting ahead of myself. The point is, someone needs to deal with the Johnsons.”
Luke regarded her with a curious smile. “Quadrants, huh?”
“Trust me. It works.”
“Are you always so organized?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Always.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“I’m just wondering if someone can really live a life in quadrants.” He handed her a hammer.
“I don’t live in quadrants,” she said, as if that were ridiculous. “But organization is what makes the world go around. What’s this?”
“A hammer.”
She smiled. “I know it’s a hammer. But why are you giving it to me?”
“Because we need to start building showers. And organization does not make the world go round, people do. Flawed, unorganized people. Do you ever just go with the flow?”
“No,” she said, watching him strap on a tool belt that hung low on his hips.
“Well that was definitive. Why not?”
“In my experience,” she said with a small incline of her head, “in the absence of organization and planning, there is only chaos.”
“I would argue—” he paused with a slight grunt to hoist lumber onto his shoulder from the bed of the truck “—that in chaos, there is often the joy of discovery.”