Carrot eaten, Flora grabbed an apple. “What’re these for?”
“Empanadas for the Tex-Mex rehearsal dinner.” One she’d only been able to cater thanks to Colin’s kindness in opening his pole barn to her. Now she’d have to share space with him. There’d be no getting around it. Every attempt to avoid him resulted in seeing him more. At least when helping him on her roof she could avoid conversation, because who could talk over construction ruckus?
The kitchen was away from the woodwork area for health reasons, so she wouldn’t have to work directly by Colin. Except when she made banquet cloths. Flora had set up Meadow’s sewing center near his table saw. Now Meadow knew why. She suddenly needed to be alone.
To plot her sister’s timely murder.
Meadow resisted temptation to confront Flora in front of Colin. “Pardon me; I have a ton of apples to peel.”
Colin took off his coat and gloves and followed. “I’ll help.”
Flora shoved her peeler at him. “Good idea. I’ll head out, then. My pre-wedding to-do list is proliferating and I’m here procrastinating.”
If Meadow wanted to hurt Flora before, she wanted to knock her into next week now. Meadow said to Colin, “Excuse us,” and marched her miscreant sibling outside.
“What?” Flora blinked big dramatic eyes.
“What indeed. What game are you playing?” Meadow waved her hand between herself and Flora. “We are a team.” She jabbed a finger Colin’s way. “He is the enemy. Or have you conveniently suppressed memories of everything he and his snooty, self-important friends and girlfriend put me through in high school?”
“He was a teenager, Meadow. My instincts, training, and experience in family and relationship counseling tell me he’s changed and we should give the guy a break.”
Flora’s words unsettled Meadow because they eerily paralleled Del’s. Flora was usually right about people. Yet she had that peacemaking side that could cloud her judgment.
Maybe Flora’s upcoming vows had her too veiled to see reality. If Colin was prone to hurting her back then, he could be capable of it now. Especially once his old friends reinfiltrated his life. “Knock off using your sociology degree on me, Flora. It won’t work to change my mind about him or his cruel friends.”
“Where are they now? Is he hanging with them? No. He’s hanging with you.”
“Out of guilt. Once he appeases his conscience, he’ll be gone.”
Flora’s face grew as serious as salmonella. “I don’t think so, sis.”
Meadow groaned. “Regardless. It’s better if I stay guarded.”
“Better? Or safer?”
Meadow fought for a well-reasoned refute but came up short.
Flora leaned in. “I’ve gotten to know him some from working with him on his family’s legal needs. He truly seems a different person now. Plus, you’re single pringle. He’s just as single. I thought maybe—”
“Ab-so-lute-ly not.”
The sisters waffled over Meadow’s lack of a love life several moments before a drilling sound drew their attention.
“Surely the man has sense enough to know not to drill wood props near my food prep!”
The sisters gaped at each other before rushing back in. Once inside, they screeched to a halt, and Flora burst out laughing.
Meadow had no words.
Colin looked up from where he’d shoved a drill in the end of an apple. “What?”
Meadow felt blood drain from her face. “What are you doing?”
“Peeling apples efficiently.” He turned the drill on and pressed peeler to apple. To Meadow’s surprise and Flora’s glee-filled squeal, the peeling spun right off.
“In seconds.” Meadow didn’t know whether to laud him or yell at him.
Flora grabbed her coat. “I’m outta here. Have an appointment with my tailor.”
Meadow doubted that. Flora seemed intent to leave her alone with Colin. Colin had turned, and Meadow stared at his back, trying not to let its nice V-shape appeal to her. Working up a good glare, she stepped into Mr. Innovation’s line of sight.
Colin looked torn between wanting to laugh his face off and run for his life. “Before you get mad, understand there are two options here.”
Meadow folded her arms across her chest.
“One: You kill me—you have no help.”
“And two?”
“Let me live—I’ll have a bushel peeled in minutes.”
Anger and shock subsiding, Meadow fought the urge to giggle. This would teach her to turn a construction guy loose in a kitchen alone with power tools in the vicinity.
He plucked another apple from the bowl and peeled it in two seconds.
Meadow rushed him. “Gimme that.” She grabbed the drill. Tried it herself.
Hip against the counter, he grinned.
“Oh. My. Starch. It actually works.”
Why did the man have to be handsome and right?
“The drill is brand-new and the bit sterilized.”
“How?”
He pointed to her stove where she’d set a pot of water to boil. The only copper one that survived the cave-in. “That’s my best pot. I’m not sure whether to applaud or pummel you.”