“Applaud gets my vote.”
“You aren’t allowed to vote when I’m thinking up means to torture you.”
He grinned, and her gaze snagged on it whether or not she wanted it to.
She tried two more apples. Hands covering hers, he repositioned the drill and peeler. The peel zipped off. So did her common sense, because she found herself stalling just to be near him and continue the friendly contact. His chest to her back, his body felt warm, smelled freshly showered. She fought to de-acknowledge appreciation of his physique and voice, but deep rumbles of laughter after every apple melted her bones into caramel.
She refocused on his drill-peeling method. Its efficiency sank in, and she turned to look at him. “You’ve revolutionized my vegetable and fruit prep.”
He nodded, looking handsome with his heroic drill.
Her mind exploded with possibilities. “Potatoes. Pears. Everything!”
“Maybe not overly ripe pears. They’d probably tear.”
“Right.” She plucked up an apple. “Still, what a time-saver for this.” She beamed at him. “I’m impressed, for real. Your brilliance blinds me, sir.”
Colin smiled slowly, and like this morning’s dawn after a stormy night, the sight of it stole her breath. Staying mad at him would be so much easier if he wasn’t so funny, suave, and smart. She needed distraction. Quick!
She snatched up his drill and went to town attacking more apples.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he watched her curiously before plucking his jacket from a wall hook. “I’m going across to your place and get back at it.”
“I feel bad not helping you.”
He tapped her schedule for the next few days, which she’d written on a whiteboard on her—his—office wall. “You have a catering gig tomorrow. Listen, your part of the deal can wait until after spring. It looks like you’ve come into a busy season. No wonder you panicked when the roof fell in.”
“Yeah, so thank you. Still, I feel bad, you over there renovating and me here peeling apples.”
He leaned in. His cuteness became intoxicating. “Tell you what, Meadow, you let me taste test some of that great-smelling Tex-Mex food, and we’ll call it even.”
She smiled. “I can do that. I’ll even fix you supper, if you want.”
“My TV dinner tummy won’t protest that. Especially since I don’t cook well, unless by microwave or grill. But regarding dinner, instead of Tex-Mex tonight, would you join—?”
Her phone chimed. She frowned. “It’s the hospital.” She answered the call.
“Miss Larson? This is Del’s doctor. She listed you as her emergency contact and medical power of attorney.”
“Yes.” A siphoning sensation numbed Meadow’s arms.
“How far are you from the hospital?”
Meadow’s knees weakened at the doctor’s tone. “Twenty minutes maybe. Why?”
“She’s had some setbacks. We’re looking at surgery pretty quick here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We believe infection from gallstones. She has life-threatening pancreatitis.”
After he expounded, Meadow said, “Be right there.” Remembering at the same time that she had left her coat at the catering event earlier, she whirled to grab her purse and ran smack into a slab of muscle. Reflexive arms came around her, surprising Meadow with their strength and sustaining power.
Colin.
He lowered his head to peer directly into her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Del—” My goodness, breathless. Mostly due to Del, but partly because Colin was so close. She had the strangest, strongest urge to lean in and let him shield her from the unrest exploding in her head. Worry over Del. Catering work. Obligations. Life.
“Del’s having complications?”
Meadow nodded, biting her lower lip. Everything hit her at once. Del. The train wreck her business was about to be with this new time crunch. But she couldn’t be selfish. Del’s health took priority. Still, Del’s and the teens’ futures depended on Meadow’s business success. Part of why Meadow pushed it so hard.
Colin moved very much inside her personal space. “Meadow?”
Panic and desperation pulverized her pride and made her want to step close to him. She dared not. She fixed eyes on the floor. No use. His nearness magnetized. Her will stretched like a mozzarella string to a point of thinness about to break. Crazy as it was, his kindness was getting to her . . . demolishing walls. He may be reconstructing her house but simultaneously deconstructing barriers she’d spent a lifetime building.
Never mind all that now.
She returned Colin’s steady gaze. “I’m scared for Del.”
“God’s got this. But she needs you too. When’s the Tex-Mex gig?”