“No,” she answered. “Hold that this way.”
He pressed the ruler at the angle she needed. She leaned forward and ran the pencil along the hard edge. It moved slightly, and she looked up at him. Grilled steaks and aftershave.
“Sorry,” he said.
She adjusted the ruler and pressed it down herself, her hand between both of his, and finished the line. Her bangs had fallen in her face, and she pushed them back. “Here.” She pointed out the next line and he positioned the ruler again.
“Can I say something?” he asked.
“You can say anything, just keep that edge still.” She pointed to the next line, ignoring how much he smelled like something she wanted to eat.
He pressed the ruler down. “Be careful with Dalton.”
She looked up at him, but he remained focused on the ruler.
“I’m always careful.”
She expected him to follow up with a few accusations aimed at Dalton. She was ready to shut him down and make it clear that she was a big girl, and could handle herself, yada yada, but he stayed silent. Where had his warning stemmed from? She’d gotten the same feeling from Yvette. Of course, asking Mark his reasons was out of the question. It went against her whole “I’ll judge for myself” platform. Then again, the last time she’d judged for herself she’d been flat-on-her-face wrong.
She glanced at him again and caught him smiling. “What?”
“When your head gets spinning like that, you purse your lips and get a dimple. Right there.” He reached and nearly poked her in the spot next to her mouth.
She brushed his hand away. “I do not. And you don’t make my head spin.”
“I didn’t say I did.”
She paused and felt heat creep up her neck. “What did you say?”
“I said when you start thinking about things really hard you get that look. You said I make your head spin.”
“No, I said you didn’t make my head spin.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. “Because that dimple is back.” He pointed again, and she swatted his hand away.
“Enough with the dimples.” She picked up the yardstick and repositioned it. “If you’re making my head spin, it’s because you’re exasperating.”
“Is that right?” he said, clearly not believing her honest evaluation.
She sat back on her heels and met his dark eyes straight on, a rare thing with him. Humor played in their depths like Puck hiding behind dark-stained glass. She liked it, and she didn’t want it to go away.
She swallowed. She had to keep this professional. “Get me the dimensions on that lamb or nobody’s getting anything for Christmas.”
He attempted to hide his amusement but said nothing, which left her conflicted because wasn’t him coming out of his shell a good thing? But this . . . this . . . magnetism . . . She hadn’t counted on that. And dang if he wasn’t hitting too close to home.
She finished the star and was able to fit the standing lamb on the other end of the same board.
She glanced at him to see what he thought of the outline.
He nodded. “I can see it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled. Stop smiling so much, or he’s likely to kiss you again. She stopped.
She was able to get most of Mary on the next board when Mark’s phone buzzed. He looked at the text. “My dad’s on his way home. You keep going, and I’ll get the rest of this stuff under the cot.”
In a matter of minutes, she had Mary’s outline done, and the room looked as it had before. Mark found a blanket and spread it over the cot so the edge reached the floor, hiding their work.
He held the door for her. “My dad doesn’t get off the property much. I’ll need to come up with some excuses for him to leave so I can use the saws without him getting curious.”
“Why don’t you use the shop equipment at the high school?” Riley asked. “Tom Staley helped us out with the play props. I bet he’d let you use whatever you needed.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea,” he said.
“Because it’s a surprise? I’m sure we could trust Tom. Especially if he knew it was for your dad. You said the nativity was a special thing for the whole town. He’d respect that, wouldn’t he?”
Mark shrugged, shifting his weight. “Probably.”
“And I’m guessing your dad wouldn’t ask too many questions if he thought you were meeting friends. He got out of your way tonight, right?”
“Are you implying that I don’t get out much?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
She put her hands on her hips. “And does he worry about that?”
He paused. “You’re nosy.”
She lifted her brow and counted on her fingers. “It’s away from the house. We can work after school when everyone is gone. I can sketch the rest of the figures right there before you cut them out. And it will give your dad the impression that you’re out making friends or whatever. Tell him you’re helping me with the reno. So, bonus getting him off your back for the day.” She waited for him to agree.
He rubbed his neck. “Nobody else can know.”
“We can’t exactly put the school on lockdown.”
Finally, he shrugged. “I guess it would be easier than trying to hide stuff anytime he comes around.”
“Call me if you want to try.”
He nodded.
That was enough for her.
Cal returned as she was putting on her coat. “Hey,” he said. “You don’t have to run off on my account.”
Riley smiled, seeing the same gleam in his eyes that Mark had showed her once or twice. “I have school tomorrow.”
“Well, I hope you two had fun.” He looked curiously at Mark. “You staying out of trouble?”
“Planning my escape,” Mark deadpanned.
“Ah. Well, let me know how it turns out.” He turned to Riley. “His bedroom window sticks, so it might be best to cut loose through the bathroom. Beware the climbing rose bush.”
“Got it,” she said. “Bathroom window. Avoid the roses.”
“There’s a decent ladder in the garage,” Cal said. “I’ll be sure to turn a blind eye.”
Riley
