Michaela used a ruler and a pencil to mark the piece she would cut out. It didn’t take her long to use her oscillating tool to cut above and below the damage so she could remove it. She measured the size of the hole that was left so she’d know the size to cut to fill it. Then she headed out to the barn to cut the piece of wood she’d need.
The heat of the day was rising, but for the most part, Michaela enjoyed the heat. The house had a few window air conditioners, and that was certainly a blessing. Eventually, she’d install the central air.
As she measured the piece of one-by-six she was going to cut for the doorframe, her gaze slid over to the pair of gloves Lewis and Randy had given her. She’d used them, but as she’d promised, she’d gotten her own pair, among other things. And Trace had been right. Her hands might be sweaty, but the gloves allowed for a good grip of whatever tool she was using.
She clamped the board on her worktable and measured it again. Satisfied that her marks were true, she slipped her safety glasses into place and then proceeded to cut the piece she needed. Since this was the last time that she’d use the saw today, she unplugged it, set it on the shelf, and then carried her twelve-and-a-half-inch long piece of board back to the house.
She’d already brought the nail gun and small compressor inside after she’d finished the porch. The gun lay on one of her father’s old-style TV tables that she was using as a tool rest. Now, she set the freshly cut wood down beside it. Since this was a new task, she headed over to the dining room table, where she’d left her laptop, to review the video once more.
The videographer mentioned something she’d forgotten. “Wood filler. I’ll have to head to the hardware store in Gatesville and get some of that.” Confident that she knew what she was doing next, she picked up her piece of wood and headed to the doorframe of the house’s front door. She was able to slide the piece of wood into place. If wood filler succeeded in filling the cracks, then she’d be fine. There was a slight bit of room at the edges—not too much, but enough so that was easily able to set the piece of wood in place.
Gloves on, Michaela turned on the compressor, and picked up the nail gun. She adjusted the new wood, grateful it was going in at about eye level. She had a ladder but preferred solid ground under her feet when using the nail gun.
One nail above and then one below. She knew where the stud was and had the freshly cut wood lined up perfectly.
She placed the nose of the gun above her hand, exactly where she needed the nail to go, and pulled the trigger.
Time slowed. For the first time ever, the gun jumped in her hand, leaving the surface of the wood, just like the recoil in a real gun before slamming back again, but not quite to the spot it had been. Michaela blinked, and then she screamed.
* * * *
Randy was enjoying himself, and he could see that Lewis was, too. They hadn’t expected an invitation to brunch at Ari, Cord, and Jackson’s, because he knew their cousins were visiting with Uncle George. But when the call came, of course, they went.
Being with family helped him keep his mind off sexy Michaela. Of course, he also thought of her as sweet Michaela and smart Michaela. He just thought of her and the power she had over him, to draw him to her without even trying. He had no defenses against her. They’d only had one date, but he wanted her so badly he didn’t know how long he could play it cool. He truly liked everything about her—not just her appearance, which had been the first pull. But her sense of humor and her sense of duty both called to him. And holding her in his arms, dancing with her? She’d melted into him, and he’d hardened. They hadn’t spoken about that, but they’d shared a few looks that told him all he needed to know. It was hard not to pine for the next date with her.
The best thing of all was that he knew Lewis was smitten just as much as he was. That woman is the answer to my prayers.
Family chatting all around him helped him to tuck Michaela—well, thoughts of her—into a corner of his mind.
Cord, Jesse, and one of Addison’s husbands, Mike, had done a lot of the cooking. Ari and Shar—who had announced she was expecting her second child, due sometime in the middle of January about a week before Patrick’s second birthday—had been allowed to do a bit of the prep work, but the men kept close tabs on them both.
Ari shook her head at the way her husbands craftily, in Randy’s opinion, managed to keep her from doing much of anything.
“I had the babies in March. This is July. I am fully recovered.”
“Of course you are, Red,” Cord said.
“We just like to take care of you, Tinkerbell.” Jackson said. The men grinned at her and continued on doing what they were doing, which was, Randy mused, most definitely the Benedict way.
George shook his head at the by-play between his oldest sons and the daughter-in-law he clearly adored. “I didn’t tell any of you, but I guess I should have. I hired a live-in housekeeper.”
His uncle’s announcement surprised him, because Benedict men tended to be hardheaded and not admit when they needed help. Looking around the table, he could see that the announcement had surprised his sons and his daughter, Addison, too.
“When was this?” Jesse asked.
“Shortly after the last court date,” George said. “I can
