Her laptop was on the dining room table and had gone into sleep mode. He touched the mouse pad, and when the screen came up, he saw that she’d been watching a video on how to replace a piece of doorframe. A quick look at her history told him not what sort of music she liked but rather that she’d been teaching herself, through the use of these how-to videos, to do whatever tasks had been required.
His gaze was drawn to that one unfinished piece of doorframe. There was a tape measure along with the nail gun, a regular hammer, nails, an oscillating tool with a cutting blade—she had herself a collection, he thought.
But no large saw and no lumber waiting to be cut.
He took the measurement needed for the door frame, checked that she was still asleep, and headed out to where he thought her lumber and saw would be—the barn.
A couple of minutes later, Lewis stood in awe. This had clearly been a working barn, though there was no scent of animals remaining. A tractor was parked in the back, its nose pointing out, as if awaiting use. He recognized attachments that had been stored by someone who knew what they were doing. Michaela’s father had used his equipment to plow the soil and to disc it—likely in preparation to plant feed grasses or maybe even corn. There were stalls and a tack room that had bridles and even a couple of saddles that appeared to need nothing more than cleaning—and a couple of horses to wear them.
His fingers itched to inspect the implements, to sort out the tack, but that couldn’t be his focus right now.
Instead, just to the left of the door he’d entered through, he found Michaela’s renovation workstation. He saw the pair of gloves he and Randy had gifted her, a set of safety glasses, and there, on the shelf, a circular saw.
A pile of lumber, a few one-by-threes, a few one-by-sixes, and various other sizes were stacked neatly. There on top lay a piece of one-by-six that was shorter than the others.
Lewis plugged in the saw, clamped the piece, and measured where he’d cut. It took only a moment. Then he unplugged the saw and took the time to close the barn door behind him.
Michaela was still asleep, which Lewis counted as a bonus. He quietly closed her door, so the sound he was about to make when he turned on the compressor didn’t wake her.
For extra measure, he set the compressor out on the porch. The cord and the hose were long enough, and he was only going to use the tool for a moment.
It didn’t take him long to install the piece. He didn’t notice the nail gun stick, or try to jump, so it could have been a one-time thing. Still, he’d suggest getting a new one, though the one she’d bought wasn’t particularly heavy.
Lewis heard the sound of tires on gravel, signaling Randy’s return. He set the tools aside, where she likely kept them on that little TV table, and nodded at the doorframe, ready for wood fill and then paint.
He knew, going forward, she’d insist on doing some of the work, and that was fine. Lewis had no intention of preventing her from working on her own ranch, be it repairs or whatever else she wanted to do.
He’d just been determined she wouldn’t have to finish the repair that had quite literally taken a bite out of her.
Chapter Eight
Michaela swam through the fog of sleep toward the surface. A pounding, persistent ache throbbing from her left hand and up her arm grew into a sharp pain. She moaned, trying to escape the nightmare, and the bedside light came on.
“Shh, baby girl. It’s all right.”
Lewis’s sleepy voice came from her right. The bed jostled a little.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” Randy’s voice came from her left.
She blinked her eyes and remembered everything. They’d joined her in the bed at some point, as they’d said they would. “Hurts. Not just my hand. My whole arm.” She groaned again. “Damn, and I have to pee.”
“Okay, let’s give you a bit of help getting up.” Lewis stood, and she looked over at him. He was wearing boxers. She grinned when she saw he was hard.
“If you ignore it, so will I,” Lewis said. He had such a cute smile. That and his erection helped her to wake right up.
“It’s kind of hard to ignore.” She guessed things weren’t so bad with her injury if her cheeky self wanted to play. The bedroom window’s drapes were closed, allowing no daylight into the room, if there was any. There was only the soft light from the bedside lamp. Michaela felt as if she’d slept forever. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to behave,” Randy said. “We’re determined to be proper gentlemen, here.”
She looked to her left. Randy also sported boxers and a hard-on. Despite the pain she was in, her hormones were tossing off their sleepiness and were ready to rumba.
“Where’s the fun in that?” She thought it was a reasonable question, under the circumstances.
“Oh, we’re going to have fun, baby girl, don’t you worry about that.” Lewis offered her his hand, and she took it. He patiently waited for her to wiggle toward him, and then he helped her to stand up.
“Would you like something to eat? You’ve been asleep since this afternoon, and it’s well into the night.”
“Yeah. I’m a bit hungry, but I don’t know that I’ve got anything in the house that I feel like eating.”
“Well, as it happens, I went out and got a few things this afternoon,” Randy said. “And then Aunt Bernice dropped off some homemade chicken soup
