Lincoln tapped the soldering tool against another point, then he nodded, apparently satisfied.
“I’m ready for a break,” he admitted, standing up and taking off his glasses. He looked at her curiously, his eyes narrowed. “Why are you flushed?” he asked, turning off the giant magnifying lens that had a bright light to illuminate whatever one was working on.
Kinsley touched her cheek. “Oh. Am I?”
“I’m starving,” he said.
Kinsley brightened, thrilled that he wanted to spend his lunch break with her. “Well, I made some chicken over the weekend. It isn’t much, but…”
“I love chicken,” he grinned. Putting a hand to the small of her back, he led her out of his workspace and through the doorway.
But when they were outside, Kinsley stopped, frozen in place as she took in the amazing structure in front of her. Instead of the grassy space where they’d set up a couple of folding chairs each day for their lunch, there was a beautiful, wooden pergola.
“What is this?” she whispered, stepping closer but not going inside.
Lincoln shrugged, looking at her, then at the structure, his hands fisted on his hips. If Kinsley had bothered to look at him, she would have seen an odd look in his eyes. But she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from the beautiful pergola!
“Late Friday afternoon, I had an idea and wanted to see if I could build one.”
Kinsley turned, finally looking up at the man. He looked…oddly confused.
“You built this?” she asked softly, amazed.
He shrugged one shoulder and if Kinsley had to put a name on his expression, she’d say that Lincoln Meyers looked adorably self-conscious. “Yeah. It was just a mental challenge.”
“When?”
He stepped up onto the wooden floor of the pergola, looking up at the ceiling. “I started it Friday night. I finished it yesterday afternoon.” He reached up and pushed against one of the support beams. “Do you like it?” He asked.
“I love it!” she gushed, stepping into the area. There was enough space for five or six chairs, but at the moment, there were only two with a large table in the center. Upon closer inspection, Kinsley realized that the table could convert into a fire pit. A gas fire pit! “Oh wow, this is amazing, Linc!”
He looked down at her, an odd light in his eyes.
Kinsley realized what she’d just said and blinked. “Sorry. Lincoln,” she corrected quickly.
He shrugged, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his jeans. “I don’t mind.”
“Does anyone else call you Linc?” she asked curiously.
He chuckled and shook his head. “They wouldn’t dare.”
For some reason, Kinsley felt as if something important had passed between them. But since she didn’t understand what, she reverted to the comfort of food, hefting her fabric bag. “I hope you’re hungry.”
She pulled out the containers of chicken and biscuits that she’d just warmed in the kitchen’s oven.
“This looks great, Kinsley,” he told her as he took the plate she handed him and loaded it with two pieces of chicken and two biscuits. “My mom used to make the best biscuits when I was a kid.” He took a bite of her biscuits and…froze, eyes wide.
Kinsley froze too, a desperate, gnawing ache forming in the pit of her stomach. “Are they okay? I can’t imagine they are as good as your mom’s but…are they okay?”
He nodded eagerly. “These are amazing!” He took another bite, rolling his eyes with pleasure. “They are actually better than my mom’s, but don’t ever let her know that I said that.”
Kinsley’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly with his praise and she relaxed back in the chair. After that, their conversation was lighter, back to their previous repartee where he teased her and she felt comfortable enough to tease him back. But he also revealed a great deal about his childhood and she warmed to him even more.
“I’d better get back to work,” she sighed after their lunch was over and they’d eaten more than half of the cookies she’d brought.
“That was delicious, Kinsley. Thank you for lunch.” He paused thoughtfully as he helped her pack up the remaining food. “I really enjoy our lunches together, but don’t feel that you have to do this every day.”
She stopped and looked at him, trying to hide the panic she felt at the thought of not having this special moment during the day. “Oh, well, I actually…” Kinsley wasn’t sure what to say. “I really enjoy our lunches, too.” Then something occurred to her. “But if you have work that you need to get done, I don’t want to impose on your time.”
He put a hand on hers, slowing her frantic packing. “You aren’t an imposition, Kinsley. Not in any way.”
“Oh.” She knew that there should be something else to say, some teasing remark that would ease the sudden tension shimmering between the two of them. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of what that comment might be.
Looking down, she focused on putting the rest of the food away. He handed her a container and that’s when she saw the scratches on his hands and forearms. “What happened to your hands?”
He looked down, spreading his fingers out, then curling them up to a fist as if testing the abraded skin on his hands and knuckles. “I’ve never built anything like this before,” he admitted, looking up at the structure again. “I struggled with a few of the boards, and some of them got the better of me.”
With that, he collected the bag and headed toward the building.
Kinsley paused, startled by his words. Once again, she felt as if there
