Page 17 of Wild Claim

Her tone was light, teasing, but I caught the flicker of hope in her eyes. It made me want to retreat, to guard the fragile distance between us. Instead, I muttered, “Is that right?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, pouring coffee into a mug. Our fingers brushed as she handed it to me, and I jerked back, nearly spilling the hot liquid.

“Careful,” she murmured, her eyes searching my face. I looked away, staring down at the steam rising from the mug.

“So,” Mina finally said, leaning against the counter. “Where should we start? The broken window? The roof? Or maybe...” Her voice trailed off as she glanced towards the barn, visible through the kitchen window.

“The roof,” I said gruffly. “We’ll start with the roof shingles. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Mina hurried around the counter and over to a small storage chest beside the pantry cabinet. The sound of her rummaging through a toolbox snapped me back to the present. She returned with a hammer, holding it up with a smile. “Ready when you are, teacher.”

I stared at her, at the way the sunlight caught in her hair, at the warmth in her eyes that seemed to reach for something buried deep inside me. And for a moment, I let myself wonder what it might be like to let her in.

“You seem lost in thought,” she said, her eyes searching mine. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just wondering how much blasted cheerier you can get.”

“Well, someone’s got to balance out all that grumpiness of yours, right?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but her proximity, the way her honey-scented hair danced around her face as she laughed, and the way my chest tightened in her presence all conspired against me. Instead, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away.

Her lips parted slightly, and I stopped a hair’s breadth from her, close enough to see the tiny flecks of color in her eyes. Every instinct screamed at me to pull back, to run, but something stronger held me in place.

Something dangerous.

With a slow, deliberate movement, I reached toward her and took the hammer from her hand. Her fingers lingered on the handle for a moment, as if letting go meant releasing whatever this was between us.

“The roof won’t fix itself.” I stepped back and turned towards the door, not daring to look at her. If I saw hurt in her eyes, or worse,relief, I didn’t know what it would do to me.

The crisp November air bit my face as we stepped outside. Mina stood beside me, her arms crossed against the chill, cheeks flushed pink.

“Well?” she said, tilting her head back to look at the damaged roof. “How do we start?”

I pulled on a pair of worn gloves; the leather cracked from years of use. Mina had said they came from some clothing donation, but they fit well enough. “Up there,” I said, nodding toward the ladder leaning against the house. “You wanted to learn, didn’t you?”

“Does it have to be the roof this soon? I thought maybe we’d start with something on the ground?”

“Afraid of heights suddenly?”

“No,” she said quickly, squaring her shoulders. “Just... cautious.”

“Good. Caution will keep you alive up there.” Part of me wanted to tell her to forget it, to go back inside, where it was safe and warm. But another part, a part I’d thought long buried, recognized the need to do what had to be done. “I’ll go up first,” I said, gripping the ladder rungs. “Watch where I put my hands and feet. And for your sake, don’t look down.”

I climbed steadily. When I reached the top, I turned to see Mina following, her movements slow but deliberate. I instinctively reached for her hand as she climbed up.

She hesitated for a moment, then grasped it. I pulled her up onto the roof, acutely aware of how close she was again, how her breath came in short, nervous puffs.

“Not so bad, right?” I said, my voice gruffer than I intended.

Mina laughed shakily. “Ask me again when we’re back on solid ground.”

We carefully made our way across the sloped surface. I pointed out the damaged shingles, explaining how water could seep in and rot the wood beneath.

“So, how do we fix it?” She kneeled to examine a warped section.

I crouched beside her. “We’ll start by removing the damaged shingles,” I said, reaching for the pry bar in my tool belt. “Then we’ll—”

A sudden gust of wind whipped across the roof, catching us both off guard. Mina lost her balance, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Without thinking, I lunged forward, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against me.

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