Page 40 of Snowbound

Not that being in the house is a particular problem. It’s where Carly is. And lately, whenever Carly and I are alone in the same room, it has ended in unity. Which is all well and good, but I’ve got just over two weeks to do all of this woodwork as well as a job to go to. Something is going to have to give.

I decided to just go for it first with the horse. Benches are easy. Benches are three slabs of wood stuck together. But sculpture…

I’m a mechanic. I’m not an artist. As soon as I sat down to get to work, I regretted suggesting a horse. Do you know how hard horses are to draw, let alone cut out of wood? I’ve decided to go for something a little bit abstract to give myself room to make things imperfect. It’s blocky and goofy-looking, but honestly, it’s not turning out as badly as I might have expected.

They still would have been better off asking a professional, but they asked me, and I’ve spent enough time ignoring them over the last couple of years. The least I can do is help them out with their wedding.

We all used to be so close. What happened to that? I don’t need an answer because I know it’s me, but the more I dwell on it, the more I regret being so distant for these past few years. I don’t exactly think I would have relied on them, but it might have been nice to not be completely isolated from the world.

But if I hadn’t done that, my life wouldn’t have put me on a path that let me meet Carly. Sometimes things happen because they’re meant to be. I’m not a great believer in fate. God knows I’m not a believer in true love. But Carly puts me at ease in a way that no one has for a really long time. I should mind having someone in my house, in my space, in my time, but she makes it easy.

I admire that she’s self-made and has gritty determination, not to mention that she’s beautiful.

And she’s really good in bed. Like, amazing.

It’s obviously not the most important thing about her, but I can’t say it doesn’t help.

Honestly, if I was looking for a relationship, she would be it. She clicks with me in a way I would never have anticipated. But neither of us is looking for a relationship, so this is just going to be fun while it lasts.

I’m trying to make peace with that.

“Damn,” I curse as sandpaper runs over my knuckles. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but I let myself be distracted by my own thoughts.

I stop and sit back, and that’s when I feel a pair of eyes on my back. I glance over my shoulder to see Carly leaning in the doorway.

“Coffee?” she asks, holding out a mug.

“How did you know?”

“Intuition?” She grins and walks into the workshop. I say workshop. It’s a shed in my backyard that doesn’t get used as much as I would like.

I never seem to have the time to work on anything. Something I keep telling myself I’m going to fix. I spend so much time in the shop that by the time I get home, I have no energy to be thinking of something creative.

“It’s looking great,” says Carly. “I love watching you work.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

She blinks a couple of times and bites her lip. “A few minutes. Four or five. Maybe six.”

“You don’t think it looks too stupid, do you?”

“Not even a bit. I’m sure they’re going to love it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. What matters is that you made it with love.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at that.

“You’re such a grump.” She grins, wandering over to hand me the coffee and kiss my forehead.

Reflexively, I flinch away from the action, but if I’m being entirely honest, it feels nice.

It feels nice to have someone who cares enough to think to bring me a coffee when I’m working hard or compliment me on a crappy-looking piece of wood.

“Don’t worry,” she says again. “I’ve worked with hundreds of people in my career. I know for a fact that they’re going to like this. They’ll like it because it came from you.”

“If you say so.”

“Why are you so reluctant to believe me?”

“Why are you so desperate to get me to?” I stare firmly back at her stern expression, but as she leans in, I catch a whiff of that sweet, sweet perfume she wears, and for a second I’m knocked down by the thought of her. It’s like she was designed to wind me up, to lure me in and trap me.

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