Page 36 of Windlass

“Where will you sleep?”

“Couch.”

“Now who’s the idiot?” Angie clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering and very, very deliberately did not look at Stevie. “It’s your bed. We’ll share.”

“Are you . . . sure?”

“I’m cold and wet and tired. I promise I won’t bite you.”

“Wasn’t worried about that,” said Stevie, and Angie couldn’t quite guess her tone, but was pretty sure there was subtext.

She hadn’t lied about being tired and cold, though. Waking up rudely had chilled her despite the warmth of the attic. She gave in to Stevie’s tugging and followed her into the darkness of her room. Marvin snored.

“Lie here.” Stevie folded back the quilt and patted the mattress.

Angie obeyed. The sheets smelled like Stevie. She burrowed beneath the blankets and plumped the pillow up to her satisfaction, mumbling a thank you.

Her last thought before falling back asleep was:and there was only one bed.

Stevie did not sleep. She lay on the other side of the bed, body still on fire from earlier. It did allow her to wake up extra early, make coffee, do farm chores, and locate and haul out the tarps stowed around the property. She left a coffee cup by a sleeping Angie. Rousing her, seeing her stretch and luxuriate in the last grip of slumber in Stevie’s own bed, would be the end of her.

The steaming mug had done the trick, though. Angie emerged out of the front door, wearing that damn sheer tank top and sleep shorts.

Stevie grinned. “Tarpe Diem.”

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” Angie asked as she surveyed the array before her.

“Since I thought of it at, like, three in the morning.”

“Ew, that’s a terrible time to be awake.”

“Well, there was a leak, you may recall. How exactly did you plan on getting these over the roof? And keeping them on?” Stevie asked.

“There’s a ladder in the barn.”

“Oh, goody.” The farmhouse had a big roof; the only advantage to this was the add-on over the mudroom, which created a level surface. Level-ish. Climbing up a ladder onto that roof would be tolerable. It was the rest of the operation that would not.

Stevie went to fetch the ladder. When she returned, Angie was staring up at the roof, shading her eyes from the rising sun, her body language slightly less vulnerable than the previous night, but not by much. Stevie had never seen her so overwhelmed. She pulled out her phone.

How to tarp a roof.

She skimmed the results. Two-by-fours. Screws. Tarp. They had all three somewhere. Yelling back over her shoulder for Angie to stay on the ground while she was gone, she searched the back of the barn for scrap wood, then the workshop for a drill and some screws.

“We need to get up there and secure it with the two-by-fours,” she explained.

“I was hoping we could just weight one side and toss it over. Like a net.” Angie chewed on her lip with a violence it did not deserve.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work.” The wind would whip it off in an instant, and anything heavy enough to resist the wind would tear the tarp.

“But it’s not safe for us to go up there.”

“My job isn’t safe either. I’ll risk it.”

“Wait.” Angie looked around the property but didn’t seem to find what she was looking for. “I changed my mind. I don’t want you up there.”

“I’m not going to fall.”

“You don’t know that.” Angie had gone into her scared kitten posture, as Stevie thought of it, holding herself and hunching her shoulders inwards. A far cry from the woman who had drawn her last night, but this, too, was Angie. Stevie approached cautiously, resting a hand on Angie’s back. She flinched, then leaned into the touch.

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