Page 13 of 40 and (So Over) Fixing It
Thad frowned. “Won’t you come with us? Uncle JD said you knew everything about the big crane and bulldozer.”
Erin smiled down at him. “We can take a look at those another time, okay, Thad? I’d be happy to let you sit in the cabin—while the machinery is off, of course. Safety first!”
Her chipper tone eased Thad’s displeasure. As Erin entered the shed and the three of them headed back up the mountain, Carter mulled over the influence she seemed to have over his child. It looked like not only did he need to keep himself away from her, but Thad as well. The few days they had here were for the two of them, not the two of them and some woman.
He’d have to make sure of it.
ChapterSix
Erin’s day started at four thirty, long before the first streaks of autumn light appeared on the horizon. Bessie wasn’t waiting any longer than that to be fed and milked, and the chorus of her loud mooing and the horses nickering and bumping at the gate of their pasture—conveniently right near her house, on the same side as her bedroom window—woke her far before her alarm. Dragging on clothes in the dark was accompanied with fumbling and curses, but finally she was ready to walk over and feed the animals. She then spent a good twenty minutes with her forehead pressed against Bessie’s warm belly while she filled the milk pail with the daily offering. The fact that Scott was securing the clasps of his overalls at his shoulders, ready to head out to the barn, when she brought in the milk only emphasized the need to replace Gary as soon as possible. Her father-in-law was definitely stubborn.
Maybe being around him so much was where she got it from.
From there it was on to the job site, a trip Erin made easily since Willard was busy scratching at the feed she’d laid out before heading toward her truck. The crew spent the morning adding to the steel frame of the lodge. Between supervising and spelling some of her guys on the equipment so they could have breaks, she spent her time on e-mails to vendors and phone calls with everyone on the planet, it seemed. But noon finally came, and she was determined to take her lunch break just like her crew.
A couple of years after they married, Stephen had helped her convert their small barn into a workshop. Woodworking had always been her hobby, and even now, working as a general contractor, she found it soothing to build things in her off time, albeit on a smaller scale than she did during her workdays. But she couldn’t get back to her house every day for lunch, so she’d asked JD’s permission to convert a small shed on the property—although the termshedmight be a bit too glamorous for the old lean-to—into a workspace that she could putter around in during breaks.
Her current project, a new tiered display stand for Claire’s latest addition to the bakery’s menu, macarons, was coming along nicely. Erin was running the sander over the butcher block boards she intended to cut for the individual trays when she heard the telltale shriek of the old door being pulled open behind her.
Powering down the sander was the work of a moment, as was pulling up her safety glasses, but by the time she turned around, a figure half her size was right in front of her. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi!”
She had to admit, Thadeus Deveraux was adorable. His wide grin was missing a couple of teeth on the side, and the mop of dark blond, curly hair on his head made her fingers itch to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked. His blue eyes sparkled with life, although she could see depths there that she thought hid pain. Carter was divorced, Lily had said. Fairly recently, too. Had his parents’ breakup put those shadows in Thad’s beautiful eyes?
“Thad, right?” she asked, returning his grin. “How are you doing today?”
“Good!”
Everything he said seemed to come with an exclamation point. She could hear it in his voice, in the little jump his body gave when he responded. It was absolutely the cutest thing she’d ever seen.
A glance behind the boy showed nothing but clear space. “Where’s your dad?” Carter was the exact opposite of his son. The man had a glower that would rain on anyone’s parade. It certainly cut the “cute” factor where he was concerned. How he’d managed to produce a kid as beautiful—and happy—as Thad was beyond her.
“He went for his run. He goes every day.”
Of course he did. Why that irked her, she had no idea.
Curious eyes took in her workshop. “Is it okay for me to be in here? I’m not bothering you, am I?”
“It’s fine for you to be in here as long as I am, okay?” She raised her eyebrows at him until he gave her a solemn nod. The contrast with his normal exuberance told her he was taking her seriously. “And absolutely no going up to the work site unless you’ve got your dad or another adult with you. It can be really dangerous.”
“Dad already told me.” He looked at the wood sitting on the table in front of her. “Whatcha makin’?”
Erin ran a gloved hand over the still-rough lamination. “I’m making a display stand for a friend of mine. Have you ever seen anyone put a cake on a little pedestal with a glass bowl over it?”
Thad’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t think so.”
“How about cupcakes?”
The wrinkles smoothed out. “Not at home—we don’t have cake at home much. But at restaurants, yeah!”
Somehow the idea of not allowing a little boy cake fit right in with her impression of Carter. Ignoring the comment, she tilted the block of wood up for Thad to see. “Well, this is sort of like that. See the lines?” She traced her finger over the join between each individual length of wood. “I glued them all together into what is called butcher block. And now I’m sanding it to get rid of any splinters or things that would catch on people’s fingers or food.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Sure.” She watched him run his fingers over the wood. “I’m going to sand this down till it’s completely smooth, and then I’ll be cutting circles out of it, and several more pieces like it, to stack on top of each other in tiers.” She demonstrated with her hands. “Then my friend can put cupcakes or pastries or whatever she wants on them.”
This particular butcher block was made from scraps of wood she’d had lying around her shop at home. The rich yellow of the poplar, creamy white of the maple, and reddish-brown of the birch contrasted beautifully to make a pattern she thought would be a lovely complement to the shop’s interior. And the trees were all native to their local woods. “Have you been to the bakery in town?”
