Page 11 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
"Ryder," she says, her voice slightly breathless. "I told you to leave Mr. Asher alone."
"But Mama, he's fixing our water, and he's really strong, and..."
"Baby, he needs to concentrate." She steps into the bathroom to collect her son, carefully avoiding looking directly at me again. "Come on, let's let him work."
"Actually," I hear myself saying before my brain can catch up, "I could use some help. If you've got a minute."
Sierra freezes, her hand on Ryder's shoulder. "Help? I don't know anything about plumbing."
"You don't need to. Just need someone to hold things while I work." It's not entirely true. I can manage this job alone. But something about the careful way she's avoiding my eyes makes me want to keep her close. "Ryder can play in the living room. This shouldn't take long."
She hesitates, glancing between me and her son. "Are you sure? I don't want to get in your way."
"You won't." I turn back to the wall, giving her space to decide. "But it's up to you."
I hear her take Ryder out to the living room, her voice soft as she explains that Mama needs to help fix the water. When she returns, she's carrying a hair tie, pulling her dark brown hair back into a ponytail that exposes the elegant line of her neck.
Focus, Asher. Focus on the work.
"What do you need me to do?" she asks, crouching beside me but keeping careful distance between us.
"Hold this steady while I tighten the fitting." I hand her a section of new pipe, positioning her hands around it. Her fingers are smaller than mine, more delicate, but steady. "Just like that."
We work in relative silence for a few minutes, and I find myself stealing glances at her profile. She's concentrating hard, biting her lower lip in a way that shouldn't be distracting but absolutely is.
"So," I say, trying to fill the quiet with something other than my awareness of her proximity. "You said you're good with numbers. What kind of work did you do before?"
Her hands tighten slightly on the pipe. "Just basic bookkeeping. Nothing fancy."
"For who?"
A pause. Too long. "A small business. In California."
The way she says it tells me there's more to the story. A lot more. But I've learned when to push and when to wait, and Sierra Martinez is clearly someone who needs patience.
"California's a big place," I observe, threading the new fitting into place. "Whereabouts?"
"Southern." Another non-answer, delivered in a tone that suggests the topic is closed.
I let it drop, focusing on the repair while my mind works through what I'm learning. She's running from something, that much is obvious. The fear I saw in her eyes last night when she thought I was someone else, and the careful way she parcels out information tells me everything I really need to know.
Whatever happened in California, it wasn't good.
"What brought you two to Oregon?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.
Her motions stutter as she adjusts her grip on the pipe as I work. "Ryder and I needed a change of scenery."
"Eden Ridge's pretty quiet compared to California."
"That's the point." The words slip out before she can stop them, and I see her immediately regret the admission. "I mean, we wanted somewhere peaceful. For Ryder to grow up."
Another half-truth. This woman's entire life seems built on them.
"Well, you picked the right place for peace," I say, deciding not to push. "Sometimes I think nothing ever happens here."
That earns me a small smile. "Except for mysterious naked women attacking innocent neighbors with plumbing tools."
The reminder of last night sends heat through my chest. "Not so innocent," I mutter under my breath.
