Tom’s truck pulled back in a few minutes later. He climbed out, surveyed their progress and whistled, appreciative. “Nice work.”
Matt grinned, showed a thumbs-up and jerked his head toward Hank and Buck. “Can you finish up with Hank and Buck?”
“And let you have the pretty girl all to yourself?” Tom drawled. He tipped his wool hat toward Callie, ever the gentleman. “Good thing I’m a happily married man. I might be giving you a run for your money.”
Matt shook his head, pretending indifference, but when he glanced Callie’s way, twin spots of color brightened her cheeks.
The wind, he decided.
“Ready here.”
He started feeding her shingles again, her speed and concentration commendable when it was all he could do not to notice how she moved, the way she handled the nail gun as though born to it, her manner decisive, her gaze intent, her lower lip drawn between her teeth as she squared up each section.
She didn’t talk, she worked, and Matt appreciated that. Talking slowed things down, and they were already racing the clock. Callie understood the time line and stayed focused on the job at hand while Matt had a hard time focusing on anything but her.
A car pulled up. Amanda climbed out, toting a drink tray of fresh coffees from the convenience store at the crossroads.
“She’s a lifesaver,” Callie muttered from behind Matt.
Matt met her gaze and smiled. “I’ll say. Now if she only thought to bring doughnuts…”
Amanda set the tray of large coffees down on the saw table tucked inside the garage of number seventeen, then headed back to the car and pulled out a big box of doughnuts.
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