Chapter 16 - Craig #2
Randy burst into laughter. “The worst I could get from them is a splinter.”
I chuckled. “I know. But it didn’t matter.”
His smile returned, and I was entranced by it. “You really got protective from that?”
“The guys at the mill still give me shit about it.”
He chuckled. “That’s sweet, but…”
“Why am I telling you?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I think…” I paused. “It’s small, something most people probably wouldn’t think to mention. But you’re important to me, and I want you to trust that I’ll be open with you.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, tone reflective.
“Come on,” I said, pushing back my chair. “Let’s change that bandage. Do you have supplies in here, or should I get the kit from your workshop?”
“Under the sink,” he replied.
“Ok.” I strode over and retrieved the kit, washed my hands, then wet a paper towel before returning to sit next to Randy. “Let’s see.”
He set his injured arm on the table and allowed me to remove the old bandage.
I used the paper towel to dab away bits of dried blood, then inspected the wound. “It’s looking good.” I touched the edges gently. “It’s not feverish, and doesn’t look like it’s infected.”
“It looked worse than it is,” Randy replied with a chuckle.
I glanced up and met his eyes, then smiled. “I should have listened to you.”
He returned the smile, which turned into a smirk. “You’ll learn.”
I grinned and leaned in to brush a kiss across his cheek. “I don’t regret patching you up, though.”
His eyes were wide as I pulled back.
A stone formed in the pit of my stomach. “Was-was that ok?”
He swallowed and nodded. “Just… unexpected.”
“Would you prefer I ask first?”
He considered the question for several seconds. “I think… if we’re courting… then…” He paused. “I’m not used to affection.”
“Ask first, then.”
He was silent, then shook his head. “No… Maybe… Sometimes… But I think if we set that rule now…” He glanced down. “I might not let myself get used to it.”
“Depends on the situation?” I asked.
He nodded. “I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable with anything in public right now. But… maybe… when we’re alone…”
He swallowed. “It’s ok.”
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much, or if you want me to ask?”
“Ok.”
I leaned in and gently pressed my lips to his.
A soft inhale.
“Was that ok?” I asked.
“Yes,” he breathed.
“Good.” I sat back and turned my attention to his arm. I spread a new layer of ointment on it, then secured it with fresh gauze and wrap. “All set.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile.
“Of course.” I closed the first aid kit, then stood. I grabbed the kit and plates, then carried them to the sink.
I started the water and allowed it to warm before putting the stopper in and adding dish soap. “Do you want me to stay, or do you want me to go home?”
“I don’t know.”
I smiled. “If it matters, I’d love to stay. Get an idea of your life.”
“It’s Saturday,” he replied. “Nothing exciting. I’ll take eggs down to the stand. Walk Russy. Relax.”
“Sounds nice. Mind if I join you?”
There was a beat of silence, then a soft, “I think I’d like that.”
I washed the plates and silverware and set them in the drying rack, then remembered the frying pan. “Do you save your bacon grease?”
“No. I just wait for it to thicken, then wipe it out.”
“Ok.”
I pulled the stopper, washed my hands, then returned to the table—where Randy was working on putting eggs into cartons.
“Need help?”
“Actually…” he started. “Can you do this while I go check for fresh ones?”
“Sure. Anything in particular I need to know?”
“Do more cartons of dozen than half-dozen, but definitely have some halves in there for the people who don’t need a full.”
“Got it.”
“And just this basket,” he continued, motioning to the one in front of him. “The other one has dirty eggs that I keep.”
“Ok.”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek, then sat.
His blush was adorable.
Randy stood, smiled at me, then disappeared out the side door.
I was almost done with the eggs when he returned with a full basket of new ones. He sorted them, handing most over to be packaged, with only a few ending up in his personal pile.
Once all the eggs were ready, he loaded them into a cooler.
“You gonna put clothes on?” he asked, turning to me. “Or do you want to wait here?”
I looked down and chuckled. “Guess now you can tell that I cook bacon in my pajama pants often enough to not worry about grease splatter.”
He smiled. “It was a nice view: hot shirtless lumberjack making bacon.”
I grinned. “Glad you approve. I’ll be right back.”
“Ok.”
I almost ran back up the stairs. Randy was going to let me spend the day with him. Sure, he’d agreed to let me court him, but part of me had expected him to need time to process. I pulled on my shirt—scrunching my nose at the dried sweat smell on it—and my shoes, then raced back downstairs.
“Ready?” he asked from where he and Russy waited by the door.
I grinned. “Ready.”
He reached for the cooler.
“Let me,” I said, swooping in and picking it up.
He laughed. “I wouldn’t have carried it all the way down. I have a little wagon.”
“We can still use the wagon.”
“Maybe I want to watch you carry it down the hill now.”
I grinned. “If that’s really what you want…”
“Naw,” he teased. “I’ll let you use the wagon… this time.”
I set the cooler down and pulled him in for a kiss.
Randy smiled against my lips. “I think I’m starting to like that.”
“Good,” I replied. Then I pecked his lips again. “Shall we?”
He nodded.
We headed out the front door of his cabin and down the porch steps. Then he pulled the wagon out.
Russy ran ahead of us as we walked.
“So does everybody live out here all the time, or are the other places nearby mostly vacation homes?” I asked.
“A mix,” Randy replied. “I’ve got a few full-time neighbors. One or two others keep theirs private. But there’s a good chunk listed on AirStay.”
“So the traffic gets backed up on holiday weekends when everybody’s looking for their turnoff?”
He laughed. “I try not to leave on days when I think there will be a bunch. And I try not to be in the workshop either.”
“Worried about noise complaints?”
He shook his head. “There have been a few times when people pull up thinking my cabin is the one they booked. Almost had to call the cops on some who insisted that they’d booked my place and I had to leave.”
“So they invade your space… and you’re the bad guy?”
“Apparently. I guess there’s a similar-looking cabin on East Lake Drive, past the resort, but the turnoff is weird. People decide the address is wrong, and somehow it’s my fault.”
“Oof, does that happen often?”
“A couple times a year. Most of the time, though, it’s just people who are lost and need directions.”
“I guess I should learn where the turnoffs are.”
“Think you’ll spend the night enough for that?” he teased.
“I hope so!” I laughed. “But no promises on answering the door wearing a shirt.”
“You’re trouble.”
“Only the good kind.”
We reached the road and turned toward the stand. He opened it up and had me set the cooler in a recess, then he pulled several jars and baked goods out and set them on the shelves.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Salsa and goodies baked by my sister-in-law.”
Randy stepped back and motioned that I should do the same. Then he took a photo of the stand.
“And posted,” he said a moment later.
“Posted?”
“To the neighborhood group.”
“Ah.” I paused. “So what’s next?”
He turned to me and smirked. “Round two sounds relaxing.”
I blinked, then a smile spread across my face. “I’m sore, but maybe that’ll fix it.”
“Won’t know until we try.”
I twined my fingers with Randy’s as we walked back up to his cabin, and a few minutes later, I was sinking into his perfection again.