Chapter Six – Spencer
It had only been a couple of days since Meryl had arrived at Pine Cottage, but to Spencer it felt as if she had always been there, always been part of his life.
Sometimes he had to remind himself it was real.
But then there was the other side of it.
She could be gone as quickly as she had arrived.
Unless you figure out a way to make her stay, his bear reminded him.
Working on it, Spencer said as he got out of his truck and strode toward the house, toolbox in hand.
Meryl was already on the porch when he approached, kneeling beside a stack of lumber with her hair pulled back and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She was marking measurements on a board, her brow furrowed in concentration.
She’s working too hard. She shouldn’t have to do all this herself, his bear grumbled.
She’s not. We’re here for her, Spencer reminded him.
She thinks we’re a contractor. Now, if you told her we were mates, that might change everything.
Spencer ignored his bear as he climbed the newly repaired steps. “Morning.”
Meryl glanced up, and for a brief moment her expression brightened before she schooled it back to business. “Morning.”
“Thought I’d get a head start on the west side of the porch.” He set his toolbox down, noting the dark circles under her eyes. “How long have you been at it?”
“Not long,” she said, though the empty coffee mug suggested otherwise.
Spencer’s bear nudged him. She needs breakfast. Real breakfast, not just coffee.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not food.”
Meryl sat back on her heels and gave him a look that was half exasperation, half amusement. “I don’t remember hiring you as a nutritionist along with a carpenter.”
“Comes free with the package.” He reached into his toolbox and pulled out a paper bag. “I brought muffins from the bakery. Blueberry. They’re still warm.”
Her hesitation was brief, but he caught it, that moment of surprised delight followed by the careful rebuilding of her walls. Walls that seemed a little lower each day.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the bag. “That was thoughtful.”
See? She likes it when we provide, his bear said smugly.
She’s hungry, and no one can resist blueberry muffins, Spencer countered, though he could not deny he liked seeing her happy over the simple things in life.
“Coffee?” Meryl asked, then rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I asked, since you never turn down a good cup of coffee.”
“You know me so well,” Spencer replied, and ducked his head as his cheeks flushed pink.
She does. Day by day, she is getting to know you. But one day soon she needs to get to know me too, his bear agreed.
One day soon, Spencer promised.
While Meryl went inside, he looked over what still needed doing. They might have made the porch safe, but it still needed plenty of work.
“Shall we sit?” Meryl asked when she came back with the muffins and two steaming mugs of coffee. She nodded toward the newly repaired section of the porch. “This is quickly becoming my favorite spot. The views are incredible.”
“The mountains and trees never get old, no matter how many times I see them,” Spencer said as he sat beside her on the porch and took the mug she handed him.
The coffee was hot and strong. The blueberry muffin was still warm in the middle. For a few minutes, they simply sat there in the morning sun with the scent of pine in the air and the cottage behind them, not talking much, not needing to.
It should have felt awkward.
Instead, it felt far too easy.
Meryl broke off a piece of muffin and looked out toward the overgrown garden. “This is not how I pictured my week going.”
“No?”
She glanced sideways at him. “I definitely didn’t picture sharing breakfast on a half-fixed porch with a man who keeps appearing with tools and opinions, but here we are.”
That made him smile into his coffee. “I try to be useful.”
“You are useful,” she said, then seemed to hear herself and added, “Annoyingly so.”
She likes us being here, his bear said, delighted.
Spencer chose not to answer that.
Instead, he looked at the cottage, at the patched boards and weathered stone catching the light. “It’s starting to look better.”
Meryl followed his gaze. “I suppose it is.” She paused. “But it’s a slow process. Slower than I thought. Every time I seem to take a step forward, I unearth something else and take two steps back.”
“Not everything needs to be rushed,” he said, staring out at the mountains. “If you slow down, the process becomes more enjoyable.”
“I didn’t come here to enjoy the process,” she replied sharply.
He looked at her then, meeting her gaze. “That doesn’t mean you can’t allow yourself to.”
Meryl looked away first, back toward the garden and the mountains beyond it.
“You’re right,” she said quietly.
“That’s because I am.”
She gave a short laugh. “Such self-confidence, Spencer.”
“I prefer hopeful and optimistic. You can either fight what needs to be done or accept it. Accepting it takes far less energy. Energy you can put into doing the thing.”
A corner of her mouth lifted, and for a second the look she gave him was unguarded enough to make his heart skip.
Then she stood, brushed the crumbs from her jeans, and set her empty mug aside. “You’re right. So let’s put our energy into doing the thing.”
“Yes. That’s the spirit. The sooner we get started, the sooner it’ll be done,” Spencer said.
And the sooner Meryl might put the cottage on the market, his bear grumbled.
Or the sooner she might see what this place could really be. What her life here could be, Spencer replied.
“Oh, I don’t think we’re going to be finished anytime soon.” She glanced toward her notebook. “My list keeps getting longer, not shorter.”
That made him laugh, and they went back to work, the brief tension between them gone.
They fell into their now-familiar rhythm, Meryl measuring and marking while Spencer cut and secured the new porch boards. The morning slowly warmed, and somewhere in the distance a woodpecker drummed against a tree.
“You’re getting good at this,” Spencer observed as Meryl confidently positioned a joist hanger.
She glanced up, a flash of pride crossing her face before she shrugged. “I have a good teacher.”
It was a simple compliment, but to Spencer it meant so much. More than she could ever know.
Our mate is clever. She learns quickly, his bear preened.
She’s not ours yet, Spencer reminded him, though the word yet slipped in before he could stop it.
By midday, they had completed half of the west side of the porch. Spencer straightened, stretching his back, just as Meryl stepped into the front room and tried to pull the window down. It scraped along the frame and then stuck fast.
She frowned and pushed harder. The sash shifted another inch, then caught again.
“Problem?” Spencer asked, already heading toward the doorway.
Meryl glanced back at him. “This thing keeps doing that.” She gave it another tug. “I get it nearly shut, and then it decides to fight me.”
He came up beside her. “Here, let me.”
She stepped back, and he put one hand on the frame, testing the drag before easing the sash down lower, until it scraped the frame again and stuck fast.
Meryl folded her arms. “See?”
“I see.” He looked at the brass catch, then at the frame. “It’s not far off. Just a little out of line.”
“That describes quite a lot about this house.”
That won a smile from him.
She can see the funny side, his bear approved.
Spencer ignored that and gave the window one last look before stepping back toward the porch. “I’ll deal with it later.”
Meryl raised an eyebrow. “Shall I add it to the list?”
“I already have.” He tapped the side of his head. “Mentally.”
“That sounds dangerous.” She glanced at her notebook.
“Only if you don’t trust my memory.”
She gave him a look that said she was still deciding, but instead of adding it to her list, she turned her attention to a stack of salvaged boards.
She trusts us, his bear said happily.
“Need a hand?” Spencer asked as Meryl wrestled with a long board.
She looked up, breathless and faintly annoyed. “I’m trying to move this before I trip over it.”
“Here.” He crossed the porch and reached for the board, his fingers brushing against hers. For a heartbeat, all he could think of was the way his skin tingled where they touched and the electricity coursing through his veins.
When he risked a glance at Meryl, her eyes had gone wide, and he knew she felt the same.
Then she broke contact and let go of the board. Without a word, because he did not trust himself to speak, Spencer lifted the board free, carrying it to the side of the porch where the keep pile was beginning to form.
“That was annoyingly easy,” she observed, her arms folded across her body. “For you.”
“That’s because you were trying to do it the difficult way,” he teased.
“The difficult way.” That earned him a look, but there was a spark of humor in it now. “It wouldn’t have been difficult if I had your muscles.”
She’s teasing us, too. Again, his bear said, delighted.
The work settled into a steadier rhythm after that. Meryl measured and sorted while Spencer cut and fitted. They moved around each other with less hesitation, passing tools back and forth, stepping aside at the right moment without needing to ask.
Then his stomach growled. Loud enough this time that even he could not pretend it hadn’t.
Meryl looked up from the board she was sanding and raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”
He rubbed his stomach. “I’m choosing to ignore it.”
“You might be able to, but it’s loud enough to frighten the birds.” She set her tools down. “I’ll make sandwiches.”
Before he could object, she had already gone inside.
Spencer went back to work, then paused and glanced at the front room window. He had watched Meryl fight with it more than once now. And he hated to see her struggle when the repair should have been relatively simple.
He fetched a screwdriver and a bit of wax from his toolbox and set to work. The latch had slipped just enough to make the sash catch every time it moved.
It only took him a few minutes to ease the screws out, reset the catch, and smooth the sticking edge. When he lifted the window again, it opened cleanly and settled where it should. The latch now shut with a satisfyingly smooth click when he closed it.
That was for her, his bear said.
Isn’t everything? Spencer asked.
Oh, yeah, his bear replied.
Meryl came back carrying a plate of sandwiches just as he stepped away from the window. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing this.” He nodded toward the sash. “Try it.”
She set the plate down and put her hand on the frame. The window lifted smoothly, no scrape, no resistance. She lowered it again and fastened the latch. Opened it once more. Closed it.
Her fingers rested on the brass catch for a second longer than necessary.
“You fixed it.”
“It was only the latch.”
“Still.” Her gaze shifted to him briefly, then back to the window. “Thank you.”
He nodded once, suddenly not trusting himself to say anything useful.
They ate their sandwiches perched on the porch steps, shoulder to shoulder this time. The bread was fresh, the ham sharp with mustard, and the company was growing more comfortable by the hour.
“This is almost as good as the muffins,” he said.
Meryl nudged him lightly. “Almost? Are you saying you don’t appreciate my culinary skills?”
“I have a sweet tooth,” Spencer tried to explain.
“The muffins were exceptional,” she agreed lightly as she bit into her sandwich.
Good save, his bear murmured as he settled down for an afternoon nap.
After that, the last hour of work passed quickly. They secured more boards, marked out what would need proper lumber the next day, and stacked the salvaged timber in a neater pile beside the shed.
By the time Spencer packed up his tools, the porch was beginning to look less like something waiting to collapse and more like something solid again.
Meryl stood with her notebook tucked under one arm, looking over what they’d done.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
She looked at him with a smile that robbed him of breath. “I’ll have coffee ready.”
“I look forward to it,” Spencer replied.
But you look forward to seeing our mate more, his bear said as Spencer loaded the last of the tools into the truck.
Of course. Spencer got in the truck and started the engine.
As he drove away, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Meryl was still standing on the porch, watching him. The sight stayed with him long after the cottage disappeared behind the trees.