I looked at the puddle, then at the shelf where the rags sat. “I need fewer witnesses.”
“That isn’t on the shelf.”
“It should be.”
She laughed softly.
That sound had no business hitting as hard as it did. Yesterday, she’d laughed on my dock with her skin warm undermy hands and her hair loose around her shoulders. Today, she stood three feet from the hours clipboard with her tote on her shoulder and four more hours to earn.
I took one rag from the shelf and dropped it over the puddle.
Daphne watched my hand.
I watched her watch my hand.
Tyler cleared his throat from the doorway. “Should I go screen compost again?”
“Yes,” I said.
He pointed toward the bins. “I respect that quick decision.”
“You should respect it while moving.”
Tyler moved.
Daphne bit her lip. She stopped as soon as she saw me notice, but she was too late. My fingers tightened around the wet rag, and I bent to wipe the floor before she could read anything on my face.
The P-Patch was already bright and loud outside the shed. Bees worked the purple flowers near the gate. The sun pressed heat into the tomato rows. The peppers flashed green and red under Birdie’s straw hat, and Gus dragged a bucket along the south fence with steady patience.
I wrung the rag into the bucket and reached for the clipboard. “Phones in bags. Water before work. You know the routine.”
Daphne slipped her tote onto the shelf. “I was hoping today’s routine included fewer surprise plumbing events.”
“I don’t make promises about plumbing.”
“That sounds like something a man says after mopping the shed.”
“I didn’t lose.”
She glanced at the wet floor.
“I fixed it eventually,” I said.
Her mouth curved. “Very diplomatic.”
Birdie called from the peppers, “If that leak starts again, I want warning.”
Daphne looked over her shoulder. “I’ll take notes.”
I took one bottle from the cooler and handed it to Daphne. I kept my fingers clear of hers this time. She noticed that too, and the little dip in her gaze made my chest pull tight.
She twisted the cap open and drank.
A bead of water clung to her lower lip.
I picked up the tubing crate before my attention got any worse. “You’re with me on the drip line along the south row. Tyler’s on compost. Gus has fence-edge clearing. Birdie has peppers and whatever else she decides I forgot.”
Birdie lifted one hand. “That will take all morning.”
