For a moment, neither of us said anything.
I slipped my hand into his.
His fingers closed around mine immediately.
"You believe me," I said.
Zane looked down at me. "Yes, Daphne. I believe you."
My eyes stung again.
"Please don't be nice about the tire thing forever," I said. "I'll get weird."
His mouth curved. "You're already weird."
"That sounded affectionate."
"It was."
I let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
Outside, the sun stayed bright over the P-Patch. The repaired drip line kept doing its quiet work in the soil. Somewhere down the road, a truck engine faded toward town.
Zane folded my note into his palm. His other hand stayed around mine.
"We'll handle this," he said.
I pressed my thumb to the rough edge of his knuckle and pulled in one clean breath.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Daphne walked through the P-Patch gate, and every practical thought in my head went straight to hell.
She wore denim shorts, a green tank top, and her hair twisted up off her neck with loose brown pieces already falling around her face. The outfit was fine for garden work, sensible even. That didn't help me much, because the sun hit her shoulders, her legs were bare, and I remembered exactly how she'd felt against me at Beargrass Lake.
I tightened my grip on the clipboard.
Four hours remained on her sheet. One clean sign-out stood between Daphne and the end of anything that made me her supervisor.
After that, I was just a man who wanted her in my bed and had run out of decent reasons to pretend otherwise.
Daphne stopped in front of me and glanced at the clipboard. "You're making the hours sheet face."
"I have a face for that?"
"You have several official faces. That one says paperwork, rules, and probably hydration."
"It's July. Hydration deserves respect."
Her smile came quick, and the tight place under my ribs eased. Yesterday had ended with Fletcher's name in her handwriting and tears in her eyes. Today, she was here. When our eyes met, she didn't look away.
Fletcher was the problem.
Daphne shifted her tote higher on her shoulder. "Monica texted before I left. She's reviewing the broker materials before her ten o'clock call."
"Good."
"She said not to discuss Cascadia documents on-site."
