The door clunked open.
“Are we to practice landscaping today, Mister Thistlewood?” Sephimara, carrying a bag in each hand, glared at the branch.
I snorked. “I suppose in a way we are. I picked this off the grounds this morning. Came down in last night’s storm.”
“Benevolent of you.”
“You may not think so by the end of today’s session.”
She frowned.
“Yesterday’s exercise surprised me.” I sighed. “I’d been skipping around, trying to teach you what I thought you’d need. And I’ve missed a few things. So today we start from scratch. The rawest of raw materials.”
“Your assistance is appreciated as always.” Sephimara peered at the branch, where a few dead leaves still clung to the tips. Her eyes were tired, missing their usual sparkle.
“It’s good practice for me as well,” I replied.
“I meant yesterday. I would have surely failed that lab assignment without your assistance.”
I shook my head. “You might not have gotten perfect marks, but you would not have failed. You’re picking this up fast. Faster than I did when I first learned.”
Her lips quirked to a slightly lopsided smile as a hint of that luster returned to her green eyes. “Perhaps my weekend instructor has something to do with it.”
My legs wilted like a fern on the hottest day of summer. Why did even the subtlest of compliments from her melt me? Was the idea of such an amazing person respecting me as enticing as her being attracted to me?
Fighting the urge to take half a step closer, I replied, “Perhaps he does.”
“Was there something else you wished to add?”
Yes. Sephimara, I consider myself fortunate that your lips and eyes are as alluring as those lovely long legs of yours, or I would surely be staring at them in a most unseemly manner.
She cocked her head ever so slightly as the tip of her tongue poked between her lips.
Uuuugh,that.Does she haveany ideawhat thatgesture does to my poor brain?
I shook my head. “Let’s get started.”
“As you wish.” I could swear she winked before stepping to the nearest maple wood crafting table and setting her two bags atop it. “Which tools will I need for this project?”
“For now, just the handsaw.”
I guided her through the process of trimming off the smaller twigs while letting her feel the awkward shape of the branch, letting her set it in the clamp in a position convenient for her stature. I handed her one of my tools. “It’s called a drawknife. Good for debarking green wood.”
She examined the tool, which had a handle at either end of the blade. “I will not be obliged to sharpen some shabby, secondhand tool?”
“It’s definitely secondhand, possibly shabby, but it’s my tool, and it’s sharp.”
She ran a thumb over the curved blade. “Indeed.”
After a long gaze, she continued. “Do not sell yourself short, Mister Thistlewood. You’ve as much diligence and perseverance as anyone I’ve ever met. You’ve been with me during some rather trying…” her voice trailed off.
Did she want to finally discuss the clipper incident?
“It’s been trying for both of us. I just wish I knew… well, it seems there’s a lot I don’t know.”
“You’ve been a good friend.” She stepped closer,though her gaze drooped downward.
I hesitantly extended a hand.
