He slammed the axe down with extra force, passing through the log and impaling it into the chopping block. Dang. He was acting like a lovesick school boy, not a grown man. He shook his head and wiped his brow. He didn’t even know who Amaryllis was now; he just knew of her.
He’d watched her as a kid and followed her through her aunt since returning to Snowy Hollow. She fascinated him as much as an adult as she had as a teenage girl; he couldn’t hear enough stories about her. Now, by all accounts, she had a blossoming career as an office assistant. She’d even been to Europe to fashion shows with her new boss.
Europe. He’d been overseas as a soldier, but that didn’t mean he’d seen the sights.
She was going to hate being back in small town Alberta.
Yup. He’d be keeping his distance. He loved it here, and she was a city girl. What was he doing thinking about her? He had no interest in dating and no business coveting Ophelia’s niece.
He slammed the axe through a log in frustration. It stuck fast. He jerked on the handle to free it from the block. It refused to come loose. Remembering Ophelia’s advice, he kicked the handle sharply from the side. The axe shuddered. He grasped it and yanked it free. Time to stack what he’d cut and go inside.
“You trying to kill that axe?” a cheery female voice called out. “What did it ever do to you?” she asked.
His heart thundered. The axe clattered to his feet. He whirled round to face the speaker.
Amaryllis.
Already? She shouldn’t be here yet.
“Amaryllis, you’re early. Days early.”Great, way to impress her with your observation skills.He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He was totally inept. He hadn’t dated since ... since accidentally impregnating his girlfriend, Kiya. She was the mother of his child, the woman who left him a widower.
“Owen.” She crossed her arms over her chest and titled her head left, right eyebrow raised. “Call me Rill. All my friends do.”
“Amaryllis, you’re early,” he repeated. The yard light highlighted the long strands of her hair hanging beneath her perky wool beanie.
“Yeah, you said that.” She laughed. “I caught an earlier flight. I sat in the airport and managed to get on standby. I was hoping to get here before Auntie O left. Traffic was nuts. Accidents everywhere. Nothing serious according to the radio, just enough to delay me. And, it’s Rill.”
“She left this morning. Have you got a bag? A vehicle?”Good work. You’re keeping it professional, he congratulated himself mentally.Don’t think about her soft curves and long legs. Can it, Rose, stop being a letch.
“I parked in the side lot. My bag is already in the apartment. I told the desk girl, what’s her name? Jilly? Anyway, I told her she could go. The snow’s really coming down, as you probably noticed. I didn’t want her to get in an accident if the roads get worse.”
“Good idea, thanks. I should have thought of that myself.” He nodded toward the main lodge. “Go on inside, before you get chilled. I’ll just stack this wood and be right in.”
“I’ll give you a hand.” She pulled leather work gloves from her jacket pocket. She slipped them on and started stacking wood in the crook of her left arm.
“You’ll wreck your jacket,” he warned. He certainly hadn’t expected her to pitch in and didn’t know what else to say. Stacking wood was part of his job, not that he minded the assistance.
“This old thing?” She chuckled. “This is my work jacket. Good old sturdy canvas.”
“Pretty fancy for a work jacket,” he noted. The pockets, sleeves, and hem were embroidered with daisies and pink flowers.
“It is fancy, right?” She grabbed two more chunks. “It’s from my sewing class days. I figured if I had to have a work jacket, I’d have a pretty one. I embroidered it on the high-tech machine at school in grade eleven. I only ever wear it here. It’s held up well though. I might be doing dirty jobs, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look good.”
The black canvas jacket was well faded, though the flowers were still bright. She always had a flare for fashion, putting together looks that shouldn’t work but somehow did. Back in the day, she’d showed up in a new fashion creation almost weekly.
“Well, if it’s a work jacket...” He gathered up some wood and carried it to the back of the inn where he stacked it neatly on the porch below the large overhanging eaves.
“The inn looks good,” she commented, placing her armload on the pile. “Stone ages so beautifully, and the woodwork is perfectly stained. Did you do that? It was starting to get ragged last time I was here.”
“I did.” He let the conversation trail off as he hurried back to the mass of wood he’d chopped. He was cooling off and wanted to be inside.
“Thanks for that. It looks great.”
She kept up with him, armload for armload, until the cut wood was all stacked neatly on the porch. “I’ll meet you inside. I just have to put the axe away and lock the shed.”
He hurried away. He needed time alone. Time to adapt to how lovely she was in person and how shocked he was that she’d pitched in. There was something crazy attractive about a woman with a good work ethic. His wife had been content to stay home and do nothing, using her pregnancy as an excuse to sit around or drink tea with her friends. Not that he’d minded, exactly. He’d been proud to be able to provide for all their needs without her having to work.
