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He demonstrates what he means, pushing the saw against the trunk and dragging it back and forth with patient rhythm. Sure enough, the teeth of the saw break the bark. Progress.
I put a little of my own effort into it, pleased when it seems like our joint efforts speed up the process slightly.
I focus on the motion of the saw, trying to keep my attention on the progress rather than Mark’s proximity.
When we’re a bit more than halfway through, he tells me to stop and releases the saw.
“But we’re almost done!” I protest.
“Exactly.” He rolls out from under the branches, then crouches down and offers me his hand.
I take it, letting him haul me out and to my feet. I bump against him a little bit awkwardly, my hands on his shoulders.
I risk a glance at his face, curious if the weird awareness is one-sided.
Yup. His face looks just like it always does. Not quite impatient, but neither does he seem like a man who’s overly aware of my feminine charms.
I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or relieved.
Relieved, my brain insists. The last thing I need when I’m trying to hunt down my exes is to start getting sexy thoughts about my BFF.
“All right, remember this from last year?” he asks, pointing at the now leaning tree. “You’ve got the easy part. Just push on it lightly as I saw through the last bit so it falls away from me.”
I lift my fingers to my forehead in a salute. “Don’t let tree crush Mark. Mission accepted.”
Mark’s gaze lifts to my forehead, his eyes tracking the spot where my fingers touched my forehead. Then he gives a faint smile, lifting
his own hand to touch the spot. He rubs his thumb gently over my forehead. “You’ve gone and got dirt all over your face.”
Well, then. That’s sexy.
His eyes lock on mine just for a second as he touches my face, then he pulls his hand back.
“You can put your gloves back on now.”
I take a deep breath. Right.
Mark disappears once more beneath the tree, and after verifying that Rigby’s out of the way of the falling tree, he quickly cuts through the last bit of the trunk.
I push as instructed, and a second later the tree drops softly to the ground.
I extend a hand to help him up, and he lifts his eyebrows at the offer. “You realize I’d be pulling you down rather than you pulling me up.”
My hand shifts until I’m giving him the middle finger, though I doubt he can tell with the gloves on. “I’m trying to be nice. Also, is it just me, or would that entire process have gone a lot faster without me?”
“Probably,” he admits with a grin, pushing to his feet without my help.
I extend my arms to the side so he has to take in the fact that I’m now completely covered in mud on one side. “I’m a mess.”
He looks pointedly down at himself. “So am I.”
“Yes, but—”
I break off, realizing that I’m about to give away the real reason I’d wanted to cut down the tree today as opposed to waiting until tomorrow, when it’s less crowded and when Mr. Gavelroy gives a discount on weekday trees.
“But…” Mark lets the saw swing from one finger and leans forward slightly.
I cross my arms. “Nothing.”
