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He pulled a tool belt out of the bucket. “This frees up your hands and ensures that all of your tools are at the ready. Lift your arms.”
She set down her hammer and lifted her arms. He resolutely ignored the swell of her breasts while strapping the leather belt around her waist. “It’s too big of course.” He cinched it as tight as it would go. “But it’ll stay up. Your hammer goes here.” He showed her the loop made for the hammer, and she slid it into place.
“How clever. I love it.” She threaded the crowbar through another loop. “Shall we continue?”
Was there any sight more arousing than a beautiful woman wearing a leather tool belt?
Not that he’d ever seen such a sight before. This would be his new benchmark for arousing sights.
Without thinking, because his hands knew what to do and he always kept busy, he began helping her pry another board loose.
They worked side by side, finding the rhythm that worked best, she taking the first nails and moving down the row while he lifted the board, making it easier for her.
She was dirty and disheveled, but there was a new kind of smile on her face, a less guarded one. It made him want to smile back.
It was such a disconcerting sight, this lady with a capital “L” working with him, down on her knees, in the dust and dirt.
He’d never worked with a woman before, much less a woman wearing tight trousers that strained over her rounded bum every time she bent over.
Their hands kept brushing accidentally on purpose.
She paused for a moment, wiping her brow. “It’s hard work.”
“But it’s an honest profession. I come from a long line of carpenters. My father, and his father before him. Most of them were house builders. I’m the first to join the navy as a carpenter.”
His father’s hands were these large gnarled things, swollen and battered. Bruises under the nails. They would be his hands soon enough.
“I’ve never been on a boat before,” she said.
“Now that’s an experience. Standing on the deck of a ship, the vast ocean on every side and you floating in a tiny speck of wood, iron, and pitch—the only thing between you and the briny depths. It’s an awful lot of faith we put in the craftsmanship of man when we go out for months at a time.”
“An awful lot of faith inyou, Ford. Have you seen battles?”
“One. And one was enough. I emerged unscathed when others died. They say I saved lives.”
“You’re very resourceful.”
“I’m the man you want to have around in case of an emergency. I think about that sometimes. What if there was a flood, or something catastrophic happened, and civilization was upended. I’d be the one who survived.”
“There’s a word for that—apocalypse, from Church Latin,apocalypsis, meaning revelation. Though that generally refers to the end of the world.”
“I’m not talking about the world ending. I’m talking about some catastrophic natural event that returned civilization to the wilderness. I’d be the one with useful skills. Real skills. Noblemen wouldn’t survive without their servants and their silver tea sets. I never rely on others to do for me. I don’t need anyone or anything.”
“I would find a way to survive. Just look at how I’m learning to remove floorboards.”
“You’re surprisingly useful.”
“Thank you.”
“All right, tell me this, if you were washed ashoreon a desert island and you could only take one item with you, what would it be?”
“Are you assessing my likelihood of survival?”
“Yes.”
She pulled a few more nails before answering. “I’d bring a book.”
“Ha.” Ford laughed. “Typical.”
