It takes a lot of stuff to have a complete shop. I’m still outfitting mine.”
“That’s what you need the money for, right? Luke mentioned something about it.”
Jeremy pet Huckleberry’s head. “Yeah, for a band saw. I already have one, but I want to get the Rolls Royce of band saws.”
I laughed. “I didn’t know Rolls Royce made band saws.”
“They don’t. An Italian company called Laguna does.” He grinned at me. “It’s pretty sweet. The one I want is a little under six Gs.”
“Wow. That better be one nice band saw.”
“Trust me. It is.” He led the way through the dining room into the small, but perfectly appointed and completely not-hoarded kitchen, through a tiny back porch that obviously served as a laundry room in that it housed a washer and dryer and smelled deliciously like fresh clean soap, and out the back door onto a wide wooden deck. Huckleberry trotted behind us.
“Don’t tell me,” I said, gesturing at the deck as we crossed it. “You made this too?”
“Yep.” Jeremy stopped and dipped his hands into his back pockets. He rocked back and forth on the deck slats. “What do you think?”
“Just wow.” I shook my head. “Harrison probably couldn’t make a pencil holder. Or a pencil, for that matter.”
“He’d need a lathe for those.” Jeremy pulled his hands back out of his pockets and turned toward the steps that led down to the lawn.
“What’s a lathe?” I asked, following him.
“I’ll show you,” he called over his shoulder.
We walked across an expanse of green lawn to a medium-sized building across the way, about the size of a two-car garage but without the garage door. It had a quaint off-center front door with a small roof hanging just over it and flowerpots on either side filled with red geraniums. It looked like the set of a movie.
When Jeremy opened the door, the smell of fresh wood hit my nostrils. The three of us stepped inside. The shop was a wide space, completely open with tools nearly everywhere. It was filled with machines and cabinets and some big, tube-like contraption that ran along the roofline. “That’s for collecting sawdust,” Jeremy explained, following my gaze. “There’s a whole air filtration system in here.”
“Nice,” I said, to be polite because I had no earthly idea what I was looking at.
Huckleberry took a seat atop a comfy-looking gray dog bed that sat near the door. He circled around in it two or three times before settling into it.
“Here’s the lathe,” Jeremy announced, distracting my attention from the dog.
Jeremy stood next to a shiny, metal machine near the wall that looked a lot like a black and silver sawhorse. “It’s for making anything round. Bowls, pencil cases, pencils.”
“So this is what I should buy Harrison for Christmas to get his pencil-making business off the ground?”
“If he’s interested.” Jeremy rubbed the line of his jaw. “I got this one off of eBay for about one thousand, used.”
I nearly choked. “One thousand dollars?”
“Yep. It was a pretty good deal, actually.”
“Sounds like the custom woodworking business is a pretty expensive hobby, Mr. Remington.”
“Yep.” He blew out a breath. “It’s a good thing it’s not a hobby for me. It’s my career.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I nodded a bit too vigorously to cover my guilt. There, I’d gone and stuck my foot in my mouth again, insulting him once more. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.
I must have looked as guilty as I felt because Jeremy laughed. “No apology necessary, Doc.”
Doc? I hadn’t decided if I liked that particular nickname coming from someone as hot as Jeremy, but I’d always appreciated a good nickname in general. Harrison and I had never seemed to come up with nicknames for each other. He called me Meg and I called him Harrison. Not exactly creative. We certainly couldn’t call each other Doc. That would be weird. But coming from Jeremy, the nickname held a certain charm.
“Okay, so I guess we should get started,” I said lamely, wanting to change the subject and begin before I obsessed about my new nickname all night like a crazy person.
“We’re acting, right?” Jeremy asked.
I nodded. “Memorizing a scene. Were you ever in speech class?” I pulled the two copies of P&P out of my bag.
“I was in Drama Club.” Jeremy cracked a smile.
“You were?” I frowned. I’d been in that Drama Club too.
“Yeah, you don’t remember?” He narrowed his eyes on me.
I rubbed my forehead as if that would make me recall more details. “I remember being in A Funny