the wall with the windows, where multiple individual pieces of the parquetry had rotted. She squatted beside it, prodding it with the hammer, clearly lamenting the sad state of the floor. “This breaks my heart. And I have no doubt there’ll be other areas as well, beneath all that.”
Bracing himself, Cole lowered slowly into a crouch, envying her ability to so easily squat. His thigh and hip complained a little, but the discomfort was bearable. Getting up would be a different story.
“Do you replace those pieces?”
“Yes. Benji—he’s the one and only local builder in Credence—is going to source what I need when I know how much is required. He’s also going to cut it all the right lengths for me. He’s been a godsend.”
Cole rubbed at a section of the parquetry with his index finger, hoping to remove some of the gritty black residue, with limited success. “Is that cedar?” He peered at the underlying colors. “And another wood? Maybe even a third?”
“Yes.” Her grin was huge now as she looked at him. There was both pleasure and surprise at his knowledge. “You know wood?”
He smiled. “I’m not just a pretty face.”
Her gaze raked over his face as if she was analyzing his claim. It lingered on his mouth, and hell if that wasn’t like a hot hand to his groin.
“It’s a mix of cedar, redwood, and bloodwood. Here—” She produced a piece of sandpaper from her back pocket.
A woman producing sandpaper from her pocket should not be hot.
She rubbed hard at a small area to free it of the gunk that Cole’s finger hadn’t managed to dislodge. Satisfied she’d done enough, she slid from a squat to kneel, closed her eyes, leaned over, and blew the dust away. Sitting back on her haunches, she caressed the bare wood with her fingers like it was satin.
“See?” She glanced at Cole. “Isn’t it beautiful? I can’t wait to get it all polished up and looking like new again.”
She was beautiful. It hadn’t really registered until now. His body had recognized her as an attractive female, but with fine wood dust speckling her cheeks like freckles and a satisfied glow warming her eyes, illuminating her from the inside out, she was transformed. It made him wonder if he could recreate that look in ways that did not involve the properties of wood.
Not that kind of wood, anyway.
“It’ll be magnificent,” he murmured, which scored him another bright-eyed smile before her gaze returned to the floor and his followed suit.
Cole touched the wood as she had done, noting the grain absently as he tried to make sense of what was happening. He couldn’t believe that, within the space of minutes, she’d gone from a cranky frown and raised hackles to soft and warm and glowing, smiling at the floor—clearly in her happy place. Ordinarily, this kind of volatility would be a giant red flag. Who had time for that? But this woman was fascinating.
Cole’s stomach chose that moment to let out a gigantic rumble. The kind of rumble they could probably hear back in Sydney. He slipped a hand over it as they both looked at the offending organ.
“Is that your stomach?”
“Yup.”
“I thought you went out to get a bite to eat.”
“I…got chatting instead.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “And forgot to eat?”
Cole was pretty sure she was using her mommy voice on him. She was certainly looking at him like he was that kid. The one who was easily distracted and forgot something as basic as his hunger. Or a full bladder. He had the feeling she was well practiced in that look.
“What can I say? Jet lag’s a bitch.”
She sighed. “There’s bread and sandwich fixings in the fridge. But don’t expect me to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Cole cut her off. “I am capable of making my own damn sandwich.”
He didn’t mean to sound irritable, but he was thoroughly sick of being babied. By nurses, by doctors, by physios. He had a bung leg, not bilateral hand amputations.
She shot him a look that plainly said, you’re the doofus who forgot to eat, before she rose to a standing position. “Well, anyway.” There was a stiffness to her tone as the warmth that had sprung between them evaporated. “I gotta get back to work.” Then she glanced at his cane and held out her hand to him, offering him assistance.
The mood took a further nosedive.
He didn’t need a hand like some invalid. Gritting his teeth, Cole ignored it, leaning heavily on his cane as he pushed