heart. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cuss at you, but I’ll die ten years sooner now.” She took a breath. “How long have you been standing there?”
He didn’t smile, but he wanted to. “Long enough.”
He knew Sela well enough to know she had to be blushing. “Sorry. I can’t sing at all.”
“You did okay.”
She cocked her head and looked at him hard. “You should’ve joined us. We can always use a baritone.”
“I don’t sing.”
“Come on . . .”
“No way in hell.”
She laughed at that and headed for her front porch. “Come on in. What can I do for you?”
She had no idea. Well, maybe she did. The attraction that was driving him nuts wasn’t one-sided, he knew it wasn’t. What it was, was more than he could handle.
He had no intention of sitting next to her again, of tempting himself with impossible ideas. So why was he here, unless he liked torturing himself?
Right. He actually had a reason. He swung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped the main compartment. “I had some extra solar lights, and I thought maybe you could use them.”
She turned to face him. “Extra?”
He’d noticed that she didn’t have any, and he did have more than enough, and damn it, she didn’t have to look at him that way. “If you don’t want them—”
“I didn’t say that!” she interrupted, and then she smiled and walked back toward him.
He placed his backpack on the ground and drew out not one but two powerful garden solar lights. He knew Sela well enough to know that if she had just one she’d give it to her aunt. This way they’d each have one. She pointed the beam of her flashlight down as he screwed the main unit into the stick. The lights would’ve been too long for his backpack if he hadn’t taken them apart. “Stick them into the ground in the morning, to collect sunlight, then bring them in at night.” He pointed out where the small on-off switch was located on the base.
She took the first one he handed her. It seemed they were both being extra cautious not to touch as the device changed hands. “This is fantastic,” she said. “Will it work on cloudy days?”
“Some, though it won’t be as bright. You should still get some use out of it.” He assembled the other light and placed it to the side, leaning it against the house.
“I’ll give one to Carol, if you don’t mind. These will really come in handy.”
He’d already assumed she’d do just that, and she did not disappoint.
There was a too-long moment of nervous silence, until the dog got involved. He danced at Sela’s feet. She smiled and set her solar light aside, leaned down to give the dog a good vigorous rub behind his ears while she called him a good boy.
Lucky mutt.
He wanted those hands on him. He could be a good boy, too. Mentally he snorted at the idea. More than wanting her to touch him, he wanted to put his hands on her. That was why he’d made this ridiculous trip, to offer her a couple of solar lights. Was he looking to impress her? To make himself useful? What a load of crock. His dick had pointed him in this direction, and he had followed.
“Dog,” he called gruffly, turning away and walking away from Sela. “Let’s go.”
“Uh, thank you,” she called in an uncertain and too-soft voice.
He muttered a gruff “Welcome,” as the pup pulled up beside him, but he didn’t look back.
The days slipped past and the reality of living without electricity became more routine. Sela no longer automatically flipped a light switch when she entered a room. October was always a dry month but there had been some rain, enough that she’d collected some water in her makeshift rain collectors and was able to skip a day or two of carrying buckets of water from the creek.
She loved the solar light Ben had given her, and Carol loved hers, too. Carol loved hers because it saved her precious candles, and that was a great benefit. For Sela, the simple gift was more personal, more . . . well, she didn’t know what it was.
Sela thought of Ben every night, when she brought the light in. Had that been his intention when he’d given it to her? Surviving was her focus all day long, but at night, when she switched on that light, her thoughts took another turn.