a knife?”
“I’m no baby,” Toby grumbled, his freckles turning as rosy as his cheeks.
Grant chuckled. “I promise not to give Toby anything he can’t handle. Jami, you can supervise. Okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her gut tightening in horror as Grant drew a sheathed hunting knife from the leather bag dangling from his belt loop. She felt her stomach lurch and bones chill as the tall, dangerous Texan slid a deadly curved blade out of that sheath to glint brightly in the sunshine.
“See the fallen log by the big flat boulder, Toby?” Grant asked, waving his empty hand toward the edge of the woods. “If your mom sits on the boulder, we can share the log.”
Clutching the piece of wood as if it were a bridal bouquet, Toby trotted over to the log with her in his wake. How she wished she’d never agreed to this boat-making project. Just the sight of that knife made her feel ill.
“Are you all right?” Grant asked, as usual too-tuned into her emotional state. “You’re pale.”
She halted, glaring up at Grant as Toby scaled the log. “A child shouldn’t be anywhere near a knife like yours, let alone try to use it.”
Grant’s face turned to stone. “I learned to whittle and carve at a younger age than your son is now. I know how to show Toby how to use this safely and allow him just enough to do to feel like he helped, without endangering him.”
“But that knife looks so wicked and so sharp,” Jami persisted, not totally persuaded. She’d never had anyone to depend on to share parenting responsibilities, and it was difficult to accept Grant’s good intentions when it came to something she felt so unsure about. She knew she must let her little boy grow up, but this was pushing it.
“A clean, sharp knife is far safer than a dull, ragged blade. Trust me.”
“I don’t know...”
“Mom! Grant!” Toby hollered at them. “Hurry.”
Grant’s gaze pinned Jami. She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. Even in her distress, she was conscious of an unspoken trust between them. She knew Grant would protect her child, and the poor kid rarely enjoyed any male bonding. She must let Toby do this, but she would be right there, regardless.
Grant straddled the log, his lanky jean-clad legs stretched on either side as he faced Toby. He had gorgeous legs for a man, Jami remembered. She found herself staring at those same legs she had seen bare and glistening when all he’d worn was a towel slung low around his hips. She closed her eyes, visualizing in greater detail his hard muscular calves and thighs, even the fine golden hairs that lightly fuzzed his ankles, but gradually receded to a slight dusting from knees to his upper thighs. If a man could have beautiful legs, Grant certainly did. No pale, skinny sticks. Just sinuously masculine, bronzed, and sleek as a diver’s.
She opened her eyes as she heard Toby ask Grant if they could build a pirate ship. Grant’s deep chuckle rumbled through her veins as he answered, “This piece of wood isn’t big enough. How about settling for a tiny boat?”
Toby appeared disappointed, then grinned. “That’s okay. Mom says it’s smart to start little when you learn something. Right?” he asked, turning his huge brown eyes on his mother.
“Right,” Jami mumbled, recalling Grant’s hunting knife. Why couldn’t they begin with a teeny pocketknife?
Grant’s gaze met hers, as if he read her mind—and not about a knife. “Sometimes small is best—sometimes not.”
He began shearing and shaving the rough bark of the wood, its distinct pine scent drifting over to Jami as she took a seat on the flat-topped boulder a few feet away. Grant’s strong, sure hands skillfully wielded the blade, wood chips dropping away as the rough form of a boat took shape.
“That’s really cool,” Toby said in awe. “Better than a pirate ship.”
“Well, not too many pirates sailed mountain lakes here in the Rockies.” A curled wood chip flew out, just missing Toby’s chin. “Scoot back, partner. If I wound you, I have to contend with Captain Mom, and I hear she’s tough.”
“Mom’s a pussycat,” Toby assured Grant, obediently scooting backwards. “If pirates didn’t come here, I guess there’s not any sunken treasure in Frost Lake.”
“You never know where you’ll find a treasure, Toby. Pirates weren’t the only ones who hid their booty. So did gold miners, trappers, and probably a few fishermen.”
“Really?” Toby blinked up at Grant in excitement. Jami nearly groaned aloud