smile as she pushed the toggle. “I heard the refrigerator come on. And the furnace.”
From where he’d stopped in the entryway, he watched her glance up at the still dark fixture above the long table.
“That light is off circuit right now,” he told her. “The only overhead light you have up here is in the kitchen. Besides the bathroom lights upstairs, you have one live outlet in each bedroom. All the appliances up here have power. So does the water heater in the basement, but the washer and dryer don’t.”
The minor inconveniences barely fazed her. “What was wrong with the generator?”
“The fuel line valve from the propane tank had been left in the off position. It could have been turned when the servicing company filled it, or by the inspector when he checked it out. Either way,” he said, conscious of her concentration, “it would be a good idea for you to check it the next time it’s filled. I’ll show you later how to thaw the valve in case it ever freezes in place again. Right now there are a few things I want to show you in the basement.”
“I wanna go to the basement,” Tyler announced.
Rory looked to where he had just jumped to his feet. “I thought you didn’t like the basement.”
With a small shrug, he walked up to Erik.
“It’s okay,” was all Tyler said, but it was infinitely more obvious than Erik’s faint smile that it was only okay because of the big guy.
With more immediate concerns to deal with, she knew she couldn’t afford to worry about that growing attachment now. His new hero had the vaguely impatient look of a man on a mission as he led them down the steep stairs and across the concrete floor.
Because Tyler wanted to see what he was talking about, he scooped him up, catching his small hand to keep him from touching anything, and proceeded to describe how the transfer of the power between the generator and the grid took place and how this system had a double-pole, double-throw transfer switch gear as a safety feature because it was the best way to prevent shock or electrocution.
Her son looked fascinated by what the big man holding him so easily was saying about currents, shutoffs and sensors. And while she grasped the basics of what she needed to know, much of the detail escaped her just then. She had no problem, however, recognizing when something could be dangerous. As the day wore on, she even found herself wondering if there was any double sort of safety feature a woman could use to protect herself from the effects of a man who had the disturbing ability to draw her to him even as he pushed her away.
“I just want to know how to use a regular saw. Okay? The one you used to trim the trunk on the Christmas tree would work fine.”
“It would work on the smaller branches,” Erik agreed, the icy breeze carrying away the fog of his breath, “but not for those you need to cut to get something this size moved. If you’re serious about this, a chain saw is faster and a lot less work.”
Concern clearly battled her determination.
“If I’m using that, I won’t be able to hear Tyler if he needs me. And I can’t have him right with me, because I don’t want him anywhere near that thing.”
“I’ll show you how to use the handsaw.” He didn’t hesitate to offer the assurance, aware himself of the child on the porch, breaking ice off the fir boughs she’d collected for a wreath. “But you should know how to use this, too. We’ll be where you can keep an eye on him.”
He watched Rory look from the wicked-looking chain saw blade to the long tangle of ice-coated limbs that had split away from the maple on the far side of the drive. A slash of exposed, raw wood on the heavy trunk mirrored the ragged tear on the thick branch where it had fallen from the tree’s side.
He’d already cut up the branch that had fallen atop it with the now-silent saw he’d borrowed from her neighbor. He’d heard the saw’s droning buzz when he’d come outside a couple of hours ago to fix Frosty and put a little physical distance between himself and his charge. Being near her in the confines of the house had left him too edgy, too restless. Outdoors, he at least had the buffer of space.
His glance slid from her burgundy fleece headband and jacket to the hem of her jeans. Since she’d kept herself occupied away from him for the better part of the morning, he suspected she’d been after a little distance, too.
Apparently having reassessed her options, and with her immediate concern addressed, she anchored the toe of her black boot in the loop of the saw’s handle. “So,” she gamely began, “I start it by putting my foot here?” she asked. “And pulling on this?”
Catching her arm as she reached for the starter pull, he turned her in the churned-up gravel to face him. “You start by putting on these.”
He tugged off his heavy leather gloves, then slipped the clear safety goggles Ed Shumway also loaned him from around his neck.
Teaching her how to use a saw hadn’t been on the agenda he’d outlined for himself that morning, but she’d wanted to know how to use one to clear the property after it thawed. Since he didn’t much care for the thought of her outside sawing and hauling limbs by herself, he’d already planned to have the mess cleared for her. This wasn’t the only storm she’d likely ever encounter, though. And he wouldn’t be around once she was on her financial feet. If she was going to be self-sufficient, it was his job to give her the tools she’d need to make that happen.
Reaching toward her, he looped the goggles’ wide elastic strap around the back of her head. Not giving her time to take off her gloves to adjust the bright orange band, he did it himself and settled the clear skilike goggles in place.
“Keep in mind that the barter system still works for a few things around here, too,” he informed her, tucking back a strand of the dark hair he’d dislodged from the fleece covering her ears. “Someone should be willing to take care of all these trees for you in exchange for a load or two they can sell or use for firewood.”
Far too conscious of the softness of her skin, the silk of her hair, he deliberately dropped his hand.
Pulling his gloves from where he’d tucked them under his arm, he jerked them back on and nodded to the saw. “Now you can start it.”
Rory braced herself. Not so much for what she was about to do, but because everything about this man had her feeling so off balance.
He’d given her his jacket a while ago. He stood there now in his heavy charcoal pullover and jeans, seeming totally unfazed by the cold and the almost familiar ease with which he’d touched her.
“Hold the blade straighter,” he called over the din of the idling motor. With his broad chest pressed to her back, he reached his arms around her, placed his gloved hands over hers and adjusted her angle.
“Ready?” he asked, his breath warm through the soft knit covering her ear.
Conscious of his body enclosing hers, she gave a tense little nod.
She wasn’t sure which disconcerted her more, the thirteen pounds of suddenly screaming machine, or the man surrounding her, making sure she didn’t hurt herself with it. With the blade engaged, metal teeth spinning, the chain bit ice. A quick spray of what looked
