Page 30 of Show Me

I set a small container on the counter.

Her eyebrow arches upward. “What’s that?”

“Scraps. From lunch.”

Hooves tap across the wood floor before I see him. Squirt comes in from the other room like he heard his name in another dimension.

Ruby huffs a quiet laugh and opens the container. Apple cores. Carrot ends. The eyebrow goes higher, and the sudden urge to back of the room floods over me in a wave. This was a dumb idea. “You cut these small.”

“Choking hazard.” I shrug as heat seeps over me before I can tamp it down, so I clear my throat and focus on something else. “You’re tearing out your kitchen.”

“I’m improving it.”

I step closer, studying the wall we’d been working on. “You’re making progress.”

“That’s generous.”

I reach for the level leaning against the wall and check the sheetrock's placement. Not perfect but close to it. “It’s not falling yet.”

“High praise.”

The corner of my mouth twitches as I pick up the drill bit she left on the counter. “You’re using the wrong drill bit.”

“I am not.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Besides, I refuse to believe drill bits have sizes.”

“They do.”

“That sounds like propaganda to sell more products.”

“You’d think that.” I swap the bit with the correct one and hand the drill back to her. “Try now.”

She sets the screw and presses the trigger. The drill bites clean, the screw hitting snugly against the board.

She stares at it with suspicion. “Huh.”

“Magic.” The smirk is impossible to stifle this time.

Her eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t get cocky.”

Too late.

We fall into the rhythm, me bracing a board while she secures it, the sound of the drill cutting through the silence.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be at the Maple site. The concrete is more than cured. Instead, I’m here. The house creaks around us, old wood shifting under our feet.

“You didn’t have to stop.” She doesn’t look up as she continues to hold the drill against the next screw.

“I didn’t.”

“Then why did you?”

I adjust my grip on the board. “You’re in the middle of a rehab project.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s enough of one.”

She huffs a breath but doesn’t push.