Carolina Moon

bracelets.”
    She was out of breath, some stray wisps of hair had escaped her braid and were plastered to her face, but she had the huge and heavy box halfway up the porch steps. She straightened, tried not to pant. “What?”
    “You can’t be Wonder Woman without your magic bracelets. I’ll get this end.”
    “I don’t need any help.”
    “Stop being an ass, and get the door.”
    She stomped over, yanked the door open. “Are you always here?”
    He took off his sunglasses, tossed them aside. It was a habit that cost him a pair on the average of two a month. “You see that field over there? It’s mine. Now, move aside while I get this up there. What the hell kind of bed is this?”
    “Iron,” she said with some satisfaction, when she noted he had to put his back into it.
    “Figures. We need to angle it up through the door.”
    “I knew that.” She planted her feet, crouched, and took the weight of her end. There was a lot of muttering, a great deal of finessing, and a scraped knuckle on her end, but they got it through. She continued to walk backward, forced to trust him as he directed her right or left, until they muscled it into the bedroom.
    “Thank you.” Her arms felt like rubber. “I can manage from here.”
    “Got any tools?”
    “Of course I have tools.”
    “Good. Get them. It’ll save me from going for mine. Might as well set this up before we bring the rest in.”
    In one irritable gesture, she pushed her sweaty hair back. “I can do it.”
    “And you’re almost contrary enough for me to let you. I am trapped by my superior breeding.” He took her hand, examined the broken skin, and kissed it lightly before she could snatch it free. “You can put something on that while I do this.”
    She considered insulting him, ordering him out, even kicking him out, and decided every option was a waste of time. She got the tools.
    He admired the seriously efficient black toolbox. “Aren’t you just prepared for everything?”
    “You probably don’t know pliers from a wrench.”
    Obviously amused, he pulled out a pair of needle-nose pliers. “Scissors, right?”
    When the breath she huffed out ended on a laugh, he got to work on the heavy-duty staples plugged into the box. “Go put something on that knuckle.”
    “It’s all right.”
    He didn’t bother to look at her, or change the tone of his voice, but there was the light and tempered steel of command. “Put something on it. Then why don’t you go fix us something cold to drink?”
    “Look, Cade, I’m not the little woman.”
    He glanced up now, measured her with one cool look. “You’re little, and you’re a woman. And I’ve got the scissors.”
    “I don’t suppose my suggesting just where you might shove those pliers would wipe that smile off your face.”
    “I don’t suppose telling you you’re sexy when you’re frazzled would convince you to christen this bed with me once we set it up?”
    “Jesus” was all she said as she strode out of the room.
    She left him alone. She could hear the clatter, and the occasional oath, as she hauled in groceries, put them away, brewed tea. He had long hands, she mused. Elegant pianist’s fingers that contrasted with the hard, calloused palms. She was sure he knew how to plant and tend and harvest. He’d been raised to do so. But everyday chores? No, that was a different matter.
    Since she didn’t expect he’d put together a single bed frame in his own privileged life, she imagined she’d walk in on complete chaos. And she was determined to give him plenty of time to make a mess of things.
    She hooked up her new kitchen phone, put away her new dishcloths, and lazily sliced lemons for the tea. Satisfied he’d had enough time to mortify himself, she poured two glasses over ice and strolled into the bedroom with them.
    He was just turning the last bolt.
    Her eyes lit up, and the quick little sound she made was one of sheer, feminine delight. “Oh! It’s wonderful. It’s really wonderful. I knew it would be.” Without thinking, she shoved the glasses into his hands so she could run hers over the iron.
    His first reaction was amusement, then a cool satisfaction. Just as he started to sip the tea, she stepped into the center of the frame, and ran her fingertips up the iron rungs.
    And his reaction turned to sheer lust, so basic, so strong, he took one deliberate step in retreat. He could imagine, perfectly, wrapping her fingers around those posts, holding them there as he