Christmas at Candlebark Farm by Michelle Douglas Page A

All the tension that had eased out of him from her simple exercise shot back now.
    He glanced down at the written quote. He didn’t know the builder responsible for this either. He shoved his chair back and shot to his feet. ‘C’mon.’
    She blinked. ‘C’mon, what?’
    â€˜We’re going to see an old friend of mine—I went to school with him—he’s a builder.’ John might despise Luke now, but he wouldn’t rip him off. Of that, Luke was certain. ‘And we’re going to drop by the agency and collect the key to your house.’
    She didn’t rise from her chair. She folded her arms andglared. ‘I’m more than capable of speaking to a builder and collecting the key to the house myself.’ Her glare lost its force. ‘I would appreciate the name of a builder you’d recommend, though.’
    For a moment he considered leaving her to it. This wasn’t his problem. No skin off his nose. He didn’t want to get involved. But her face that night at the bathroom door rose up in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the thought of what would have happened to Tammy if she’d had to face her pregnancy alone.
    He planted his feet. ‘It’ll be easier if I come along.’
    â€˜You have a farm to run.’
    â€˜It’ll survive without me for an afternoon.’
    â€˜No way! You told me you’re coming up to harvest.’
    He’d forgotten that darn independence of hers. He could add stubborn to the mix now too. He set his jaw. ‘Keira, you’re only here for what—five more days?’ Five days! He could count that off on the fingers of one hand. ‘Local knowledge is going to be necessary in this situation.’
    She bit her lip.
    He pressed his advantage. ‘And what if you start feeling queasy again?’
    She stood too, hands on hips. Her linen trousers were all creased and wrinkled from sitting, but she still looked fresh and cool. ‘If I’m to accept your help, and that help takes you away from the farm, then…then we need to come to some arrangement. Either I pay you for your time to act on my behalf—’
    â€˜No!’ He wasn’t taking her money. At least not for something like this. He wasn’t accepting anything more from her than her rent money.
    â€˜Or I pay you in kind.’
    He folded his arms. He could see she wouldn’t be easy to budge. ‘What did you have in mind?’
    She eyed him up and down. ‘It doesn’t look as if you’ve any kind of sports injuries I can work on.’
    The thought of her fingers moving over his flesh was far too tempting. And disturbing. ‘Nope.’ He said it quickly, before he could change his mind.
    â€˜Well…’ She glanced around. ‘From now until I leave I’ll cook dinner every night and do some light cleaning. I know it won’t make up for losing a whole afternoon’s work on the farm.’ She folded her arms too and lifted her chin. ‘But it’s something.’
    To come home every evening and find her in his kitchen, cooking their meals, for the next five nights… He swallowed. Could he deal with that? If he were ready for it, expecting it, then he wouldn’t lose it like he had last night, right?
    â€˜Well?’
    He hated cooking. He held out his hand. ‘Deal.’
    She placed hers in it, and sent him the kind of smile that could blindside a man if he wasn’t forewarned. Just as well he was forewarned.
    He scowled and let go of her hand. Her skin was warm and soft—and so fair!
    â€˜Do you have a hat?’ he barked at her. ‘You shouldn’t be walking around outside at this time of year without a hat.’
    She blinked. ‘I forgot to pack one. I’ll…um…get one next time I go shopping.’
    â€˜Good. Now, let’s make tracks.’
    He turned and strode out of the house, not checking to see if she followed. He