Love or Money by Peter McAra Page B

forgotten his hostess. What should she do? For a second, she felt abandoned, a lonely alien in the midst of a happy team.
    â€˜Hi, Erin.’ She looked up. Hamish’s height all but blocked the light from the kitchen doorway. ‘Busy, are you?’
    â€˜Well, no. Lost, more like it. What am I supposed to do?’
    â€˜Like to come with me? Shoving a pile of dead branches around is a lot easier with two.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’d love to.’
    â€˜Great. Could you bring the wheelbarrow down?’ He pointed. ‘It’s in the woodshed.’ She detoured via the shed, found the barrow, and followed him down an overgrown path she’d never seen before. Soon she found the path blocked by a large fallen tree. She watched while he poured fuel into the chainsaw’s petrol tank, pulled on the starter rope, and steered the screaming chainsaw into the log lying in front of them. In a couple of minutes, he’d lopped off a bundle of branches. He stopped the motor. Erin silently thanked him. The noise was painful. He’d worn a safety helmet with earmuffs, but she hadn’t. She watched as he took off his helmet and stepped towards her.
    â€˜These branches. We need to untangle them a bit. Make things safer. I’ll lift.’ He grabbed a branch, straining to ease it out from the tangle of other branches. ‘If you can push sideways.’ He waved his arm to show her how. ‘Now — heave.’ She pushed as he lifted. The tangle of branches creaked, but stayed tied together.
    â€˜Nope. Can you come closer to me? Get better leverage.’ She moved her grip until she was literally rubbing shoulders with him. She caught the smell of petrol mixed with male sweat, felt the warmth of his body against hers. ‘Okay, once more with feeling,’ he grinned. ‘Now — heave.’ The branch slid out from the tangle. ‘Great! Now a couple more. Keep close to me.’ She found herself squatting between his arms as he reached down to get a grip on the next branch. ‘Now — heave.’ His arms closed round her and the branch moved. He looked down at her, smiled. Something inside her melted. She loved being close to this well-built, smiling man. Loved pushing alongside him as their bodies strained together, touching.
    â€˜This is working well,’ he smiled. ‘A couple more branches and the pile should be pretty manageable. Think you can stand here —’ he gestured to a space between his arms, ‘and shove the bottom log to the left while I lift the top one?’ Between his arms? She was going to stand there while he put his arms round her and heaved on a log. She grinned inwardly, knowing she’d love every sensation — sight, sounds, smells, touching — as he strained to lift the heavy log. She slid into the narrow space, felt the warmth of his arms round her again. With her head against his chest, she heard him grunt as he lifted. Then with a heave, she eased her branch aside so it was no longer pinned by the log he strained to hold high.
    â€˜Thanks,’ he said, lowering his log. His arms relaxed round her. He dropped the log and she stepped out from his embrace. ‘We’re a great team. You knew exactly when and where to shove.’ He straightened, retrieved the chainsaw. ‘Now I can get a bit of production going. Maybe you can toss the sawn bits into the barrow?’
    â€˜Sure. Junior woodcutter Spenser reporting for duty,’ she grinned. There was something easy, fun, about working up close and personal with the tall, broad-shouldered man who was master of his little world. He flicked the chainsaw into action and sawed away, branch by branch, until there was a small mountain of wood for her to collect.
    For the next hour she wheeled the loaded barrow back and forth to the woodshed while Hamish worked the saw. The pile in the shed grew. Though dollars to donuts she’d be