Turning back to her, I ask, "What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?"
She shrugs, one flip-flop precariously dangling from her foot. "Wiggled out from under it somehow.” Her eyes widen. “I haven’t even thanked you. You must think I am the rudest person ever.”
Holding up my hand in an attempt to stop her, I shake my head. “It’s fine really.”
She continues, “And now you’re putting together my table and I’m just sitting here.”
After leaning the table back up against the wall, I cross the small kitchen and stand in front of her, taking her wringing hands into mine. “Bethany, it’s no big deal. I’m happy to help. It’s what neighbors do.”
Her shoulders sag. “Not where I’m from.”
I tilt my head and smile. “Aren’t you glad you moved here then? So, where’re you from?”
Her eyes drop to our still joined hands, a blush racing over her pale cheeks. “Baltimore, Maryland.”
“A city girl. What brought you out here?”
“One day, it hit me that after my parents moved, I had nothing keeping me in Baltimore. I needed a change. I’m my own boss so I can work anywhere. I stumbled across this listing and could picture myself better here than where I was living. My parents think I’m crazy for moving out to what they would call the ‘middle of nowhere’, but I’m looking forward to unplugging. I wanted to live somewhere peaceful.”
I reach up to tuck a curl behind her ear. “Can’t argue wanting an uncomplicated life. I’ve had to do a little bit a traveling for the farm. I think I’m allergic to city life.”
She laughs, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she looks up at me, and it’s like someone knocked the wind out of me. Needing some distance, I release her hands and abruptly take a step back.
“I’ll just finish up,” I mumble, focusing on the table and not my new neighbor.
The slap of her flip-flops hitting the floor behind me has me turning to look back at her.
“Would you like a drink? I feel awful just sitting here watching you work.”
Can’t argue that logic. Not knowing what she has on hand since she just moved in, I ask for a glass of water.
When she hands me a bottle, I frown. “Tap water is fine for me.”
Her brows come together. “Is it safe to drink?”
“Course it is.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but reaches to take the bottle back from me. I’m almost done putting the final leg on when she brings me a mug of cold tap water.
I lift the mug, turning it to read it. “Smarty Pants?”
She blushes. “It was a gift. I haven’t unpacked all my other kitchen stuff yet and it was already out.”
“I like it.” I hold her eyes as I lift its rim to my lips.
What I don’t say is I like smart girls too, even the clumsy ones.
After draining the mug, I hand it back to her. Out of habit, and seeing how she was assembling it in the first place, I give the two legs she already attached a quick once over. With a couple of extra turns of the screwdriver, I am confident they aren’t going anywhere.
“Ready to flip her?” I ask.
“Um, sure.” She is still holding the mug, almost cradling it. She turns and sets it on the countertop, and then comes to stand opposite me. Mirroring my movements, we both bend, and then lift the table before setting it upright on its legs.
“Nice looking table,” I remark, rubbing my hand across the worn blonde wood.
“Thanks. I’ve had it forever. It was my first adult purchase.”
“No cigarettes or nudey magazines for you?” I tease.