Page 42 of Raging Fires

“Stop calling him Toby,” she said, but her laughter spoiled the effect. Why did Jake have to make it so hard to not like him?

Jake was tearing open the carton and pulling out the pieces, including an instruction sheet, which he tossed on the ground. Kelli picked it up. “I take it you’re not going to follow the directions.”

“You know me; I’m winging it.” He turned his head to grin at her. “Unless, of course, someone wants to help…”

Kelli lifted an eyebrow. “I have work to do, you know.” Though, frankly, this sounded more fun than looking at spreadsheets.

“Come on, Kell… you know how much you like to tell me what to do.”

“Well, it is always enjoyable to watch you hammer your thumb or try to force a bolt into the wrong hole.” Kelli studied the instructions. “How are you able to fix the porch steps or lay Gran’s deck, but you won’t look at how to put something together?”

“That’s easy. I’ve watched people build stuff. I used to help Pops tinker around. But these?” He pointed a triangular piece of plastic at the sheet in Kelli’s hand. “They’re all piece A and bolt L and arrows pointing at little drawings that you can’t tell which side they’re talking about, and I just want to stick the screwdriver through my eye.”

“I kind of like figuring them out. They’re like a jigsaw puzzle.”

“Yeah, I hate those, too.” Jake laid out the pieces, studying them. “I think this is the little flap, and it goes...”

“Wait.” Kelli sat down beside him. “You have to start with the A pieces.”

“Of course I do.” He sighed. “Okay, rule lady, read me the instructions.”

“It looks like all you need is a screwdriver and one of those little metal things with a weird-shaped end.”

He turned and looked at her. “I love it when you get all technical on me. Are you talking about an Allen wrench?”

“Maybe?” She pointed to a picture on the sheet.

“Yeah, that’s an Allen L-wrench.”

“Looks more like a Z to me. There’s a tool box in the supply room. I’ll go get it.” She started to rise.

Jake motioned her back down and stood up himself. “Hey, I’m prepared. Stay here. I have a tool box in the car.”

He went back to the SUV and returned a few moments later with a plastic box, which he opened and laid down on the ground beside him.

“You have a battery-operated screwdriver set?” Kelli said. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“You are so weird.” He gave her a little smirk.

“Look who’s talking.” Kelli handed him the back and side of the doghouse.

“What do you mean? I’m not weird,” Jake responded as he placed them together.

“Umm. Who is it that eats pineapple on pizza?” Kelli handed him the long A bolts.

“Lots of people. Also, it’s good.”

“Pizza is Italian and pineapple is Hawaiian, and the two should never meet.”

“Yeah, well, who…” He pushed the button on the screwdriver, and nothing happened. “Damn it.” He pushed again. “Battery’s dead.”

“Looks like you’ll have to exert all that energy turning the screwdriver by hand,” Kelli commiserated, shaking her head.

“I think I can manage.”

Kelli watched the bunching of the muscles in his forearm as Jake twisted the screwdriver. In the Arizona sun, it didn’t take long for his skin to be misted with sweat. Her mouth went dry. Maybe watching Jake work wasn’t such a good idea. His dark brown hair had fallen over his forehead and was getting in his eyes. Annoyed, Jake pushed it back. He obviously hated it, but Kelli had always liked it a little long and getting caught in the thick lashes that surrounded his blue eyes.

Kelli cleared her throat and tore her gaze away. “I asked Gran about a vet today.”