The Firefighter's Twins. Heidi McCahan

boots hit the ground, he grinned at her through the driver’s-side window.

      Her pulse kicked up a notch. Shay?

      The guys chatted back and forth while they hauled their tools and supplies toward her. She stared in disbelief.

      “Hey, Natalie,” Shay called out, pausing to anchor his tool belt around his waist. “How’s it going?”

      “I’m—you—why are y’all here?” Warmth flooded her cheeks as she struggled to form a coherent sentence.

      “Campbell rounded us up.” Trent angled his head toward Shay. “He said you needed a little help finishing this house.”

      “A little help?” She let out a wan laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

      Shay grabbed a large bottle of water from the truck’s cab. “We’re prepared to work hard. Why don’t you give us a quick rundown. What needs to be done first?”

      The guys—most of them familiar faces from around town—fanned out around her, waiting expectantly.

      “I—I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much to do. Finishing the plumbing and electrical work, hanging the drywall...”

      “I’m up for a challenge. How about y’all?” Trent shifted his toolbox to his other hand and motioned for the guys to follow him.

      They made their way up the driveway and onto the crude front steps, their work boots clunking against the plywood.

      Shay stepped away, but she reached out and touched his arm. “Wait.”

      His gaze traveled slowly from her fingers to her face. When their eyes met, something passed between them—an unmistakable spark that made her mouth dry and tangled her thoughts. Again.

      Shay raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

      She dropped her hand to her side before it lingered a second longer. “Thank you. Really. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      “What can I do to help you? Who’s watching your kids? I mean, I’m assuming you’re single and all. Otherwise...” She pressed her lips together, heat climbing up her neck. Just stop talking.

      His eyes gleamed, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you ask? Is there childcare included for frequent visitors to the pumpkin patch?”

      “Very funny. No, I’m not offering childcare.” She stopped short of mentioning that he probably wouldn’t trust her with his boys, given her limited experience with the toddler crowd.

      “The boys are napping. I took a walk on the wild side and hired a babysitter since my mom’s enjoying a day off.”

      “Good for you. I hear there are a few reliable ones around.”

      He checked his phone. “So far, so good. She hasn’t called me.”

      “They’re sleeping, right? How much trouble could they get into?”

      Shay chuckled. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

      “No.” She shook her head. “Can’t you tell?”

      He studied her, as though he was going to say more. Instead, he put his phone away and grabbed his water. “I better get to work.”

      “I didn’t bring any tools over, but if you have an extra hammer, I’d be glad to help out for a little bit.”

      His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

      She fisted her hands on her hips. “What? Girls aren’t allowed to use hammers?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “You didn’t have to. Your expression said it all.”

      “I’m pretty sure we can round up an extra hammer.”

      “Good. Tell the guys supper’s on me. I’ll run and grab something when y’all get hungry.”

      A wide smile stretched across his face, rocketing her heart rate into orbit. “Deal.”

      * * *

      Shay lingered in the driveway, feeling like a teenager with that stupid grin plastered across his face. He needed to get inside and get to work. The jolt of electricity that zinged from Natalie’s fingertips to his arm was hard to ignore. So was a pretty girl with the courage to grab a hammer and help build a house. Annoyed that he found the idea so appealing, his smile faded, and he reached for his tools.

      “Shay? Do you have a tape measure on you? I must’ve left mine at home.”

      Shay pivoted. Trent stood in the open doorway, one hand braced on the frame. His gaze flitted toward Natalie and then back to Shay. Curiosity flickered in his expression, and Shay willed him not to say a word. Nothing to see here.

      “Yep.” Shay unclipped his tape measure from his tool belt and met Trent at the top of the steps. “Where should I start?”

      “We’ve got to finish the subflooring first. Natalie, you’re going to have to get somebody else in here to handle the electrical stuff.”

      “Yeah, I know.” Gravel crunched under her feet as she strode up behind Shay. “Electricians who are available to wire a whole house are hard to come by around here. Is there something else I can help with?”

      Trent’s mouth twitched. “I don’t want to offend you, but we don’t expect you to move sheets of plywood by yourself.”

      Natalie laughed, brushing past him and into the house. “I’m not offended. I didn’t want to move plywood, anyway.”

      Shay stepped inside and studied the layout. The entry opened to a kitchen and breakfast nook on one side and a living area on the other. What would eventually be a hallway led to the bedrooms. Through the unfinished walls, he counted three more rooms, a bathroom and laundry area.

      “How would you feel about operating a glue gun?” Shay asked.

      Natalie faced him. “A glue gun? For what?”

      “If we glue the subflooring to the joists, it keeps the floors from squeaking.”

      Trent shot him a look. “You’ve obviously done this before.”

      He shrugged. “Maybe a few times.”

      “If you’re not careful, Natalie will appoint you project manager,” Trent said.

      “No kidding.” Natalie smiled up at Shay. “If you tell me you were an electrician in a former life, I might hug you.”

      Promise? Heat crept up his neck. An awkward pause ensued. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for hugging a glue gun instead.”

      Trent smothered a laugh with a cough and turned away.

      Natalie rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you clever. Show me this glue gun, and we’ll get started.”

      “Sweet. Let’s look back here.” He crossed to the hallway and stopped in the opening for the first bedroom. Sheets of plywood leaned against the far wall in a neat stack. A glue gun and several boxes of nails were balanced on top of an overturned bucket.

      Natalie came up behind him. “Did you find—”

      He held out a hand to keep her from coming any farther. “Watch your step. It looks like whoever started the installation stopped right about here.”

      The fragrance of her perfume—sweet and flowery—teased his senses as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a band she’d slid from her wrist. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go. She had the only exit blocked, and the exposed floor joists kept him from moving farther into the room. But he didn’t trust himself to stand there, feeling the sleeve of her plaid shirt brush against his arm, while he figured out how to play it cool