Page 83 of First Bride to Fall
All the air left her lungs. “You want me to stay here andclean?” She breathed deeply and counted to ten. “While you go fishing?”
“Uh-huh,” he said, like that was the most natural thing in the world.
“But I have a hurt ankle.”
He frowned. “I know you do, which is why I brought the step stool in.”
She turned to stare at the step stool he’d carried indoors when she’d called him in for lunch. It was short, maybe a foot off the ground, and had a cushioned top. He’d dragged it from the storage closet. “Ah.” She tried to say something more, but she couldn’t. She was speechless.
“It’s very comfortable,” he said. “You can sit on that while you work on the bathroom.”
“What?”
He whispered, “It hasn’t been cleaned in months.”
Um. Yeah, she’d kind of noticed that but had been too polite to say anything.
“Same with these hardwood floors. They could use a good polishing.”
Okay, this had to be a joke. “You’re kidding, right?”
He scratched the back of his head. “Um. No.”
“But honey,” she said as sweetly as humanly possible, even though she gritted her teeth. “What about an equal division of labor? Thisisthe twenty-first century.”
“Exactly right.” He stood and took his plate to the kitchen sink, dumping it inside of it. “Which is why we’re dividing evenly.” He strolled over to the cleaning bucket and brought it back to her, setting it down at her feet. It had a toilet brush protruding out of it, and he grabbed its handle.
She watched him wide-eyed.
Nooo. He wouldn’t.
“I’m the hunter-gatherer guy. I catch the fish. I bring the groceries.” He handed her the toilet brush. “You keep the home fires burning.”
But oh yeah, he did.
Nell’s jaw dropped.
Hunter-gatherer guy. What did he expect from her? Maid service?
She tightly shut her eyes and tried not to scream. This was absurd. Even her dad was more fair-minded than this. He cooked and did the dishes. Laundry, too, lots of times.
Grant had to be pulling her leg.
But when she opened her eyes, he still stared at her, looking dead serious. He set his chin. “You have a problem with home fires?” He sounded legitimately perplexed.
Nell’s pulse pounded in her ears. “You. Want. Me. To. Burn down this cabin?”
“You’re so cute.” He chuckled and patted her cheek. “But no on burning down the cabin. Let’s, uh…not do that part. What I meant was—” His gaze darted to the woodstove. “Literally, keep the home fires burning. When the woodstove goes out, it’s a bear to get it going again, and it will get below freezing tonight.”
Nell tried to work her mouth, but no words came out. Finally, she managed. “Woodstove?”
He nodded and thumbed over his shoulder. “The woodpile’s out back, and there’s a log splitter there if you need it. But be careful and don’t overdo things.” He glanced at her ankle. “We want you to mend.”
“But, Grant. How can I—”
“You’re resourceful.” He bent forward and kissed her on her forehead. “That’s one of your gifts.”
…
