overalls, but in his usual faded jeans and an old navy-blue woollen sweater with the sleeves pushed back and a hole at one elbow—was working at a long wooden bench. He’d stopped hammering now and was planing timber, smoothing down the edges of a very large box-shaped object.
Intent on his task, Gray turned slightly and Holly saw the strength in his hands and forearms. She could even sense the movement of his shoulder muscles beneath the thick wool of his sweater.
She turned off her flashlight and put it in her coat pocket. Her palms were sweaty, so she jammed them in her pockets too. Then, feeling like an intruder, she took a deep breath and went three steps deeper into the shed.
She felt ridiculously nervous. Any minute now Gray would look up and she would have to explain why she was here.
She tried to remember the opening she’d rehearsed. Something about his tractor. But he wasn’t working on the tractor…
With her gaze firmly fixed on Gray, she took another step forward—and tripped on a metal pipe, sending it rolling and clattering across the concrete floor.
Gray’s head snapped up and his blue eyes widened with surprise. ‘Holly.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she cried, bending down to rub her smarting ankle.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
He came hurrying over to her, wiping his dusty hands on an old rag. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘The pipe’s probably worse off than I am. It’s okay. Really. Just a bump.’
‘I hope you don’t end up with a bruise.’ A beat later, he said, ‘What are you doing out here?’ His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. ‘Is something wrong? Is it Anna?’
‘No, no. Nothing wrong. A-Anna’s fine.’ Holly’s mouth was suddenly as dry as the sawdust on the floor. She tried to swallow, then remembered that she’d planned to smile to set the right mood. ‘There’s no problem, Gray. The children are sound asleep.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ With hands on his hips, he studied her, a puzzled gleam lurking in his bright blue eyes. ‘So, what brings you out here at this time of night? I thought you’d be curled up with your nose in a book.’
Yes…well…
Now that he was waiting for her answer, Holly felt more foolish than ever. Gray seemed totally relaxed and not at all put out by her sudden appearance, so how could she suggest there was a problem that needed sorting?
‘Have…have you finished the tractor?’ she asked.
‘The tractor?’
‘I…um…thought you were working on one.’
‘Oh, yes. You’ve blown my cover.’ Gray’s eyes twinkled, and then he turned to the bench where he’d been working. ‘I’ve been making something for Anna and Josh, actually. It’s almost done.’
‘Oh,’ she said in a very small voice.
‘Would you like to take a look? I still have to paint it.’
Without waiting for her answer, Gray went back to the bench and picked up the large boxlike frame he’d been working on. Not quite hiding his pride in his workmanship, he set it on the floor.
‘Oh,’ Holly said again when she saw it properly. ‘It’s…it’s a puppet theatre.’
He was grinning. ‘I made the stage high enough for Anna and Josh to stand behind.’
‘It’s perfect.’ Holly meant it. She was amazed and she felt so silly for thinking he’d been avoiding her. She wasn’t even on his radar.
‘They’ll love it,’ she said. ‘Wow. You’ve even made a pointy roof and a little wooden flag to go on top.’
‘And Janet’s making red velvet curtains.’
‘Fantastic!’
So Janet was in on this, too? Holly felt as if the rug had been pulled from beneath her. Here she’d been, all week, stewing about Gray’s sensitive reaction to their conversation, while he’d been busy creating a wonderful surprise for his children.
‘It’s a fabulous idea,’ she said, running her hand over the smooth silky wall of the stage and admiring the fine craftsmanship. ‘Did you say you’re going to paint this?’
‘I thought the kids would like something bright.’ He scratched at the side of his neck. ‘But don’t ask me about colour schemes. Apart from painting the roof red, I’m a bit stumped.’
‘You can’t just nip down to a hardware store, so I suppose it depends on what paint you already have.’
‘Practically every colour under the sun, actually.’ He went over to a cupboard against the wall and flipped it open to reveal several shelves lined with spray cans. ‘Last year there was a ringer working here who moonlighted as a rodeo clown and I helped him to make his props.’
Holly laughed. ‘So you have enough colours to make a rainbow.’
‘I guess I do.’
‘Rainbow walls would be fiddly, but they’d look fabulous.’
Gray considered this, a smile pulling at a corner of his mouth. ‘I’m no Vincent Van Gogh.’ He shot her an amused glance. ‘What about you? Are you handy with a spray can?’
Holly had wielded many a spray can while making children’s library displays, and she’d discovered a creative streak she hadn’t previously known she possessed. ‘We—I mean you—would need to work from the top down,’ she said. ‘And you’d have to use something like cardboard as a shield.’
‘You’d help me, wouldn’t you?’
She knew she shouldn’t feel so flattered. ‘I’d be prepared to give it a go.’
‘Terrific,’ he said, matching her enthusiasm.
And then, looking straight into her eyes, he smiled. Oh, man. His smile packed a wallop.
Not that she should be noticing.
It shouldn’t have been so much fun—working hard and staying up till nearly midnight to get the last rainbow stripe in place. Holly enjoyed every second of the project.
Early in the evening, while the undercoat was drying, Gray boiled a billy on a small gas ring and made tea. He had milk and sugar in a battered old cooler and even a packet of cookies.
They sat on rickety camping stools in the middle of the messy shed, drinking sweet hot tea from chipped enamel mugs and eating cookies.
‘Yum,’ Holly said as she helped herself to a second one.
‘Good to see a girl with an appetite.’ Gray took a second cookie as well. ‘Chelsea was always so careful about what she ate.’
‘All dancers seem to diet. They’re very strong-willed,’ she suggested.
‘Obsessed,’ Gray said tightly.
Holly now knew better than to pursue this sensitive topic. After all, she’d come here to hold out an olive branch.
Smiling, she said brightly, ‘So tell me, Gray, does your hat still fit?’
He looked at her with puzzled amusement. ‘Last time I tried it. Why?’
‘Janet and Ted have both been praising you to the skies this week and I thought you might have a swelled head.’
Looking down at the curls of shaved wood on the floor, he shrugged. ‘That pair are biased.’
‘Maybe, but they’re not easily hoodwinked. They told me you’re a brilliant cattleman, highly respected and looked up to by others in your industry. Ted said that when you took over the