She caught her breath as warmth invaded her face. She glanced around, trying to avoid his amused gaze. "It looks like you've been busy."
"You weren't here, so I started without you."
She breathed a little easier. At least he was considerate enough not to comment on her obvious interest in his physique.
"I had to take the car back to the rental company because it had hail damage. They gave me another one to use until my lease is up."
He looked perplexed. "Leased?"
"Sure. You didn't think I bought one to use for four weeks, did you?" Why was he looking at her like that? And then she knew. Of course. He probably thought she had unlimited funding. He swung the ax again.
"I had hail damage to my car as well."
"I'm sorry. At least yours is an old car. I saw some expensive new ones today that were all beat up. I'll bet someone was really paying out the bucks."
"Just an old car?" His tone was indignant. "Calling a '65 mustang just an old car is like saying L.A. is just another town. It would be less expensive to repair the new car. Everything on mine is original - including the paint job."
"Is it an antique?"
His lips twisted in a wry smile. "An old clock is an antique. A car is a classic."
She grinned. "I stand corrected." She stepped off the porch and glanced around. "Can I help?"
He mopped his forehead. "Why don't you fix us some iced tea?"
Why did men always give women the menial chores? "I can do physical labor, you know."
He shrugged and offered her the ax. "Fine. You chop the wood and I'll make us some iced tea."
She gripped the ax handle. "You think I can't do it, don't you?"
He grinned. "You never know until you try." He turned and strode to the house, entering without a backward glance.
She tugged at one of the chunks of wood until she had it sitting straight on the stump, as he had done. Taking a few steps back she gripped the ax half way down on the handle and slammed it down against the block of wood with a dull whack. The ax blade went about an inch into the wood. She pulled it loose and swung harder. This time the ax sank about four inches into the wood - in another spot. A small crack traveled about half way down the piece of wood. After a full minute of tugging and grunting she managed to dislodge the ax from the wood. How did he make it look so easy? She slid her hands further back on the handle, as she had seen him holding it. Again she swung the ax, and this time it went half way through the log. After a few more swings she finally had the wood in two pieces. She beamed up at Keaton as he approached with two glasses of iced tea. His eyes were twinkling, but he maintained a sober expression.