Steven looked up over the trees at a hot, burning sun in the summer sky. His forehead and bare chest were glistening with sweat, and he raised a dirty hand to wipe it away from his eyebrows. Two more hours, then he would rest. He went back to the task at hand, swinging his axe and letting it fall against the piece of wood, splitting it in half.
Steven Andrews had been working for the summer colony for five weeks. It was a good way of earning money this time of year, and to get a chance to live close to a lake. He and five other men spent their days building new cabins, fixing up the old bridge and the boats, and helping out with other tasks where needed. At the present he was chopping wood for the main cabin, where the summer guests would gather in the evenings. It was hard, sweaty work, but he liked it.
"That sure looks like a handful. Are you sure you don't need to take a break?" The light voice came from behind, and he turned around. Dinah, wife of the colony's owner, was walking down the slope from the main cabin with a tray of glasses, filled with juice and ice. She smiled at him.
"
That
looks like a handful," he said. "Better watch your step with that tray. Or why don't you just tell us to come get it from the kitchen?"
"I wouldn't let you boys walk all over my kitchen with your shoes, now would I? Here." She offered him a glass, and he took it. The rest were for the men painting a boat near the bridge, farther down the hill. He swept the glass greedily.
"Thank you. You're an angel, Dinah." He smiled at her. With her round, innocent face, sweet smile and curly brown hair she really did look like an angel. She was more than ten years younger than Henry Cray, her husband, and that made her the same age as Steven. He watched her as she walked away, taking in her hips swaying in tight jeans shorts, and her tanned legs moving gingerly down the beaten path in the grass.
He shook his head. It wasn't the first time he had been watching her; no man around these parts could help noticing how attractive she was. But she was a married woman, and that was that. And even if he thought she was smiling at him in an encouraging way sometimes he knew he simply had a lively imagination.
Two hours later it was time for dinner, and Steven went to wash up in the house he shared with the other workers. His friend Robert was already there, changing into fresher clothes, and they chatted all the way up to the Crays' house near the main cabin. They usually had dinner at a row of tables right outside the kitchen, tables that last year had been used outdoors at Henry's restaurant, before he bought the old colony and decided to fix it up. As the other men arrived Dinah brought them their dinner, and they gave her polite thanks, and not-so-polite looks when she walked back into the house.
"Now, that's something I would like to set my teeth in," Robert said with a low voice, looking at Dinah's behind as it disappeared into the kitchen. Steven laughed.
"Better keep your mind on the food instead," he replied, but privately he thought they all badly needed another trip to town, to hit the local bars. It was Thursday now; tomorrow they would go and have some fun. But at that moment Dinah peaked out through the door again, looking at him.
"Steven, would you mind helping me with the dishes later? The machine is broken."
"Umm . . . sure," Steven said, and she gave him one of her trademark smiles and went back inside. The jokes from the other guys were instant and friendly, and Steven jabbed back at them before digging into his dinner.
After he finished Steven went into the kitchen, where Dinah had her hands full baking a pie. "Reporting for duty!" he said.
"Great, thank you. You can stand over there," she replied, nodding in the direction of one of the two kitchen sinks. "I'll just finish this and then I'll come help you."
Steven set to work, and soon found himself standing alone in a kitchen with Henry's wife, while the other men left the tables one by one. For a while there was silence, as they were both working. Steven tried to come up with something to talk about, but failed. When Dinah had finished baking her pie she put it in the oven, set the timer, and then came over to him.
"Okay, now, I'll do the rest of it while you dry the plates," she said.
"No, that's all right, I can finish it." He was scrubbing a plate vigorously.
"Come on, move over." She reached for one of the glasses in the sink, but she was too quick and it slipped through her hands, hit the floor and broke in a thousand pieces.
"Oh, damn!" she cursed, bending down. She picked up one of the largest pieces, but moved too hastily again, giving herself a nasty cut. "Ouch! Darn!"
Steven bent down quickly, took her hand and held it over the sink. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yes." She pouted.
"You need to take it easy. Do I make you nervous?" he said, jokingly.
"Yes," she replied.
He was surprised. "I do?"
She paused. Then she said, in a lower voice: "Sometimes."
Steven had no idea how to reply to that. He got a towel and held it around her hand, pressing hard, and avoided looking into her eyes. Neither of them spoke.
"There. Feels better now?" he said finally.
