Stacie giggled at the sight he made, and his grin widened. As he yanked the last nail from between his teeth and hammered it in place near the bottom, he growled at her.

"What's so funny? Did you expect a master carpenter or what?"

She hung her head, relishing the interior calm behind the plastic now that it was anchored
in place. It really wasn't that cold a night. She couldn't imagine what had made her shiver.

"Sorry, you just looked so, so-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he'd lain his hammer on the counter and pulled her,
soaking wet, into his arms.

She dropped the flashlight, caught off-guard as she fell against him. Pressed close, she
was conscious only of his scents, a man's sweat, with his piney aftershave, and the new wood he'd been handling. It was all one, creating a magnetic pull on her senses.

"But now that we're all tucked in here, how do we get out?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Does it matter?" he asked.

Above them the rain thundered on the roof, and against the sheet of plastic it pattered in a
relentless wash. His lips covered her mouth, and she tasted the rain, and his perspiration, and then his tongue, and the flinty hard fronts of his teeth. Water dripped from them everywhere. His hands on her face and neck were wet, hers on his hair beneath his poncho were wet. But they didn't stop kissing. She forgot about her urge to dry him clean. Forgot what she had been planning to say all the way home in the truck, if once he relented and agreed to grow his grapes without harmful chemicals. All she could think of was how he infuriated her.

How he entranced her.