Gemotions

The rhythmic thud of a hammer against wood was music to Amelia’s ears. It had only been a week since the new neighbors, the Millers, had moved in, and already their house was buzzing with activity. Amelia found herself inexplicably drawn to the sound. She'd developed a habit of “watering her plants” on the porch at precisely the same time each day, just to get a glimpse of the man with the chiseled jaw and the way his brow furrowed in concentration.

She swore her heart skipped a beat when he finally looked her way, a friendly smile gracing his lips. "Morning!" he called out, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" Amelia could barely manage a breath, let alone a response.

Her hands felt suddenly clumsy. She knocked over a terracotta pot, dirt spilling onto the porch. Mortified, she stammered apologies, her cheeks flaming. He chuckled, a sound like wind chimes, and offered to help. Suddenly, cleaning up dirt seemed like a delightful prospect.