Gemotions

The fence was going up. Across the yard. It was a simple thing, really - cedar planks, sturdy posts, nothing special. But for Penelope, it was everything. She kept finding excuses to walk over to the window, even though she had a mountain of paperwork to get done.

She'd offered to help, of course, a little too eagerly, perhaps. She'd spent the entire afternoon picking up stray nails, her fingers brushing against the rough wood, imagining his hands. She was sweating and had sawdust in her hair but she didn’t care.

"You look beat," he said, handing her a bottle of water. Their fingers brushed. She almost dropped it. His gaze lingered on hers for a beat too long, and her cheeks flushed.