His shrug was too nonchalant for her liking. “I’ve been wanting to gift some of these pieces for years, but…”
“But?”
“I’m worried it would stop being a hobby. It would stop beingmine, if other people knew about it.” He avoided her gaze, swiping a finger along a dusty worktop surface, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it. More he wasn’t saying. His reasons were valid, but they sounded robotic, rehearsed. Like something he didn’t believe was true.
And if itwasn’ttrue, hiding all this would be such a shame. This furniture was extraordinary. He’d even collected patches of fabric, and some of them were laid out on the worktops, in the process of being sewn together to make seat cushions. A week ago, she wouldn’t have believed such heavy hands could handle a needle and thread, but she’d since learned that his deft fingers were capable ofanything.
And that wasn’t all. On the bench against the back wall was a host of smaller, delicate pieces. She edged closer, taking care not to disturb the treasures towering on either side of her. They looked like figurines—
She paused mid-bend, coming face to face with a dark-eyed fairy with platinum hair and a dress made of dried, layered autumn leaves.
She recognised this style.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Youmade those ornaments on the Fairy Trail!”
Fraser scuffed his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets as though trying to protect himself from something. Embarrassment?
She had never wanted to kiss him more than she did now. All that work, that beauty, kept anonymous because he’d just wanted to make people happy while keeping himself happy, too. Those calloused hands that had roamed every inch of her skin last night were capable of whittling wood into something else, something alive.
“Fraser…” She could see his heart all over this shed and it was beautiful. Gleaming. Gentle.
And he was showing it to her. How could she be the only one he’d allowed in here?
“Not even your sisters—?”
“No one,” he said. “They were only meant to be studies, so I could practise carving and painting. It’s silly, but I loved making them. One day, I left one on the trail. I thought people might like them. People like silly things sometimes.”
Harper shook her head. “They’re not silly. They’re brilliant.”
She held one to her chest, her breast swelling with a strange feeling of fullness.
He smiled wryly. “You can keep that one if you want. You inspired it.”
Curious, she peeked at the fairy again.
She saw it now. The dark eyes. The blonde hair. The round pink cheeks and faint smattering of freckles. She didn’t know what to say. She felt lightheaded, and wasn’t sure if it was the dust, the chemicals, or something she was afraid to name.
“I made something else for you, too.” He beckoned her across the shed, to the back left corner. She followed him, fairy still cradled in one hand, to a handsome pale pink desk with blue drawers and lilac shelves. She didn’t understand at first, not until she saw the wooden plaque stationed above the top shelf.Harper’s Writing Cornerwas painted on it in gold.
A writing desk.
She looked closer, and saw that he’d used the same gold tint to pattern the desktop with little suns.Sunshine. “Are you kidding?”
“I haven’t varnished it yet, and I didn’t know if you liked these colours or…”
“I mean, they are bisexual colours inpastel!” she gushed, running her trembling finger along the smooth surface.
He nodded. “I saw the flag on your phone case and figured….”
“I’m going to cry,” she admitted shakily. He’d noticed herphone case? She’d almost forgotten that she still used the one she’d bought from Manchester Pride last year.
And he’d noticed. He’d really noticed.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s that bad?”
“It’s thatgood! Nobody has ever done something this thoughtful for me before!”
He finally smiled, though it was lopsided with what she now recognised as self-doubt. She’d been so certain that they were polar opposites, from where they lived right down to their interests. But maybe they weren’t so different underneath.
