The Welcoming

she wasn’t one to refuse help when it was offered. Besides, he could probably do it faster, and he looked as though he could use the five dollars she would give him.
    “Thanks.” She handed him the jack, then dug a lemon drop out of her bag. The flat was bound to eat up the time she’d scheduled for lunch. “Did you just come in on the ferry?”
    “Yeah.” He didn’t care for small talk, but he used it, and her friendliness, as handily as he used the jack. “I’ve been doing some traveling. Thought I’d spend some time on Orcas, see if I can spot some whales.”
    “You’ve come to the right place. I saw a pod yesterday from my window.” She leaned against the van, enjoying the sunlight. As he worked, she watched his hands. Strong, competent, quick. She appreciated someone who could do a simple job well. “Are you on vacation?”
    “Just traveling. I pick up odd jobs here and there. Know anyone looking for help?”
    “Maybe.” Lips pursed, she studied him as he pulled off the flat. He straightened, keeping one hand on the tire. “What kind of work?”
    “This and that. Where’s the spare?”
    “Spare?” Looking into his eyes for more than ten seconds was like being hypnotized.
    “Tire.” The corner of his mouth quirked slightly in a reluctant smile. “You need one that isn’t flat.”
    “Right. The spare.” Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she went to get it. “It’s in the back.” She turned and bumped into him. “Sorry.”
    He put one hand on her arm to steady her. They stood for a moment in the sunlight, frowning at each other. “It’s all right. I’ll get it.”
    When he climbed into the van, Charity blew out a long, steadying breath. Her nerves were more ragged than she’d have believed possible. “Oh, watch out for the—” She grimaced as Roman sat back on his heels and peeled the remains of a cherry lollipop from his knee. Her laugh was spontaneous and as rich as her voice. “Sorry. A souvenir of Orcas Island from Jimmy ‘The Destroyer’ MacCarthy, a five-year-old delinquent.”
    “I’d rather have a T-shirt.”
    “Yes, well, who wouldn’t?” Charity took the sticky mess from him, wrapped it in a tattered tissue and dropped it into her bag. “We’re a family establishment,” she explained as he climbed out with the spare. “Mostly everyone enjoys having children around, but once in a while you get a pair like Jimmy and Judy, the twin ghouls from Walla Walla, and you think about turning the place into a service station. Do you like children?”
    He glanced up as he slipped the tire into place. “From a safe distance.”
    She laughed appreciatively at his answer. “Where are you from?”
    “St. Louis.” He could have chosen a dozen places. He couldn’t have said why he’d chosen to tell the truth. “But I don’t get back much.”
    “Family?”
    “No.”
    The way he said it made her stifle her innate curiosity. She wouldn’t invade anyone’s privacy any more than she would drop the lint-covered lollipop on the ground. “I was born right here on Orcas. Every year I tell myself I’m going to take six months and travel. Anywhere.” She shrugged as he tightened the last of the lug nuts. “I never seem to manage it. Anyway, it’s beautiful here. If you don’t have a deadline, you may find yourself staying longer than you planned.”
    “Maybe.” He stood up to replace the jack. “If I can find some work, and a place to stay.”
    Charity didn’t consider it an impulse. She had studied, measured and considered him for nearly fifteen minutes. Most job interviews took little more. He had a strong back and intelligent—if disconcerting—eyes, and if the state of his pack and his shoes was any indication he was down on his luck. As her name implied, she had been taught to offer people a helping hand. And if she could solve one of her more immediate and pressing problems at the same time . . .
    “You any good with your hands?” she asked him.
    He looked at her, unable to prevent his mind from taking a slight detour. “Yeah. Pretty good.”
    Her brow—and her blood pressure—rose a little when she saw his quick survey. “I mean with tools. Hammer, saw, screwdriver. Can you do any carpentry, household repairs?”
    “Sure.” It was going to be easy, almost too easy. He wondered why he felt the small, unaccustomed tug of guilt.
    “Like I said, my handyman won the lottery, a big one. He’s gone to Hawaii to study bikinis and eat poi.