Would he understand the significance of her choosing a deck glider? Certainly not some high-tech winged glider for the air, but a lazy ground flight of sorts.
"Ivy, hon, bring your sandpaper over here and feel the edges of this one I've already finished."
"Sure would stink to get splinters in my bum, wouldn't it?" Ivy skipped up beside her.
"Shelby, come help or it isn't a present from all of us."
"Sure." Shelby sat leaning against the house, headphones in place, music filtering free.
"In a minute, Mouse."
How could she hear with those things on? Of course if Zach had asked her to clean her room, Shelby would have been stone deaf to his request.
Shelby rocked to the beat, flipping pages in a magazine. So much for an attempt to draw both girls out with the joint project. At least Ivy appreciated the effort.
"Feel that?' Julia skimmed her hand over the two-inch wide board, her fingers naturally following the grain.
"Uh-huh. Okay, can I sand now? Please!"
Julia reassured herself that enthusiasm mattered more than perfection. "Go ahead."
Ivy scampered back to attack the wood with more frenzy than finesse, stirring a cloud of sawdust. A plane roared overhead in the ever-constant flow of air traffic that reminded Julia they lived within shouting distance of an active runway.
She flipped the strip and started the other side. For once the familiar textures and scents didn't bring the soothing effect she'd hoped for in suggesting this project to Ivy and Shelby.
Her eyes skittered to the backyard.
No doubt she could lay the blame for that disquiet solely on the broad shoulders of the man napping in the hammock. The Pawley's Island hammock had been first on her list of ideas for teaching him to relax, another languid ground flight.
And now she was wound tighter than the webbed weave of that roped sling strung between two trees, all because the simple sight stirred her hormones as well as her heart.
Eyes closed, Zach sprawled, too tall for the length. One leg bent at the knee. The other draped over the side, his booted foot resting on the ground and nudging the hammock into a gentle sway.
Another plane rumbled in the distance. His military radio perched on the ground beside Zach, crackling a steady drone. But she wouldn't think about that radio and the planes.
Not today when she desperately needed some peace.
His hand tapped a steady tattoo against Patrick's back as the baby snoozed away on Zach's chest. Tiny knees tucked up, her son rested securely against the broad chest.
Lucky kid.
If only it could be as simple as separate rooms. She'd forgotten the hundreds of other intimacies of sharing a home with a man, like sharing a bathroom, since Shelby and Ivy had commandeered the other one. Julia's hair mousse now rested beside his shaving gel, her lingerie slung over the shower curtain next to his towel.
Man, he looked great in a towel and nothing else. Just that morning she'd lounged in bed, sleep still lulling her, and watched through the part in the half-closed door while he shaved. Such a simple act and somehow intensely intimate.
His musky scent had clung to steam, permeating the air far beyond the bathroom walls, drifting into the bedroom until he invaded her senses without ever dropping his fine butt into her bed.
"Julia?"
"Yeah, hon?" Julia pitched aside the sandpaper and folded a new square for Ivy.
"I told my dance teacher how many tickets we'll need for the Christmas recital."
"Great. Have her let me know how much to make the check out for."
"The paper's inside with the prices." Ivy scrubbed an edge with exaggerated concentration. "Do the math for five tickets."
Five. Julia chose her words carefully. "And who are the extra two for?"