Sigrid took the bucket from Faran's hands and passed it back to Olav, being careful not to make eye contact with the man. Faran was saying something about his mother and spinning that made Sigrid think of her own mother at home.
“As for not being a carpenter,” he added casually. “I’m sure I could teach you, if you wanted.”
Sigrid smiled warmly. “Maybe you could teach me for a bit. At least until I can find a job spinning or weaving. I’d like to help out.”
Faran turned and squinted into the smoke. “I’m sure they can use the extra hands.”
“I can do a bit of carpentry,” came Olav’s voice from behind her. “I’ll teach you as well.”
Sigrid turned to face him. “I thought you were just passing by.”
Olav grinned. “I am, but I’ll be around the inn for a while yet. Might as well make myself useful while Ragnar takes care of his business in town.”
Instinctively, Sigrid glanced toward the roof of the inn where Olav’s cousin still sat, dangling his feet and watching the flames engulf what remained of the stable. “Why isn’t he helping?” she asked.
“He did help. Now, I guess, he figures he’s done his bit. It’s about to burn out anyway.”
She turned and looked past Faran into the billowing smoke. It did look as though the fire had just about run its course. Even the pace of the bucket brigade had slowed. She could see a man, presumably the stable master, step forward into the smoking ruin. She didn’t think she would ever forget the expression on his soot-blackened face as he surveyed the wreckage. Self-consciously, she looked away. It felt wrong to intrude on his private grief.
Faran had apparently had the same thought and also turned away from the sad ruin of the stable. As his eyes lit on the face of Olav, though, she noticed a change come over his features. Faran’s previously carefree expression took on a narrow, almost hooded look. Clearly, he did not care much for the other man. Olav, on the other hand, paid the boy almost no mind at all. He caught Sigrid’s hand in his as she passed him the next bucket.
“Let me buy you dinner tonight,” Olav said quietly, his dark blue eyes sparkling mischievously. Unseen by anyone else, his fingers tickled her palm.
Shocked, Sigrid blushed furiously and withdrew her hand. “I-I have to go,” she stammered and quickly backed out of the bucket line. Casting one regretful look over her shoulder at Faran, she ran back to the place by the fence where she had left her belongings. Once she got there, she looked nervously in the direction of the bucket line, watching Olav’s rolling muscles as he handed bucket after bucket off to the slimmer, more wiry figure of Faran. As much as she hated to admit it, she found Olav intriguing. He was dreadfully cheeky, but he and his cousin were unlike anyone she had ever met before. Their worldliness with that touch of wildness fascinated her. She would just have to be careful of herself when she was around them. That was all.
If she wasn’t, she might find herself in a whole pile of trouble.
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