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Before leaving, he threw her a wink and grinned. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Star let out a long sigh as he strode off, shaking her head. Of course, he wouldn’t give up that easily.
Determined to make this trip as fast as possible, she headed toward the paint section. She grabbed the varnish remover she needed, placed it in the cart, and then made her way to the new stain display.
The towering pyramid of stacked pink cans stretched at least twelve feet high, arranged so symmetrically it looked more like an art installation than a hardware display. She moved closer, scanning the names and colors on the labels.
She pushed her cart to the end of the aisle, making sure it was out of the way, and stepped forward to examine the cans. She would probably take three different stains and do some test runs on sample wood. Two of them were already high on her list, but the third—that one—was close to the color she suspected had been on the original floors.
Underneath the mahogany stain she’d been stripping away, she’d found a red-tinted clear shellac. In certain spots where the stripper had only partially removed the varnish, the stain underneath gleamed like a deep, aged whiskey, warm and rich. If she could replicate that? Oh, it would be stunning.
She moved to the far side of the display just as she overheard voices in the next aisle.
Two men stood talking near her cart. She peered around the edge of the display to ensure the cart wasn’t in their way. Satisfied she wasn’t blocking anything, she returned to the stains and easily grabbed two cans in the colors she wanted. But the third one—the one she needed—was way up at the top.
Of course, it was.
Carefully, she inched forward, assessing her options. The logical choice would’ve been to grab a store employee. But no. Logical choices weren’t part of her DNA, and Kyle would be only too glad to help. Yeah, no.
Instead, she placed one foot on a lower can for leverage, then stepped onto the next tier up. Then, the next tier. She could almost reach it.Almost. The colored stain she needed was right there. Just a few more inches. She stretched further.
The can under her foot tilted.
Her world tipped sideways.
Then, the entire twelve-foot tower of cans collapsed like a beautifully organized avalanche of disaster.
She hit the ground with a solid thud as the cans rained down around her, clanking, rolling, and ricocheting off each other like pinballs in a very bad, very unfortunate game.
Silence.
Then, slowly, the two men from the next aisle leaned into view, staring down at her as if she’d spontaneously spawned out of the floor like some sort of hardware store demon.
Star blinked up at them, dazed, paint cans scattered around her like fallen soldiers. “Uh …” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Did the cans hit you?”
One man shook his head. “Nope.”
The other frowned at her. “How long have you been there?”
Star pointed to the space she currently occupied, sprawled gracefully, as in not gracefully at all, in the middle of the mess. “Here?” She pointed to the place where she sat.
The first man nodded. “Yeah.”
She shrugged, adjusting her position slightly. Cans rolled as she bumped into them. “Maybe … five minutes? Maybe less?”
The second guy crossed his arms. “And what were you doing?”
She lifted her chin, brushing dust from her jeans. “Looking at stain colors.”
The men exchanged a glance, clearly deciding if that answer was sufficient.
Before either could say anything else, Kyle came barreling down the aisle.
“Oh my God! What happened?”
Star sighed. Again.
She rolled her shoulders and gave a helpless little shrug. “I don’t know. I was reaching for a can of stain and then … this.” She gestured around her at the carnage of cans.