Page 13

13

ZOEY

There’s no harm in using a man for his tool.

His electric jigsaw, that is.

Some pieces of furniture I’m refurbishing require more than a simple sand and stain. I need to make precise cuts, which means I need a jigsaw. Briefly, I considered buying one. But I already have one back in Denver, and I simply forgot to pack it.

Way too much of my truck space was allotted to crafting supplies.

Why did I think I needed a gallon of glitter?

To keep my wallet happy, I opt for borrowing from Warner.

And that’s the only reason I called Sawdust and Supplies, asking after him.

My visit to his place is definitely not inspired by the steamy sex scenes in the romance novel I checked out earlier this week.

Not at all.

A man by the name of Mason answered the phone when I called last evening. A minute later, he passed the receiver off to Warner, who immediately agreed to help me out.

I park in front of the hardware store. Turns out, Warner lives in the apartment above his family’s shop.

Small-town life. It’s kind of sweet.

Walking around to the side alley, I spot the door he told me to knock on.

Just as I’m raising my fist, a voice sounds from behind me. “Who are you?”

I turn, meeting the amber eyes of a beautiful young woman. She’s wearing torn jeans and a general air that asks, Why should I give a fuck about you? Her tangle of dark hair frames a pale face that could belong to a sixteen-year-old or just as easily a twenty-six-year-old.

“I’m Zoey Gunner.” I hold out my hand. “And you?”

The girl glances from my hand to my face and back to my hand before finally accepting it in a surprisingly firm grip. “Tanya.” Then, she steps in closer, her nostrils flaring slightly as her head cocks. “You’re not from around here.”

Not a question, but I answer anyway. “My grandmother was Minnie Gunner. I’m fixing up her cabin to sell.”

Tanya finally lets go of my hand, but continues to watch me with a certain amount of intensity. “No one was invited to your grandma’s funeral.”

“There wasn’t one.”

The woman was cremated, and Dad drove down to collect the ashes. I have zero knowledge of what my mom did with them.

“Did you want to be invited?” The little I know of my grandmother indicated she didn’t have many friends.

The girl shoves her hands in her pockets. “Nope. Didn’t know her. But the gossips could not get enough of being affronted about the lack of an invite.”

“Why? No one was invited. There wasn’t even something to be invited to.”

Tanya rolls her eyes and steps around me, reaching for the doorknob. “That’s just as bad. You denied them the chance to gossip about old lady Gunner. Plus, they’ve been dying for a peek at your mom after all these years. You here to see Warner?”

“Yes,” I murmur, following her up a set of stairs, my thoughts on her words.

Is my family really that interesting to these people?

I kinda thought my mom would’ve been forgotten after being gone for over three decades and my grandmother acting the hermit.

But maybe that just made the mystery grow.

I refocus on the young woman in front of me, finding my own curiosity piqued.

“Are you Warner’s girlfriend?”

“Are you kidding me?” She glares over her shoulder. “Gross! Give me a second while I locate the nearest bucket to puke in.”

“So, no?”

“Hell no. I’m his sister. His favorite sister.”

“You’re my only sister.” The man in question appears at the top of the steps, smiling down at us. “Which means you’re my least favorite too. Hi, Zoey.”

“Hi—”

Tanya juts her hip to the side, blocking me from view. “Yeah, well, I have three brothers to choose from, so you’d better be nicer to me, or you’ll make the bottom of my list.”

I continue up the stairs until I can see him over her shoulder.

Warner clutches his chest, as if wounded. “Words hurt, baby sis. Now, move your ass. You’re blocking Zoey.”

“You know what? Maybe I should be blocking Zoey. I think she might be my new best friend, which means I need to guard her from cruel men.”

My arm is snagged in an unforgivingly friendly embrace.

The exchange is fascinating. Like Tanya, I’m also the only girl in my family. I wonder if this is how dramatic I sound when bickering with my brothers.

I offer her a placating smile. “No guarding needed. I’m just here for his tool.”

The girl’s face goes slack, and then she mimes gagging. “TMI!”

“Power tool!” I hurry to clarify. Only, now, I’m thinking about his other tool. Wondering about the size of it. The feel of it. Imagining all the things I’d tell him to do with it …

“I don’t need to know what you call it!” Tanya covers her ears and sprints up the steps, leaving me with Warner, who seems to be strangling on suppressed laughter as his eyes glitter with amusement.

“Did I just scar your sister?”

The guy leans back against the wall, letting loud guffaws spill out. A reluctant grin plucks at my mouth as I finish climbing the steps.

Chuckles trailing off, Warner leads me through another door into an apartment that could be cozy if it had a little more personality. A coat rack holds both a leather vest and leather jacket with The Dark Moon Riders patch stitched on the back of both. The only wall decoration is a large, mounted TV. Two mismatched couches face the screen, and one holds a young man that looks strikingly similar to Tanya, who now leans on a kitchen island, eyes focused on her phone.

“This is my younger brother, Isaac.” Warner gestures to the guy, who nods silently before his eyes flick back to whatever game is playing on the TV.

“Nice to meet you both,” I announce.

Tanya waves a distracted hand at me.

“This way.” Warner gestures I should follow him into another room, where I find myself in a small workshop.

“Wow. Not the normal setup you’d expect in an apartment.” I run my fingers along the high top of his workbench and admire the wide array of tools hanging in organized patterns on the walls.

Warner shrugs. “Some people need an office. I wanted a workshop. Besides, it’s not like I have downstairs neighbors who’d be bothered by the sound of a power saw.”

“Do you make things?”

He nods. “Sometimes. More often, I’m repairing things. Broken chair leg here, cracked floorboard there.”

“That’s your job?”

His grin is rueful as he scratches the back of his neck. “Nah. I earn a paycheck at my uncle’s construction company. This is like a hobby. People bring me their small projects.”

“That’s sweet. Are you sure you’re part of a badass motorcycle gang?”

Warner seems more like the guy to help an old woman cross the street rather than roar down it on his insanely loud hog.

He grimaces. “It’s not that kind of gang. We’re not running drugs or anything.”

“So, everyone in town loves The Dark Moon Riders?” I ask, thinking back on Juliet’s words.

A few different emotions flick across his face until he pulls a casual give-nothing-away mask into place. “Feelings are mixed.”

I’m tempted to ask more, but I don’t want to keep Warner from what looks like a family gathering.

“Well, so far, I have nothing bad to say about you all. Especially since you’re helping me out with this jigsaw.”

That earns me a genuine smile, and he pulls open a metal cabinet drawer, only to come out holding the beautiful, versatile saw. The fact that it’s a lime-green color only delights me more.

“You’re a lifesaver. I owe you.”

“Really? What exactly do you owe me? What’s this saw worth to you?” Warner holds the tool just out of reach, tempting me to step closer to him.

This is flirting. I know it is. And I should run in the other direction. But I can’t help moving in closer.

“You’re doing me a favor, so I owe you a favor. What that entails is up to you.” I hold my hands out, and he relinquishes the saw. “But honestly, I think me holding this in your presence should be payment enough. What with women and power tools being the sexiest thing you can imagine.”

His eyes get darker while I taunt him with his previous claims.

“I—” he starts, but I don’t get to hear the end of his thought.

“We’re out of here,” Tanya yells.

Warner frowns and strides out of the room. I follow.

“What do you mean, we ?”

Tanya tucks her phone in her back pocket and tosses a jacket at the younger man. “Isaac and I are heading out.”

“Where are you taking him?” Warner glares. “We were going to watch football.”

“Too bad. Mom said she’d lend Isaac the car, and he promised to drive me to Cheyenne’s party.”

“Why would you promise that?” Warner faces his brother. “You hate parties.”

Isaac shrugs, but his sister answers for him.

“Because there’s a girl,” Tanya explains.

“A girl?”

“Shut up,” Isaac mutters.

“That’s right. Shut up and get your own twin.” Tanya reaches up to pat her older brother on the head before strolling out the door. “Nice to meet you, Zoey!” she calls once she’s out of sight.

“You too,” I call out, then turn to Isaac. “And you.”

The guy gives me a half smile and nod, then turns to Warner. “Sorry, but I did promise. Just forgot what night it was. Rain check?”

“Yeah, fine. Go keep her out of trouble.”

Without the two younger siblings, his apartment suddenly seems very quiet. I stand awkwardly, cradling the saw against my chest.

And for the first time, Warner’s smile appears forced.

“Well”—he clears his throat—“I guess you’ve got places to be.”

That’s it. No way can I leave this man to watch football alone, abandoned by his brother.

“Are the Broncos playing?”

Something sparks in his eyes.

“Yeah. Are you a fan?”

I shrug. “Hard to live in Denver and not be. But the cabin doesn’t have cable, so I can’t really keep up. Mind if I stay to watch?”

Warner’s mouth bobs open, and then he practically carries me to the couch, ushering with his long arms that I should take a seat.

“Do you want something to eat? I’ve got snacks.” He offers a bowl of pretzels.

After setting the saw down, I scoop up a handful.

“Do you want a beer?” He’s already in front of the fridge, as if I’ll leave if he doesn’t give me libations fast enough.

Alcohol is a special-occasion thing for me. It doesn’t always react well with my medication.

“Do you have soda or something?”

“Dr. Pepper okay?” Warner holds up one of the red cans, and I reach over the back of the couch to accept it.

“Look at you, Biker Boy. How’d you know that’s my favorite?”

Amber eyes flick between me and the can in his hand, and a satisfied smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he passes the drink over.

“Not sure, Mystery Woman. Maybe it’s fate.”

I snort, getting comfy on the surprisingly soft couch. “Soda is not fate.”

The refreshing crack and sigh of me popping open the can almost drown out his next words. At least, I tell myself it does because I’m not sure I want to acknowledge what I just heard.

Something that sounded an awful lot like, We might be .