Page 7

7

ZOEY

“Hello!” I call out, bending at a strange angle to stick my head into the hardware shop while leaving the rest of my body outside.

“Hello?” A middle-aged white woman with thick, dark hair, pulled back from a beautifully angular face, steps out from behind the register, approaching me with a tilt to her brow.

The expression looks familiar, but I don’t remember ever meeting her before. She’s not one of the Sip ’N’ Stitch gals, but maybe she was in The Wild Rabbit last night.

“Hi there. I would love to come in your store and spend more money than I probably should, but I need to ask you a question.”

That smirking curve to her lips also tickles at my memory. “And what’s that?”

I shift to the side so she can see who’s lingering behind me. Bruce sits on the sidewalk, looking like the well-behaved mammoth he is. “Does your store allow dogs inside?”

The woman grins wide. “Seeing as how I’m the owner and I make all the rules, I say yes. We have dogs in here all the time. As long as he doesn’t chew on anything important, we’ll get along just fine.”

What a relief. Bruce does not do well with being left alone in the car. Alone in the house? Perfectly fine. Someone in the car with him? No problem. But the minute I shut the driver’s door and walk away, he sets to howling.

I’m not sure I’ve heard a more pathetic sound. Passersby always think he’s wounded or one step away from dying.

But no. He’s just dramatic.

“Thank you.” I smile at the woman as I open the door wider and pull my overgrown puppy in after me.

He trundles into the store, sniffing the tiles with mild curiosity.

If I had planned on visiting the hardware store today, I would’ve left Bruce at home. This was just supposed to be a get-out-of-the-house outing, where we could wander around the town and see what there was to see. Map out places where I could utilize Wi-Fi and get back to work for my website design clients.

But then I saw the sign for Sawdust and Supplies, and I couldn’t resist its siren call.

“That’s a big boy you have there.” The store owner hooks her thumbs in her pockets, grinning at the two of us. “I’m sure I would’ve remembered seeing him around town. You two new?”

I nod. “We’ve been here just over a week.” I pat Bruce’s head, which is conveniently as high as my waist.

Then, I rummage in my bag for the list of supplies I wrote up a couple of days ago. I’m not done cleaning out all the odds and ends in the cabin, but I’ve already got ideas for refurbishing some of the furniture.

“I’m looking for a few things, if you wouldn’t mind helping me out?”

“Of course.” She accepts the list, her eyes scanning the items. “So, where are you all staying? Bought a place?”

“We’re in a cabin about twenty minutes north of town. Off Birch Road.”

“Birch Road? You mean the Gunner place?” Up until this moment, the woman’s questions all had a tone of mild curiosity, but these carry a sharp note of interest.

Is Grandma Minnie’s cabin really that fascinating?

“That’s the one.”

The woman’s golden gaze traces over me rather than my list. “You renting?”

“No. My family owns it. I’m Zoey Gunner. The woman who lived there was my grandmother.”

The shop owner’s eyes go wide, and I get the feeling I’m missing something.

“Selena’s your mother?”

Ah, sometimes, I forget that despite never visiting Pine Falls before, these people still have a shared history with my family.

“She is. Do you know her?”

“Knew her.” The woman’s mouth goes tight at the corners. “Lost touch after she left.”

Well, isn’t that great? Apparently, Mom left some people behind when she moved to Denver and never looked back.

My mother is a vibrant personality. She can make someone fall in love with her in a minute. Losing that love probably doesn’t feel too good.

“I’d be happy to tell her I ran into you the next time I get her on the phone. Just … I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

She gives me a small smile as the tension in her body fades away. “I’m Rebecca Jameson. But don’t worry about it. We weren’t that close. Let’s go find you these bits.” She turns and heads down the nearest aisle.

I try not to look surprised at the discovery of her last name. Jameson . No doubt related to Warner Jameson. Maybe his mother. Or aunt. Or older sister.

And not completely out of the realm of possibility: his wife. I gauged Warner at late twenties, but it wouldn’t be the first time an older woman and younger man got together.

My bet would still be on blood relation, but because I have no idea, I decide to keep my mouth shut. Sawdust and Supplies is the only hardware store in Pine Falls, and I do not want to piss off the owner by unknowingly revealing I rode on the back of her husband’s bike.

And also … just possibly … flirted with him.

Best to keep my mouth shut.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the register, racking up a hefty bill on my credit card.

But there were just so many lovely tools! I reach out a finger to stroke an electric dremel that I can’t wait to use on a certain rocking chair.

“Zoey?”

The familiar voice elicits goose bumps down the back of my neck.

Warner Jameson.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I’ve run into Warner here now that I know he’s somehow connected to the owner of the shop.

When I turn, he stands framed by the doorway, midday light making his edges glow.

“Hi, Warner.”

“You two know each other?” Rebecca’s eyes flick between us.

Please don’t be his wife. Please don’t be his wife.

“Hey, Mom.”

Oh, thank the universe.

“Yeah, we met at Sip ’N’ Sew.”

“Sip ’N’ Stitch ,” I correct.

“Of course. My bad.”

Warner saunters into the store, and I can’t help noticing the difference in his appearance. At the biker bar, he was in a black T-shirt, jeans, and his leathers. Today, he has on jeans again, but he’s paired them with a torn tank top that shows off his arms and a neon safety vest. The bright color should look garish, but it only helps to enhance the tan shade of his skin. His hair is slicked back from his face, sitting flat against his head in a funny way. My guess is, it’s the result of wearing a hard hat.

“Do you work on a construction crew?” I ask.

Warner grins down at his vest and ruffles a hand in his hair. “What gave me away?”

“Why were you at Sip ’N’ Stitch?” Rebecca is clearly still stuck on how her son met the new girl in town.

“For Zoey, of course.” He aims a charming grin at his mother, which she answers with a grimace.

“You’re sassing me.”

“Never,” he responds, still smiling before turning back to me. “What did you buy? Please tell me power tools. There is nothing sexier than a woman wielding power tools.”

He’s teasing me, a wicked glimmer in his eyes, and I get the urge to give it back to him.

“That’s good to know. I would hate to have spent so much money on props for my porno, only to find out power tools aren’t sexy.” I keep a straight face through the delivery.

Warner’s mouth drops open, then morphs into a delighted grin.

“You’re not helping. He’s already hell to deal with on a normal day,” Rebecca mutters as she sets my bags on the counter.

“Apologies.”

Damn, I was so focused on flirting with Warner that I forgot I was standing in front of his mother. Besides, I shouldn’t be flirting. He might think I’m interested in something more than friendship. Which I am definitely not .

“Ruining my fun, Mom,” Warner murmurs, still wearing a happy smile. “So, how does our small-town hardware store compare to the retail giants in Denver?”

“This place has everything I need—and more than I can afford.” I glance back at the aisles, trying to stifle my longing. “I might be back for that table saw after I sell a few organs.”

Rebecca smirks as she prints my receipt.

“The MacGyver? You can borrow mine.” Warner moves closer, his gaze tracing over me, leaving a disconcerting tingle in its wake. “I might have a few more tools you can use if you want.”

Was that supposed to have a double meaning?

Either way, now, my mind is focused on one particular tool Warner carries with him at all times. And all the ways I could use it.

“You trying to take my business from me?” Rebecca scowls at her son, but there’s a smile in her eyes.

“Of course not. Just being neighborly.” He walks around the counter to press a kiss to her cheek before hefting one of my bags off the counter. “I’m on my lunch break. Wanna grab a sandwich, Mystery Woman?” He circles back around to crouch down in front of Bruce, scratching behind his floppy ears. “Or should I ask your man for permission?”

I snort, loading my arms up with the rest of my new materials. “Bruce knows I’m done with domineering men. He’s happy to follow my lead as long as I’m handing out treats along the way.”

When I tilt under the weight of one of my bags, Warner stands and goes to grab it. I turn, holding the bag just out of his reach.

“How am I going to get strong enough to carry it if you take it from me?”

Warner pauses, staring down at me as if fascinated with what he sees. Then, his grin comes back, wide and welcoming and too handsome for any man. “You’re right. Sorry ’bout that.”

His reaction is as refreshing as my dad’s homemade lemonade. Nothing like what my brothers would’ve done.

Abram would have told me to stop being stupid and used his longer arms to reach around me and grab the bag.

Byron would have given me puppy-dog eyes and waxed on about how he just wanted to help me out, and how he never saw me anymore, and how he felt so useless sometimes, until I was guilted into giving up my burden.

Carver would have made a joke about my spaghetti arms, then tickled me until I physically couldn’t hold the bag anymore.

Donovan wouldn’t have said anything. He’s all about the sneak attack. The second I let my guard down, he’d have crept up behind me and snatched the bag from my hand.

But Warner doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he listens to me.

And for some reason, that seems dangerous. Mainly because I like it so much.