Page 5 of Coach (Shady Valley Henchmen #8)

“Go on. Snoop,” he invited.

I didn’t need a second invitation.

I flew at the storage chests, pulling open all the drawers to check out Coach’s collection. I was pleasantly surprised to find that he had both new, shiny gadgets, and a hefty supply of vintage tools with their worn paint and chips from decades’ worth of previous projects.

“Is that it?” I asked when I finally pulled myself away from the tools to admire the parrot play stand that had been so carefully carved that I couldn’t find any breaks in the wood, even though I knew they must have existed for the branches to spread out like they did.

“Did you carve these?” I asked, running my finger over one of the three wooden bowls with stainless steel inserts. They were shaped into fruit shapes: a pineapple, grapes, and a pear.

“I did.”

“Wow. That’s incredible. How did you learn?”

“Grew up poor. My family was always finding scrap wood and using it to make what we needed, so we didn’t have to buy anything.

Whenever I found scraps of the scraps, I took it and tried to make something out of it.

My grandfather could whittle pretty well.

He showed me to see things inside the wood, then taught me the patience to bring it out. ”

“That’s really neat. I don’t really have that inner vision. I’m big on idea boards online. Once I see it, I can make it. But I’m not the kind of person who can look at a room and just envision what I want without a reference.”

“Eh, you probably just doubt yourself too much. I bet if you let yourself, you could create something out of thin air.”

“You have more faith in me than I do.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? It comes out ugly? So what?”

“Oh, but that’s assuming I’m not a bit of a perfectionist.”

“You’ll get to perfect through the practice.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, thinking of the piles of faux stained glass supplies I had sitting around. I’d been waiting to find something online that I could print at the library and use as a grid. What would it hurt to just… give it a try without the reference?

“So what is this?” I asked, walking over to a big box Coach had been putting together.

“A nightstand. I have to make another too. Ran out of wood.”

“For yourself?”

“No. This is for Saint downstairs. He’s going to be joining the club. I have a feeling his little brother might be joining as well. So, I will need to add a desk or dresser to my list of projects.”

“That’s a really thoughtful gift. And, I mean, real wood.

Nothing is ever real wood these days. I’ve been in and out of all the nearby secondhand stores and garage sales trying to find a real wood dining table.

I have a very small dining room. I can maybe only do a two-seater.

Everything I’ve come across has been too big.

I’ve been eating on a TV dinner stand because I refuse to compromise. ”

Even if, logically, I knew it was crazy of me to be so specific.

At any point, with literally no warning, I might need to throw the essentials in the trunk, grab Trix, and run.

Leaving all these items I’d lovingly curated behind.

The more I worked to find something, the more I loved it because of that search, the harder it was going to be to leave it behind.

“You okay?” Coach asked.

I looked over, finding him watching me with his head tilted to the side. Like he could sense the negative thoughts. Hell, maybe he could. I’d always envied spiritual people. I never had a solid grasp on any set belief about the world.

“Yeah. Thanks for showing me all this.”

“If you ever need a tool, you know where to find them,” he said, waving toward all the storage chests.

“And if you ever need a good inspiration board, you know where to find me. So, how long have you been living here?”

“A few years.”

“Where do you work in town?”

“I work here.”

“Here?”

“At the club.”

“Oh. I thought this was more of a social thing. That seems really convenient. You work where you live and where you hang with friends. Or does it feel suffocating?”

“That’s where the yoga and meditation and even long walks come into play.”

“I know a thing or two about long walks,” I agreed as we made our way back to the elevator. “My dog. She insists on several really long walks a day. Even though she’s super furry and it’s so hot here.”

“What kind of dog is she?”

“She’s an Akita.”

“Purebred?”

“Yeah. I was shocked to find her in the shelter. She’s beautiful. Even if she’s a little… particular.”

“About men.”

“That. And her sleep schedule. And her food. I have to cook for her. She refuses to eat the same thing twice. And I give in because, well, who would want to eat the exact same thing every single day of their lives?”

“Cat demands a varied diet too.”

“Cat? Your cat’s name is Cat?”

“In everyone’s defense, no one seemed to know whose job it was to name the cat. And by the time someone pointed that out, everyone was already calling him Cat.”

“So is it just the cat and the chickens?”

“That live here full-time, yeah. Some club members have pets. A cat named Vernon. A couple of German shepherds. A little corgi. A Pekingese…”

“None are yours?”

“No.”

“Are you not a fan?”

“I figure I will get a dog when I have a place of my own.”

“Is that in your immediate plans?” He said they all move on when they get with someone. “Are you, you know, getting married or something?”

That was totally not my business.

“No, I’m not involved—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the lights blinked off and the elevator came to a sudden, jolting stop.