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Chapter One

Juno

When I walk into Green Valley Hardware, three hit me like a ton of bricks: the unmistakable scent of sawdust hanging in the air, a plethora of tools I have no idea how to use, and a giant, bearded man blocking the aisle I think I need to get into.

His massive frame spans the width of the entire aisle. With his flannel shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, it’s impossible to ignore his abnormally large forearms. This is not a man I want to try and squeeze by.

Squeeze up against? That’s another story.

As a home improvement newbie, I’m still not one hundred percent sure what I’m actually here for. What I do know is the hunky silver fox’s presence is doing little to quell my inexperienced anxiety in a hardware store.

I wipe the drool from my lip and shake off the realization that I haven’t had sex in over six months.

Funny how it hits you out of nowhere. On this beautiful Saturday morning, I expected confusion and overwhelm, not a sense of confusing and overwhelming lust. I haven’t even seen his face, but I’d let him have his way with me with the snap of his fingers.

Giggling at my own thoughts, I reroute, killing time by browsing the paint samples in the next aisle over.

I wish I could just slap a coat of paint on the walls and call it done.

The gorgeous log cabin is a wreck, but it’s right on the lake, and I’ve always dreamed of having coffee on a dock as dawn breaks over the water.

A dock that’s currently a death trap, but mine nonetheless.

My father tried to talk me out of buying the place. Saying I was biting off more than I could chew, but I love a challenge, and no one is going to tell me I can’t do something. Especially not my father.

Being officially out of my apartment and moved into my lakeside nightmare, I have to get the right hardware for a showerhead that streams instead of dribbles, or I’ll go insane. A wave of anxiety washes over me, thinking of all the work to be done. But I said I would do it, and dammit, I will.

Peering back into the aisle, I see the silver fox is gone.

I’m slightly disappointed but relieved to keep on-task so I can get home to a second cup of coffee before rolling my own sleeves up to get down and dirty.

Luckily, I know the exact showerhead I want.

With my type of anxiety, I pre-research everything: menus, routes, and even what showerhead I want to buy.

Jesus, the aisle shelves are tall, and the overwhelm is real. At first, I’m certain the internet lied to me and Green Valley Hardware does not carry my selected device, but after a few heart pumps and a deep breath, I see it…just out of my reach.

“Shit,” I mutter. Looking around, there’s not an employee in sight. “Doesn’t anyone work here?” I let out a sigh and stretch onto my tiptoes. My fingertips brush the edge of the plastic wrapping. I can high-five the damn thing, but I can’t get it to fall from its peg.

I’m about to lose it, go home, and take a sink bath for the next week, when I spy, at the end of the aisle, a ladder. Rejoice! Now, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to use it, but the old adage about asking forgiveness over permission doth apply.

I’m a secret agent, pulling the ladder from its resting place and lifting it over toward my precious shower head. Hehe, victory is mine…well, almost.

The ladder gently clangs against the metal shelving, and my heart skips a beat, ready to complete my first physical challenge of the day. With shaking hands, I step up the three rungs needed to reach my prize. I give it a tug, but the damn thing won’t unlatch from the hook.

“What the hell?” I mutter, pulling harder. What kind of karma am I carting around today? With a grunt, I give it a final tug and it budges free.

But I don’t realize I’m free-falling until I’ve almost hit the ground.

I brace for impact, praying I’ll still be able to walk after what I’m sure the town will call “the hardware store incident,” when a pair of strong hands press against my back, stopping me from my fall.

I’m nearly horizontal, one hand still clinging to the ladder at the same angle.

My heart races while my brain tries to make sense of what the hell just happened.

Before I can truly comprehend time, space, and my own mortality, the ladder rights itself, clanging once again against the metal shelving.

“You need help down?” A voice asks, a strong, soothing baritone. I must nod because those strong hands move to my waist, bracing me as I shakily step down. Once my sneakers hit the tile, embarrassment takes hold.

“Thanks,” I whisper, unable to catch my breath.

“Is that the one you want?” My senses returning, I face the man asking the question and am met with the iciest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. The hot, flannel-wearing silver fox who was once blocking the aisle, now saving my life, towers over me. He’s at least two heads taller than me.

“What?” All the moisture leaves my mouth. I cannot form a sentence. He points to the showerhead, and I suddenly remember what the hell I’m doing here. “This? Yes. I need a powerful stream.” I flinch at my own statement, but the hot daddy type just laughs. “Of water. A powerful stream of water.”

Now that I’ve seen his face, there’s something about his smile that seems so familiar. “Do I know you?”

He raises one eyebrow and moves closer to me. Flames ignite deep in my core. I want nothing more than for this man to throw me over his shoulder and screw me senseless—in the alley, in his truck, on the sidewalk in front of the café—any fucking where.

“You might not know me, but I know you.” His woodsy scent holds notes of lemongrass soap.“I’m Calder Holden.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor. This tall drink of silver-haired walking sex standing before me is none other than my father’s oldest former best friend and former jaded business partner.