This is Me Trying (Evergreen Ridge)

Chapter 3

Riley

I take a deep breath before I knock on the door of my best friend’s place. I know it’s silly to feel this way; it’s just hanging out at Chloe’s house. I know that once we get the night started, I’m going to relax and have fun. It’s just these first few steps of human interaction that are always the hardest for me. I continue my breathing exercises as I smile at the dead plants on the front porch of her apartment. This girl loves plants, but she can’t keep them alive, even if a million dollars was on the line.

I shake out my sweaty palms and raise my fist to knock on the door again, but it flies open before I connect with it. Chloe stands there, fresh faced, not a hint of makeup, and still beautiful as ever. She has a hand on her hip that’s cocked to the side. She also has this knowing smirk on her face, but I have no idea what she knows, because there’s nothing I’m hiding, so I’m utterly confused.

“Uh, hey, Chlo. I made it,” I say with an awkward wave.

“Don’t you ‘hey, Chlo’ me. You have some explaining to do.”

“Huh?” I reply, wracking my brain for what she could possibly be talking about. My life has been exceptionally mundane these past few days since I have seen her last.

“Finn Hart ring a bell?”

Brows furrowed in concentration, I can’t for the life of me figure out what she could be referring to. Then my eyes widen in realization.

“The guy who sat down at my table at the Pore Over?”

There is a teasing light in her eyes. “Ding, ding, ding. That’s it all right. He has been in every day at the same time since your encounter. And he’s been asking about you.”

“What did you tell him?” I shriek.

She put her hands up like she’s playacting a scared, cornered animal. “Nothing. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything, but I sure did want to. Come on, Riley, when was the last time you went on a date? And he is so cute and nice, and is clearly super into you.”

“Then why don’t you go on a date with him if you think he’s so awesome?”

Her eyes dart down and to the left like they always do when she is uncomfortable.

“Because he’s clearly into you, or else he wouldn’t be coming in every day, hitting me up for information about you. That would be a lousy way to get into my pants—asking about my best friend every chance he got.”

She did have a point there, but all of this is a lot of information for the beginning of a chill girls’ night. I feel like I should be a bit creeped out by his persistence, when we had less than a five-minute interaction, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go on a date with him, though. I definitely don’t have room for that in my life right now, and if I’m honest with myself, I don’t know if I ever will.

The husband, the two kids, and the white picket fence do sound like a dream to me. However, it sounds like just that: a dream. Something that I can fantasize about, but can never actually have myself. Instead of excitement and anticipation at the thought, all it ever brings is a dull ache in my chest that I can’t get rid of. It’s easier to convince myself that I don’t want something than to try my damnedest and fail, and fail I would.

“Okay, okay, I hear you, but can we drop it, please? If he comes in again, give him the cold shoulder. Can we get this girls’ night show on the road? I was promised a good time if I left the comfort of my own home.”

I know there’s no way Chloe will give anyone the cold shoulder—she is far too nice for that—but a girl can dream. And I really want to be done with this conversation.

Her face softens. “Sure, Riles. Come on in and let’s make fun of the insufferable Mr. Collins.”

I’m thankful that Chloe can always tell when I’m at my limit, and she never pushes unless she’s sure that I really need it. She must sense that I’m not ready for this, and may never be. Although, I can’t help the thought that crosses my mind that I wish things were different. I wish I was different.

The next morning, I get up extra early to make myself my own coffee because I’m not going to chance running into Finn at the Pore Over. As I walk into the hardware store, cherry blossom leaves blow in behind me, and I make a mental note to sweep that up sooner rather than later so customers don’t track them all over the place. They sure are beautiful on the trees outside, but they make an absolute mess as they float down from their homes to make way for the green leaves of summer.

“Morning, Riley. Since when do you bring your own coffee? You know the Pore Over is two doors down and Chloe makes the best lattes around.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I mutter under my breath to Craig, who is my favorite employee. I, of course, will never tell him this, because it would go straight to his head, but as a seventy-year-old retiree, he’s never treated me differently because I’m a woman or because of my age.

As a twenty-seven-year-old female, managing the only home improvement store, Evergreen Hardware, in this town, I definitely have run into some hard-headed men who didn’t want to give me the time of day because I’m a woman. Often asking if I was sure about things, or outright asking if there was a man they could talk to. However, living in this small town, those encounters are becoming fewer and fewer, and I really only have to deal with that when I am dealing with a contractor from out of town.

I set my things down at my desk and complete my morning tasks of checking and responding to emails, making the schedule for the next couple of weeks, and putting in the supply order for the next couple of days. I remember I need to sweep the entryway, so I head out front. I know it’s technically part of his job description, but I always feel bad asking Craig to do it, and I truly don’t mind. It gives me time to clear my head and get a little exercise in. I have all the blossoms in a neat pile, ready to sweep into a dustpan, when the front door opens. A gust of wind blows through, and all the petals swirl and scatter across the entryway all over again. I let out a frustrated sigh, then freeze as I turn around and see who opened the door.

“Hey, Riley. I’m stalking you and figured out your name. Are you impressed?”

“What?” I squeak as a take in the man standing in front of me. All six-feet-two-inches of Finn Hart.

His eyes widen as he replies, “I meant because of our serial killer banter the other day, but I’m hearing now how that sounds, and yeah, not good.” He blows out a breath. “Sorry, let me start over. I got your name from the developer I’m working with on the new apartment building in town, and I need to place a supply order.”

Great. What are the freaking chances that this is my life? The very person I have been purposely trying to avoid just waltzes into my place of business. I could have gotten a chai latte this morning.

“Uh, yeah, that makes sense.” He follows me to my desk, and my heartbeat kicks up a notch as I hear the door shut behind me. “How can I help you?”

“Well, like I said, I’m working on the apartments that Mason Davies is developing. We’re just finishing up the tear down stage, so I need to put in an order for the building materials we’re going to need for these beginning stages.”

I pull up the order form and begin working away as he tells me all he is going to need. My eyes keep drifting to his strong, corded, muscled forearms and powerful hands. I internally chastise myself and try to focus on my work. There is something about the timbre in his voice that puts me at ease as I record the details he gives me. This is a wholly different experience than when he sat with me the other day. He doesn’t seem like he is trying to be charming. When someone, especially a man, is trying too hard, it immediately puts me on edge. I know it’s something that I need to work through from my past, because it doesn’t necessarily mean they are trying to be manipulative; that’s just what I’m used to. I know it’s not fair to put my own experiences onto other people. It’s just so hard not to when it’s all I’ve ever known.

I know that this is a big part of why I am so discouraged by the idea of falling in love and having a family, because I just don’t know what that looks like. I’ve never witnessed it. All I’ve witnessed is loss and pain and then fear and manipulation.

I can feel his eyes on me as I finish up the order. I can feel my skin tingle and the heat rising from my neck to the tips of my ears. I fight so hard not to look up at him, but I can’t help sneaking a peek. His eyes are glittering and he’s smirking at me. He can probably tell that I’m blushing from ear to ear and want to die inside. So I do what I do best and lash out.

“What are you looking at?” I bark.

He is full-on smiling now. “You, and I’m thinking about the fact that I definitely make you nervous. You don’t act like it, but I can tell, by the way you blush, that I do. You can act all you want like I annoy you, but your face says something entirely different.”

“How dare you come in here and talk to me like this. It’s completely inappropriate. We’re the only home improvement store in a fifty-mile radius. Are you sure you want to piss me off?”

“Maybe.” He smiles at me again.

“Trying to be charming is not going to get you anywhere now.”

“You said charming this time, not me, so my charm is at least slightly working.”

As infuriating as this man is, why do I find it a little bit fun to go back and forth with him? Of course, I would never tell him that, just like I would never tell Craig he’s my favorite, but it doesn’t mean that the idea doesn’t float into my mind. Maybe it’s because my grumpiness doesn’t seem to phase him. Most people avoid me because of my resting bitch face, and I don’t really blame them. I don’t always intend to look that way, I just have a hard time showing any kind of emotion. How can I possibly show the emotions I’m feeling when I’m not always sure what they are to begin with?

I let out a frustrated breath. “Look, I’m being serious. If you would like to work together, there are a few ground rules.”

His face grows serious, as if he remembers he is here on business, and he seems to switch back into professional Finn and not playboy Finn. At least, I assume he’s a playboy, by how charming he tries to be at every turn. It’s like he can’t help himself.

“Sure, sorry. I’ll keep it completely professional.”

Sure he will. Like I said, I don’t even think he can help it, or realize he’s doing it.

“Okay, thank you. Now, this first part of the order we can have ready in the next couple of days, and then you just need to let me know how frequently you want pickups to be after that.”

“Sure, thanks, Riley. I really do appreciate all your help. This is my first big job outside of Seattle, and it’s something I’m really looking forward to. Mason really has an awesome vision for these apartments, and for Evergreen Ridge as a whole, and I’m happy to be a part of it.”

“Great. Glad we’re on the same page. I’ll get in touch when the order arrives so we can arrange for pickup.”

The light in his eyes dims a bit, at what I can only guess is my shortness with him.

“Sounds great. See you around. Thanks again.”

“Bye, Finn.”

He turns to walk away and I once again catch myself looking at his toned butt in those tight jeans and work boots. It’s not fair that someone so irritating could look that good. Although, I do feel a little twinge in my chest that he seems to have given up and didn’t continue bantering with me. Is this how far I’ve fallen? That the fact that a man respected my boundaries bummed me out? What the heck is wrong with me?

I turn around to walk back to my office and stop short at the sight of Craig smirking at me.

“I saw that,” he says.

My cheeks flush again because I know he caught me staring at Finn’s butt.

“Saw what?” I ask, voice even.

“I saw the way he was looking at you when you weren’t paying attention.”

Oh, thank God he didn’t notice me checking him out.

Craig continues, “He was looking at you like you were going to be his next meal.”

I shove him playfully. “He did not. I made it very clear that this is strictly professional if he wanted to order his materials from us.”

“Well, his words may have agreed, but his eyes didn’t.”

“Bye, Craig. I’ll be in my office if you need me. If not, I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

“Sounds good, Riley. Oh, and I also saw you check out his backside,” he quips as he walks back to the register.

I walk back to my office and sit down to work with my cheeks aflame and a sense of embarrassment. Thankfully, I recover quickly, however, I can’t get anything done because my thoughts keep drifting back to my interaction with Finn. I put my foot down and told him it needs to be strictly professional, and he agreed to go along with that. So why do I feel like I’m losing out on something? There was a spark in my chest, wanting to turn into an ember, and now it’s doused with spring rain. I’m bummed at the loss of the back and forth with him, but I still feel a flutter in my chest at the words that Craig said. Maybe Finn was looking at me like he wanted me.

All of this back and forth is making me dizzy. I really need to get my head on straight because, from the looks of his initial order, he is going to be here for a while.