Chapter 9 #2
“This is The Shop,” Wes says. Rather than head for the open doors, we head around the side of the building toward the white metal part.
“All that bark, extra sawdust, and leftover wood is turned into things that the people around Caddawalk can use and then brought down to be sold. They can get mulch, wood chips, particle boards, and pellets inside. We also sell typical construction-grade wood, hand-held tools, screws, nails and we rent out power tools.”
He unlocks the back door and we step inside.
The LED lights flicker on, sensing movement, and illuminate a plain white hallway.
I follow Wesley as he leads the way. The two of us don’t walk much further.
Wes opens a door to our left and we step into an office.
I look around, taking in the old computer, the large television screen mounted above it that displays several small squares of feed from what I assume is security cameras set up in the shop, and there’s a desk full of paperwork sprawled all over it.
There’s a folding table in the middle of the room with leftover, unused plastic silverware and a mini fridge shoved in the corner.
Wes walks to the desk and picks up a walkie-talkie. He lifts it to his lips and summons someone called Santi to the back. When he’s done, he puts the device down and turns to look back at me.
“For what it’s worth, if I was in your father’s shoes…” he starts, his voice thick with emotion. “It would give me peace of mind knowing my daughter was safe with someone I trusted, rather than out where the world could tear her apart.”
I tense, taken aback by the unsolicited advice. I’m also thrown by the sincerity and pain in Wes’s voice.
My lips press together as my heart shudders.
If Dad and Ledger really did come up with this plan to have me stay here, it’s because he wouldn’t want me hurt.
I know this. Still, the thought of losing my only family is beyond devastating.
I can’t let him face this threat alone. I don’t want him to die alone.
“Now, just a word of warning as I introduce you to the fourth member of our little family,” Wes says, pivoting the conversation easily.
I shake the thought of my father away to focus on here and now.
“Family?” I repeat the word carefully.
Wes hums once in confirmation. “I think of Rhett and Ledger as brothers to me, and I suspect they feel the same way. Santi is included in that mix, though… I suppose I see him as the exuberant younger brother of the mix. He’s a lot to handle, but if you tell him to back off, he will.”
The exasperation in his tone is undeniable, but I hear the amusement in it too.
“Does he live in the house?” I ask.
Wes shakes his head. “No, and quite frankly, I’m not sure why. He’s around all the time and has his own room to crash in when he does stay, which is pretty often. If he’s not in that room, he’s in Rhett’s room.”
In Rhett’s room? As in… Wes must see my unspoken question on my face because he winks.
“Neither Ledger nor I like to pry so I’m not exactly sure what that’s all about but don’t be surprised when you see Santi slip across the hall from time to time in the middle of the night.”
The door to the office flings open and bangs against the wall.
I turn to watch the newcomer stroll into the room.
The smile the guy wears turns into a full-blown grin the moment he spots me.
His white teeth are stark against his tawny skin and dark scruff on his face.
Dimples pop into existence and warmth gathers in those brown eyes as they lock onto my face.
Instantly, I feel some of my guard lower. There’s a sparkle in this guy's eyes that I like: a twinkle of mirth and mischief, promising a good time.
“It’s about damn time that I finally get to meet the new girl,” he says.
The way he moves reminds me of an overly excited puppy.
He’s cute with a boyish charm. That’s odd to say since he’s probably in his early thirties, so there’s nothing really ‘boyish’ about the man who comes to stand before me and offers me his hand.
Still, there’s something about him that has me instantly smiling back.
“I’m Santi,” he greets as I take the hand he offers. “The most charming, sexiest, and smartest of the crew.”
I giggle, and Wes lets out a long sigh.
“Santi is my biggest headache around here most days,” Wes complains, though I notice there’s no real annoyance behind his words.
“But he’s a hard worker so Ledger and I keep him around.
He’s in charge of managing The Shop. Santiago, meet Blair.
Blair, this is Santiago Navarro—otherwise known as Santi. ”
I smile. “Navarro? That’s a Spanish surname. ?Hablas espanol?”
Santi’s brows pop up in surprise and he immediately responds back in Spanish.
“I do, but it's been a while since I've conversed with anyone who could speak it fluently.
Not a lot of Spanish speakers in these parts.
I hope you're sticking around for a while, it'll be nice to be able to gossip in front of people for a change instead of behind their backs.”
My giggle is overpowered by Santi’s laughter as he flings an arm over my shoulders and shoots a smug look at Wes.
“Looks like I have a new friend,” Santi says, returning to English.
Wes’s pained expression is just as unserious as his complaint about Santi. “Great, now I’ll have you being a pain in the ass in two languages.”
“Damn right,” Santi confirms with a chipper smile. He lets his arm drop from my shoulders as his smile shifts to something more genuine. “Anyway, thanks for the tacos this morning. They were great. Now, what’s for dinner?”
“I was thinking about grilling,” Wes says, crossing his arms easily over his wide chest. “Care to run to the store and get me a few things?” He turns to me and explains, “The Shop closes earlier than the rest of the property, so if you have any errands to be run, Santi can do them for you while you hang out here.”
Santi can do them because I can’t leave Gnarly Pines. Right.
Sure, there’s a lot of space here, but ultimately, it feels like I’m being shoved into a prison cell; trapped and unable to leave. I try not to let that irk me. I understand staying put for a bit. But how long is a bit?
Santi shoots me a wink and slips into Spanish to say, “Or you can just come with me sometimes. It would be nice to have company.”
My frown is replaced with a smile. I like Santi. His energy is infectious.
“I’d like that,” I reply in Spanish. “Thank you.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” Wes warns with a scowl. “Don’t converse like I’m not here.”
Santi shrugs and gives him an innocent look. In English, he says, “Try and stop me, old man.”
I laugh, and in the back of my head I note it’s the first genuine laugh I’ve let out in a long time.
Maybe sticking around Gnarly Pines won’t be so bad after all.