Chapter 4 - Craig #2
I sighed and picked up the bucket. Just because I didn’t find something didn’t mean he wouldn’t. I carried it out front, but didn’t spot Randy at the scrap bin.
I tipped the bucket into the bin, then strode back to the counter.
“You better?” Harrison asked.
I nodded, but my head swiveled as I looked for my omega.
“He’s browsing the burls,” Harrison said.
“Thanks.”
I started toward the warehouse part of the building—where the burls were kept—but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.
“Hold up,” Harrison said. “What happened?”
I turned and scratched the back of my head. “Honestly, I dunno.”
He frowned. “Look man, if you’re going to freak out every time some wood falls over…”
I shook my head and interrupted. “It wasn’t the wood…”
He sighed. “If it’s Randy, you should give up now.”
Something ached in my chest. “Is he mated?”
He shook his head. “No, but he’s a confirmed bachelor. I’ve seen other guys try to flirt, and he either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice. It’s even more awkward than outright rejection.”
I swallowed. “But, he’s… he’s single?”
Harrison sighed again. “Yes, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. And,” he paused, “don’t make me have to tell the boss you’re being creepy with customers.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He studied me for several seconds. “He’ll be browsing for a bit longer. Go get the shorts from the back. He hasn’t gone through the display up here yet. If you’re lucky, you might spot something he can use as a charcuterie board.”
“Thanks.”
“Just don’t expect it to get you anywhere.”
“Ok.”
He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but the door opened, and a petite woman walked in.
“Welcome,” Harrison chirped, putting on his customer service voice. “Can I help you find anything?”
I made my way back to the processing side of the mill, grabbed the flatbed card of shorts, and moved it to the front. I paid attention to the grain patterns of each piece as I put them on the racks, but, once again, nothing stood out.
Harrison was still helping the other customer when I finished, and I decided to take a chance. I wheeled the cart into the warehouse portion of the mill and spotted Randy holding a burl.
I swallowed, forced down my desire, and paused near him.
“I just added some new pieces to the scrap bin,” I started. “I didn’t see anything that caught my eye, but maybe I missed something.”
He looked up and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Need a hand looking at any of those?” I offered. “I know the wet burls can be heavy.”
He chuckled. “I’m used to it. Try holding one of these one-handed while tightening a chuck with the other. Or getting it between centers.”
“You turn them wet? I thought you told Oscar a piece had to dry.”
He chuckled. “Depends on the piece.” He nodded to the burl in his hands. “Something like this? I’d rough turn it now and core it into bowl blanks, then seal it so it can dry before the final turning. The piece he sold me last month isn’t ideal for that, though, so it’s sitting in my drying shed.”
“You rough turn and core all burls?”
He laughed. “No. Like I said, it depends on the piece. Some are good for that, others I seal and dry as-is, especially if I think they might work for something other than bowls.”
“Do you ever,” I paused, trying to make sure I framed my question properly. “Do you ever turn a piece wet and not seal it to turn again later?”
He hummed. “I’ve tried it, and it can make some stunning pieces, but it’s not my style. You can get nice warping if turned thin enough and with the right wood. However, it’s too easy to lose a piece because it cracks. I’d rather not gamble with my time and resources.”
“I think I get it.”
An awkward silence fell as I tried to come up with some excuse to keep talking to him.
“I'd better get this to the back,” I finally said, giving up and motioning to my cart. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
The cart wheels rattled with nothing to weigh them down; the sound echoed in the warehouse as I steered it back. Then—not wanting to push my luck—I headed back to the counter.
“You good if I go to lunch?” Harrison asked.
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
He gave me a single nod. “Yeah. It’s pretty calm right now. Randy will browse for a bit longer, and you can probably handle anybody else who comes in. Oscar can come down if you get busy.”
His mouth said one thing, but his eyes held a different message: he was giving me the excuse to be at the counter when Randy was ready to check out, but he was trusting me to not be a creep.
I nodded. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“See ya in an hour.”
He strode off, shaking his head.
I… felt thoroughly chastised. Harrison was several years younger than me, but had needed to intervene when I’d alpha’d out like a teenager.
And I knew better than to think he’d keep it to himself. Hell, if any of the other employees had come to the front while I was outside, they’d have smelled protective alpha.
I shook my head. I’d take the ribbing. I deserved it.
I rummaged underneath the counter in an attempt to keep myself busy so that I didn’t follow Randy around like a lost puppy.
A container of disinfecting wipes let me remove at least the top layer of mill dust from around the register, and I tossed several empty drink to-go cups as I knelt to work on the shelves.
The click of dog nails against the floor told me that Randy had come back in from the warehouse, and that they went over to the shorts.
“I’m behind the counter if you need me,” I called out from where I was still digging through the accumulation of years of stuff.
“Thanks,” came the reply.
Even his voice hit some instinct that insisted he was mine.
I moved a box of assorted tape measures and found a box of thermal receipt paper behind it. I moved that box and found a third box covered in dust.
I pulled the box forward, blew the dust from the top, and opened it.
“Do they even make printers that use this kind anymore?” I muttered as I pulled out a roll of duplicate paper that would have once gone through a dot matrix receipt printer.
I shook my head and set it aside before returning the thermal rolls and tape measures to their previous spots.
A disintegrating cardboard box labeled ‘lost-and-found’ seemed to be almost completely full of the cheap safety glasses that were available on any jobsite. Next to that was a box of new, cheap safety glasses—still in the plastic wrappers—for employees who needed them.
I chuckled at the irony, then put the new ones back while leaving the lost-and-found box on the floor to go through later.
A box of contractor pencils sat next to a recycled box that once held pencils, but now contained a stack of yellowing business cards from customers. Several cracked clipboards with old purchase orders and quotes were kept from falling over by an even older stack of phone books.
I shook my head as I reduced the pile to only the most recent books and set the clipboards aside to review with Harrison later.
A throat-clearing caught my attention. I stood to see Randy standing on the other side of the counter.
“Sorry about that,” I said, brushing my hands on my jeans to knock some of the sawdust off. “How can I help you?”
He chuckled and motioned to his flat cart. “Ready to check out.”
I nodded, grabbed a notepad, and prepared to round the counter and get the numbers from everything.
“Oh, no need,” he said before I could even take a step. “It’s ready for you.”
I peered over and eyeballed his purchase.
It was clear that he was used to the process.
The marked side of two burls were turned so that I could read the weights and wood-type codes without having to walk around and inspect them.
Same with the short cuts that he’d selected.
A bucket of scraps was nestled in the middle, full, but not overfilled like some tried.
It was efficient, but gave no reason for me to get closer to him.
I nodded and started putting numbers into the point-of-sale. A moment later, he swiped a credit card.
I looked around, wondering if there was a canister of dog treats, but didn’t see one.
I’ll have to ask Harrison later.
Luckily, if Russy was expecting a treat, he didn’t show it.
There were no other customers, so I rounded the counter. “Mind if I walk you out?”
“You sure?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “I don’t have much.”
I shrugged. “I can help you load, or at least bring back the cart.”
“If you want,” he replied.
It wasn’t an enthusiastic ‘yes,’ but it wasn’t a ‘no’ either. I’d take it if it meant even another minute or two near him.
I rounded the counter and settled my hands on the cart so that I could follow him out.
“Come on, Russy,” he said as the dog eyed me.
The dog turned and fell in beside him as he headed toward the door.
The cart bumped over the gravel, though it was much lighter than I was accustomed to.
His truck’s tailgate squeaked as it dropped down, then he reached in and snagged a bucket.
I’d barely stopped the cart when he grabbed the scrap bucket and tipped it into his own. He pushed it back into place and reached for one of the burls as I made my way around.
Making myself useful ended up being handing him the other burl and the stack of shorts. But it was something.
My omega is strong, some inner voice praised.
“See you next time,” I said, stepping back with the cart as he closed the squeaky tailgate.
He turned and nodded. “It was nice meeting you… Craig?”
Something fluttered in my middle. I nodded. “That’s right.”
He smiled. “See you next time.” Then he turned to his dog. “Come on, Russy.”
I steered the cart back to the building as he got into his truck, which took two tries before the starter caught. Then he pulled out of the lot.
The building felt empty as I walked back inside. The constant thrum of the mill equipment still filled the space, but there were no customers as I returned to my self-imposed task of cleaning out under the register.
I was attempting to chisel out what had to be decades of accumulated sawdust from a back corner when Harrison returned.
“Damn, man,” he chuckled. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Hmm?” I asked, somehow managing to not knock my head as I pulled back from under the counter.
He motioned to a garbage bin I’d dragged over to dump things into. “Cleaning under the register? Come on. Nobody cleans under there.”
“It needed cleaning,” I tried.
He snorted. “Ok, Romeo, whatever you say.”
I shook my head, gave up on the sawdust, and started putting things back.
“Damn, some of these phone books have been here since I was a kid,” Harrison laughed from where he peered into the garbage bin. “Maybe it’s a good thing you needed a distraction.”
“Fuck you, too,” I jabbed. Then I noticed how much space I’d made. “Hey…”
“Yeah?”
“Think the boss will mind if I bring in a container of dog treats?” I asked, remembering looking for one for Russy.
“It’s probably fine, as long as we can give them out to all dogs, not just Spud.”
“Ok.”
“You’re up for lunch,” he said. “Pick up the scraps on your way back.”
“Got it.”
I stood and made my way to the break room. I barely noticed the flavor of my lunch as I ate, my thoughts squarely on Randy.
When would I see him next? How could I flirt without being creepy and scaring him off?
The bucket of scraps was almost overflowing when I grabbed it from beside the saw. I carried it to the front and tipped it into the bin. I started to turn away when something caught my eye.
There, on top and fresh from the bucket I’d just emptied, was a small and stunning cut. Black spalting lines cut through a feathering grain pattern.
It was just the sort of piece my omega had asked for, and that I hadn’t been able to give him.
I picked up the piece and slid it into my pocket, then I returned the bucket to the back.
I rounded the front counter again and saw that Harrison had finished the job of cleaning. The crumbling lost-and-found box had been tossed in its entirety—a new box labeled and shoved into the space. His head was down as he studied the yellowed papers on the clipboards.
“Anything worth saving?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Doubt it. I’ll send the purchase orders up to be filed, but a lot of these are quotes that I think can be tossed… and probably could have been tossed years ago.”
He stood and smirked at me. “Maybe we should convince Randy to come in more often. This place will be spotless in no time.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s sweep and downstock before more customers come in.”
I helped him move boards from higher shelves to ones customers could easily access, then he took a customer while I used the wide contractor broom to remove the top layer of sawdust from the floor.
I returned to the counter once I put the broom away, and that was when the weight of the scrap in my pocket reminded me of its presence. I pulled it free and turned it end over end.
What would Randy make with it? It was too small to be a bowl. But he’d been hunting in the scraps for a reason.
The bell over the door jingled, and I looked up to see a man and his teenage son walking in.
I shoved the scrap piece of wood into the open area I’d made under the counter. Randy would be back, and hopefully he’d like it.
“Welcome,” I started as I approached my customers.