Chapter 18 Got Wood? #2
can have bad days from time to time. Even happy-go-lucky guys like Calder.
I resume our walk, appreciating the silence between us for a change until we reach our destination. It’s a small cedar-sided
outbuilding with a green metal roof and tiny little windows. And when Calder opens the double doors, it feels like an entry
into his mind.
It’s woodsy and messy and still strangely beautiful. It feels like the essence of him in a workshop form. Exposed bulbs hang
from the rafters with a small TV mounted to the wall. There’s a stack of notepads filled with sketches of designs for various
furniture pieces and power tools and hand tools and nails, and wood chunks scattered everywhere with a layer of sawdust clinging
to it all. He has a huge assortment of beautiful, completed pieces placed everywhere, even some stored up in the rafters.
“What did you make all these for?” I ask, walking over to check out what looks like the porch swing he sent me a photo of
the other day.
He slides his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know yet.”
“You just made them for fun?” I blink back my shock as I notice the intricate detailing along the arms.
“Yeah, I guess,” he replies, gripping the back of his neck. “I built this shop after my dad died. Woodworking was kind of our thing together, and I just sorta... never stopped making stuff. I watch game shows while I work, so the time flies out here. My dad loved game shows.”
My eyes soften at this unexpectedly sentimental side of Calder. To build an entire shed dedicated to a hobby he had with his
late father makes my heart squeeze in a way that it never has for him. I only met Steven a few times, but he left a mark.
If you looked at the Fletcher family as a whole, you would have thought they lived a charmed life. Two married parents with
four sons who all worked for their father’s construction business. Max eventually paved his own path, but the other three
stayed strong in the family business. And by all accounts, Wyatt, Calder, and Luke are the best of friends. Willingly working
and living next to each other every day.
The death of Steven a few years ago rattled them. I remember seeing Calder at the funeral. I was showing up to pay my respects
to Cozy and Max mostly, but it was Calder who drew my eye. He looked like a deer in the headlights. Like his entire world
had been rocked. The normally outgoing, outspoken, life of the party, nothing-gets-me-down giant mountain man was truly broken.
I’m guessing he built this shop to help himself grieve.
“What game shows do you usually watch?” I ask with a soft smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Me and Cozy used to watch Family Feud together all the time when we were kids. I was kind of obsessed.”
“That’s one of my favorites too,” Calder replies with a genuine smile. “But I like Wheel of Fortune too.”
“That’s so funny.” I blow some dust off the swing to feel the smooth wood beneath my hands. “I must have applied to be on
Family Feud like ten times but never got picked. You don’t see too many divorced families with just one kid getting selected for that
show.”
“Huh,” Calder frowns, fiddling with a tool he’d left out. “I guess I never noticed.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I always imagined what it would be like if my family got along like the ones you see on the show. Everyone works together and laughs and teases each other. It’s sweet. My family functions are like personality-disorder festivals. Your family would be a riot on that show.”
Calder chuckles as he props himself on a sawhorse in the middle of the space. “We could probably compete in a personality-disorder
festival too.”
“Nah, you guys are solid,” I hear the longing in my voice while I muse over the image of all of the Fletcher brothers standing
behind the table and answering those questions from Steve Harvey. They’d probably surprise me and be really good. I was always
terrible at that game. I don’t think quick enough on my feet. I need to ponder something for a bit before I can decide on
an answer. Impulsiveness isn’t really my style.
Except in Mexico, apparently.
I refocus on the furniture. “Do you think you’ll ever decide to sell these pieces?”
Calder grips the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable with my fondling of his work, which just makes me want to fondle
it more. “Yeah, for sure. I just haven’t got around to it yet.”
“Have you sold anything before?”
“Nah, I just give them away usually. Gave Trista a chair for their gender-reveal party thing last year. She has it outside
the barn and sits in it a lot. It’s nice giving them to people I get to see use them.”
He reminds me so much of Cozy. She loves making charcuterie boards, but it took a lot of convincing to get her to do them
for money. What is with these people having talents and not wanting to monetize off them? I understand some things are just
hobbies, but this level of talent goes well beyond that. Calder has to spend hours on these, pouring himself over them. They’d
sell for a hell of a lot more than one of my T-shirts, that’s for sure. And he just... gives them away?
He moves over to his workbench and picks up a notebook, wiping some dust off it before flipping it open to a page. “This is what I was thinking for your shelves.”
My boots scrape on wood shavings as I walk over and look at a drawing he’s done. I grab the notebook from his hands for a
closer look, my fingers stroking over his sketch, amazed that he drew this himself. I wouldn’t have pegged Calder as the artistic
type.
“It’s a rotating cube shelf with a space on the left to display your graphic shirt design and a shelf beside it to hold the
inventory. I want to do some rotary wheels at the base so people can spin it and see everything without having to walk around
it. We can do two to fill those spaces you have open right now. I’m thinking maple to match the floors in your shop.”
“You noticed the floors in my shop?” I look up at him and he frowns back at me.
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothing, I’m just... surprised.”
“I notice things.” His eyes tighten, and his nostrils flare with irritation. “And I know you want these to match everything
you have going on in there, so I kept the detailing simple.”
“But I like your detailing,” I argue, looking up at the pieces he has in the rafters. I could find a place for all of them
in my house.
“But it should match your vibe.”
“But I wouldn’t need to hire you to make this if I didn’t want your vibe. Otherwise, I could just buy something off Wayfair.”
“Wayfair?” he snaps, his severe eyes turning to slits. “No fucking way you want a mass-produced unit from a discount store
in your shop. It would look like shit.”
I jut my chin up at him in defiance. “I know it would, which is why I’m paying you to make something nice with your style
in it.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dakota. It’ll still be my style.” He steps closer to me, his arm brushing against mine as he points
back to his sketch. “See? These curved angles I drew here are kind of my thing. And that works well with the vintage aesthetic
in your store.”
He flips back a page, and my lips part when I see a sketch of my store.
It’s a rough drawing, but it’s undoubtedly my place.
He’s got my funky globe chandeliers and the curves of my stained-glass windows.
He even did a good illustration of my front counter with the vertical slat boards and rattan accents.
And he’s drawn his shelf idea into the space that I wanted it for. He’s put a lot of thought into this.
I smile and look up at him, disarming his sour disposition with my change in mood. “Our styles look good together.”
“That’s what I was fucking saying,” he grumbles under his breath, and my chest shakes with silent laughter.
It feels like old times. Like the house reno all over again, only this time... the arguing feels different. More stimulating.
Back then it was just exasperating. Maybe it was just sexual frustration we were dealing with all that time. Maybe that’s
what we’re still dealing with now.
“Have you ever had sex with anyone in here?” I blurt the question and stop myself from clapping my hand over my mouth like
a moron.
“Excuse me?” Calder’s expression is unreadable, and I hate it. God, what must he think of me asking such a stupid question
out of the blue like that? Especially when he told me he built this place after his dad died. I’m hopeless!
I shake my head and try to recover. “I was just wondering if you bring girls back here.”
“To my workshop or the mountain in general?” he asks, not avoiding my question, just requesting more clarity. His eyes dart
to my lips before moving back up to my eyes.
I chew my lip and shrug. “I’m curious about both, I guess.”
His eyes crinkle as he chuckles, and the sound ignites a fire in my loins.
“ Yes to women in my house, but not as many as you might think. I don’t like bringing them up here if I can help it.
But no to the workshop. This place is my escape, you know?
Where I get away from all the noise.” A pensive mood casts over him as he looks around at everything, but then he shoots me that playful smirk again.
“Plus, power tools and sex aren’t really a kink I need to explore. ”
“Probably wise,” I say under my breath, turning away to hide the blush I feel running up my neck. “I was just curious.”
I snap the notebook closed and march over to the furniture like I need to see it one more time to make my final decision.
“To get back to business, I think your design is perfect. I need two of them so just text me a quote for the price and estimated
turnaround time, and we should be all set.”
I clear my throat and push my hair out of my face before steeling myself to turn back around and face him. And when I do,
the butterflies in my stomach become a serious problem because he’s standing there, in his masculine workshop with his trim
beard and rumpled hair, looking so utterly mountain man perfect. It’s making me wish he didn’t have a rule about not sleeping
with women in here... because I would probably consider a repeat performance right now if he was interested.
He stares back at me with a look I can’t decipher, something totally different from the teasing, mocking one that I’ve grown
accustomed to. I want to say it’s like lust or hunger but doubt that’s true. He’s probably just itching to get me out of here
so he can get on with his plans for the night. I bet he has a girl he’s going to go see. Someone easy and uncomplicated who
he hasn’t had a one-night stand with before. Someone who’s not me.