Chapter 1 #2
“No.” Dar shakes her head, frowning. “The time difference has had us playing phone tag for the past couple of weeks. She’s excited to finish her program and get back home to start her shop.”
Picturing our curvy firecracker in a raspberry beret, holding a wheel of aged cheese in front of the Eiffel Tower, I smile. “She’s enjoying every minute of being in France, though. Our dairy girl has always been meant for more than a life working on the farm.”
Dar giggles. “Is that a nice way of calling our friend a cheese snob?”
“Yes. Yes, it was,” I admit. “Any news on how she plans to fund the shop at first?”
“No, she still refused to ask her father for money. When we both know he has it.” Dar scowls.
“He’s always discouraged her for wanting to do things her way.” I shake my head. “It’s ridiculous how the older generation is so caught up in the way things have always been done; they fear change.”
“I think he takes it personally. Like the life he provided wasn’t good enough.” Dar speaks thoughtfully. “And I think things are shifting here.”
“Are you defending him?” I peer at her from lowered eyelids.
“No. I’m giving you a different perspective.” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “I’ve butted heads with my parents over this very thing all my life.”
“Yes, but they listened—”
She holds up a finger. “Eventually.”
“How long—” Movement in the distance catches my eye. I trail off. Growling, I shift my weight behind the counter. Narrowing my gaze, I focus on the man who walked by slower than he needed to.
“What?” Dar glances over her shoulder.
“It’s the weirdo. I’ve seen the golden-haired tattooed man skulking around the shop all week. Don’t stare.”
He’s ventured in but purchased nothing or said more than a mumbled greeting.
With his sculpted jaw, piercing green eyes, and full lips, he’s stunning.
But his odd behavior and the fact that he’s a stranger in a town where I know everyone have my Spidey senses tingling.
So, what if he’s built like a brick house with a juicy rear and broad chest?
I use my peripheral vision to track him. “Do you know the guy, Dar?”
She turns back to me, brow wrinkled. “No. But I can’t say I’d mind getting an introduction.”
Stopping, he peers into the main window, scanning the place like a thief planning a heist.
“I’m done with this.” The last thread holding my cool in place snaps. I grab the keys from my pocket, palming the small cylinder attached to the key chain.
Dar trails right behind me as I stalk around the counter. “What are you going to do, Phil?”
Walking down the main aisle, I shove open the front door. He jerks back, startled. I step in front of him, and his eyes round comically.
“Why are you lurking around my shop?” I hold the pepper spray up, pointed toward him.
Raising his hands in the air, he takes a step back. “I’m not. I was just looking for Phil. But he’s never here.”
Him? I frown. “Well, you’ve found her.”
My hand relaxes, and I take my finger off the trigger. This isn’t the first time I’ve been mistaken for a guy. And I don’t want to shoot an innocent man.
He pales. “You’re the carpenter who does side gigs?”
I cock my hip. “You think a girl can’t build?”
“No. You can be a handyman. Handy… woman?” His forehead creases. “Person. Handy person?” His deep voice rises an octave. This reads as a genuine response.
He’s not a threat. The mechanism slides to the right on its own. What the hell? Liquid disperses, and time slows. Gasping, I watch, horrified, as the mystery man takes a powerful burst of toxins to the face. Crying out, he covers his eyes. His skin reddens and grows blotchy.
Panicking, I grab his wrists and yank them down. “Don’t rub your eyes; it’ll make it worse. God, I am so sorry.”
Shop owners and townspeople spill out of the doors of the shops. I wrap an arm around his thick bicep, herding him toward the people coming to assist. The sun seems to beam down on me, breaking through the clouds to highlight my shame. Wind ruffled my ponytails, doing nothing to cool me down.
“Jesus, Phil. You did a number on this guy,” a masculine voice shouts.
I’ve never been so grateful to hear that gravelly voice. Fletch. He is always prepared and will know exactly what to do. The Eagle Scout can put his knowledge to good use. He’s come down from the thrift shop he owns down the street.
“I brought water. But you need to flush your eyes.” Popping the cap on a large water bottle, the tall brunette with a neatly trimmed beard pours the liquid onto his face.
Fletch to the rescue. The water splashes onto the white t-shirt he wears under his dark blue flannel with pops of orange and white.
His brown eyes look concerned behind his thick black rimmed glasses.
The blond man’s white t-shirt goes translucent, showing off his firm chest. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the six-pack and intricate dragon tattoo on display.
Fletch huffs. “If you didn’t want to build Korren’s new displays, all you had to do was say no.” He places a hand on Koren’s shoulder.
“Wait.” I spin to face him. “You know this guy?”
“Yeah, he’s Ralph’s nephew. He’ll be taking over Reel Haven.”
Guilt spreads through me like wildfire. Heat floods my cheeks and the back of my neck. I misjudged this situation badly.
“Quick Draw McGraw, this isn’t the big bad city.
No one’s going to hurt you in Chance Falls.
” Colby appears beside me. I scowl at my best friend Brie’s younger brother.
He brushes his golden wheat-colored hair, streaked with red highlights, back from his square face.
Grinning widely, he shows off perfect pearly whites I want to knock out.
Towering over me, he’s all legs in a pair of dark denims and a worn olive green long-sleeved henley.
I shift from one foot to the other, unsure what to do next. “I did not touch the trigger. The sprayer malfunctioned.”
“Don’t be a turd, Colby.” Hand on her hip, Dar stares Colby down, coming to my rescue.
He grins at his long-time crush. “Anything for you, Dar.” He bows.
“I should go see how he’s doing, huh?” I glance from my shop toward Golden Grains, the place where they took him. People crowd the local bread shop, peering inside to get the scoop firsthand. Drama vultures.
Dar winces. “Maybe give him a little space?”
Groaning, I look up at the overcast sky, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me.
I won’t be able to rest until I make it up to this poor man.
Decency dictates that I grovel until he forgives me.
Brain spinning like a prize wheel, I think up ways I can do something nice.
Looks like he’s getting a free display. The news will be around town by noon, and everyone will have an opinion.
It’s going to be a public walk of shame until my penance has been served. God, I hate Tuesdays.