Chapter 4 Zane
CHAPTER FOUR
Zane
The lock’s busted.
According to Arlo, the door at The Hollow’s never been right, always sticking when it shouldn’t, squeaking when you push it. But I’m going to make sure that isn’t an issue anymore, now that me, Finn, and Ryder own the place.
And I want to get it done before opening time.
The screwdriver in my hand’s got a little rust on it. The handle’s worn, the metal’s seen better days, but I’ve had it long enough to trust it. Long enough to know it works even when it looks all wrong.
I kneel down, twisting the screws back into place. There’s a certain rhythm to it. Tighten a little, step back, check for gaps, and then go in again.
Don’t force it. It’ll get there in the end, just a little at a time.
As I twist the screwdriver, I shift my weight back to check the alignment. That’s when I bump into something—no, someone.
I spin around to see a woman reeling, face flushed with surprise and embarrassment, arms windmilling.
“Whoa!” she yelps, grabbing for the door frame to steady herself, but instead knocking a jar of screws from the windowsill.
The screws scatter with a dramatic clatter, far louder than they have any right to be.
“Well, this is going well,” she mutters, still trying to hold onto the doorframe and some screws at the same time, trying to do some sort of contorted balancing act.
I can’t help but laugh under my breath, pushing myself upright and stepping forward to help her still herself.
“Easy there, cowgirl,” I say, chuckling, “It’s just a door, not a dance partner.”
She flashes me a grin, half-wincing as she finally gets her balance.
“I should’ve known better than to try and sneak past a door fixer in full action,” she says, brushing off her jeans. “Didn’t see the ‘danger zone’ sign on the door.”
I take a second to actually look at her.
I didn’t notice before, but she’s a lot smaller than me, about half my size, with a mane of messy hair that looks as if she tried to tame it but gave up halfway through.
I can tell right away she’s not the type to let herself get embarrassed, even though she clearly should be right now.
“No ‘danger zone’ signs. Just me, trying to make sure the damn thing stops falling apart every other day,” I say, nodding at the door.
She takes my hand, shaking it with a smile. “Aurora. Sorry about that. I’m kind of a disaster when it comes to walking in new places.”
I give her a quick once-over and can’t help but smile back. She’s got that kind of energy that makes me think she could trip over a sidewalk crack and still make it look part of her routine.
“Zane,” I say, keeping it simple, not offering much else.
“So, are you… fixing everything around here?” she asks, glancing at the tools and then back at me. “Or is this just a hobby?”
I shrug casually. “Guess you could say I’m a professional at making things work… when they want to.”
She laughs, the sound light and easy, as if she’s not about to freak out over the fact that she almost tripped into my arms. “I like a man who fixes things.”
“Well, if you ever need a broken lock fixed,” I say, “you know where to find me.”
She raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “What about broken people?”
I blink, a little taken aback by the shift in her tone, but I let it roll off me.
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “But I can definitely give you a drink if you need to fix the rest of your day. The bar isn’t open yet, so it’ll be a quiet one.”
She laughs, and it’s a lot easier to feel I’m not in way over my head now.
“Well, I was on the way to my cabin…” She glances towards where I assume she’s staying. “But I think a drink sounds good,” she says, stepping inside. “Just don’t fix me up with a drink that’ll break my will to leave this town, okay?”
I gesture for her to follow me toward the bar. “No promises.”
I grab the bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses. The sound of the liquid sloshing in the glass seems to fill the space between us, and I wonder how this is going to go, if she’ll just be another face passing through or if something here will stick.
Like I hope we do.
“You’re in town for long?” I ask casually, handing her a glass.
She takes it, clinking it against mine. “Just a few days. I’m here for some… personal stuff. I don’t really plan on staying too long. But I’ve got a feeling Coyote Glen might just have its claws in me already.”
“Claws?” I smirk. “That’s one way to put it. You’ll get used to it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
It catches me off guard a little. There’s something about her that makes me want to figure her out. It’s in the way she’s looking at me. Not just passing the time, but watching, waiting to see if this town can live up to its quiet charm, or if it’s all just surface level.
I’m intrigued. I have no idea why, but I want to know more. I want to know why she’s here and what’s got her so cautious. I can’t help it. The curiosity’s eating at me.
She takes another sip of her drink, still watching me over the edge of her glass, probably trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
I glance at her, leaning in just a little closer.
"So what kind of personal stuff brings you to a town like this?"
She lowers her glass and studies me, trying to decide whether or not to tell me. The silence stretches for just a beat, and I’m honestly okay with it. She’s not the type to spill everything, and that’s refreshing. A lot of people overshare, but she seems to be someone who holds her cards close.
“A bit of everything,” she says finally, letting out a soft breath. “I’ve been traveling. Trying to figure things out, you know?” She looks at me then, her eyes flickering with emotion almost too deep to name. “It’s complicated.”
I nod, understanding more than she knows. "Yeah, I get that."
The kind of complicated that gets tangled up in your head and makes you want to leave everything behind, but you end up dragging the mess with you anyway.
“So you’re just here for a little while?”
She laughs softly. “Yeah. Actually, I came here to scatter my grandmother’s ashes. She used to live here. It’s the place she loved.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I’m not good with these kinds of emotions, the ones that come up when people talk about grief. So I do what I do best: offer something that feels a little more grounded, a little less heavy.
“Well, if you need something else to take your mind off things, I’m sure we can find a way to keep you occupied.
” I raise my glass to her, the corner of my mouth twitching up into a grin.
“Coyote Glen’s got a way of pulling people in without them even realizing.
And it’s not always the scenery that does it. ”
She laughs, a little lighter this time, and I’m grateful for that. “I’m starting to believe you. There’s something kind of charming about this place. It feels alive. Even when it’s quiet.”
I smile at that. She's not wrong. Coyote Glen has a way of making you feel you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, even when you’re not sure where that is.
She takes another sip of her drink, and then she says something that catches me off guard.
“Do you ever get bored here? With everything always the same? I mean, small towns… familiarity is par for the course, right?”
I think about it, letting the question settle. It’s not exactly the kind of thing people ask in a small town.
“Bored? Not really. Things change in their own way around here,” I say, leaning on the bar slightly, considering the rhythm of life in Coyote Glen.
“But… it’s a small town. People get tired of the same things pretty quick.
We need something new, to shake things up a little.
That’s part of where we come in. Me and the new owners of The Hollow. ”
Her eyebrows arch, and I can tell she’s hooked, the wheels in her head already turning. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Well,” she starts, growing increasingly animated, “what about a themed night? Something seasonal. Like a ‘Coyote Glen’s Got Talent’ showcase?
I mean, I don’t know if anyone here can sing, but you’ve gotta have a few hidden gems, right?
” She glances over at me, as if she’s testing the idea out.
“It could be anything really… a poetry slam, karaoke, even a stand-up comedy night. People love getting the chance to show off.”
Her enthusiasm is infectious. I’m leaning on the bar now, half watching her and half trying to keep up with her mind. “I’m with you so far. Keep going.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “What if you did a monthly ‘mix and mingle’ type event? You know, a kind of casual get-together. Maybe a wine night or a craft beer tasting. Throw in a bit of live music, and let the locals connect more outside of the usual small talk. And, hell, even have a community dinner… everyone pitches in a dish, everyone gets a plate. Something simple, but it gets people talking.”
I lean back slightly, impressed. She’s not just throwing out ideas; she’s got a whole vision. A picture of what The Hollow could be. A place where people come to gather, to escape, to live a little bit more.
“That’s actually really solid,” I say, a slow grin spreading on my face. “You’ve got some serious event planning experience, don’t you?”
Her lips twitch, a slight bashful look creeping in. “I used to work in event coordination before I started traveling. Planning big stuff, small stuff. I’ve always had a thing for making sure people have a good time.”
I chuckle softly. “Well, it shows. I think you just might have cracked the code for getting people excited about coming here.”
She leans back in her seat, satisfied with herself, seemingly imagining how it’ll all play out in her head. “I think people need something fresh. This town’s got its charm, but people could get restless.”
I smile, genuinely impressed. “Exactly. Something different, exciting. I’ll bring it up with Ryder, see if he’s on board.”