Chapter 4 Brady
Brady
It wasn’t creepy to stare at her if she was lurking outside my shop like a weirdo. I didn’t get a chance to look at her last night, but now I know she probably would’ve blinded me either way. I don’t know which one I would’ve preferred.
Every time I heard about her so far, I imagined she looked like Clarke because they were twins, but Collins was entirely her own.
Her dark hair was cropped pretty short, and she had it tucked behind her ears.
Both of her arms were covered in tattoos—all black ink, but not one big piece.
They seemed totally random. I didn’t even know her, and I knew they were perfect for her.
Her skin was pale—especially for it being August—and her face was just…
striking. I can’t think of another word for it.
She looked like trouble. And she looked nervous.
I expected her to come in when she looked at her watch—it was almost nine, but she didn’t.
She just stood out there and stared at the windows for a few minutes.
I watched her eyes track all around the big windows that took up nearly the entirety of the storefront.
At one point, her stare got caught on one of the corners, and I wondered what she was looking at.
When Collins checked her watch for the third time, I watched her expression shift—it was like a mask went up.
Her posture shifted. She lifted her chin a little more and rolled her shoulders down and back.
She went from nervous to confident in less than a second.
I quickly went up a few stairs as she pulled the door open.
I didn’t want her to know I was just staring at her through the window.
After a few seconds, I went back down the stairs again—super casual—and when I saw her inside the shop, I remembered that this woman wasn’t just going to be working at my shop, she’d be living here, too.
The apartment above my shop wasn’t tiny, but it also wasn’t big.
It was somewhere in the middle of the cramped-versus-cozy spectrum.
Before I knew Collins—well, I didn’t know her, so before I saw her, I guess—the size of the apartment felt like it would be fine.
Now, I wasn’t so sure. Part of me was realistic enough to realize that judging her based on her appearance, or worrying about what it would be like to live with her just because I thought she was pretty, was fairly lizard-brained. I refused to let the lizard brain win.
Plus, why would a woman like that be interested in a guy like me?
—
“So this is where I keep client contacts and orders and stuff,” I said, opening and closing the top drawer of the filing cabinet.
“And below that, supplies and purchasing orders, and supplies tracking.” She’d been here for a couple of hours, and I spent most of it showing her around.
Her job title was assistant, which meant that I was going to ask her to do all the things I didn’t want to do—like answer the phone. I hate answering the phone.
“Ever heard of a computer?” Collins asked. Her arms were folded across her chest, and I kept getting distracted by her tattoos—trying to figure out what all of them were. So far, I’d puzzled out a dagger and a scorpion—two for two on sharp, deadly objects.
I smiled. “I used to be a software engineer, so yeah,” I said. “Just have had enough of them to last a lifetime.”
“Fancy,” Collins said with a nod. “Why did you come to Sweetwater Peak?” she asked.
“A fresh start,” I said with a shrug.
“Did you get your heart broken?” she asked immediately, and I looked at her in disbelief.
“How could you possibly know that?” I asked. “You’ve known me for two hours.”
“More like twelve hours,” she said. “And people usually say they need fresh starts when they get their heart broken in one of the million ways you can get your heart broken.
“So what was it? A significant other? Did someone die? Did the software engineer version of you die and the upholsterer is what rose from the ashes?”
A huff escaped me. “Jesus,” I said, and rubbed at the back of my neck.
“My money is on a significant other,” Collins said, looking me up and down.
She was right, but I didn’t talk about Jackie. Not today. Not ever if I could help it. I liked my odds. “What makes you say that?”
“The long hair and the stubble,” she said. Maybe she could see things I couldn’t—if she got all of that from looking at me.
Because she was right that I used to keep my hair short and my face clean-shaven, but I didn’t want to admit that.
So I just went back to talking about supplies. “In the mornings, I’d like to have a kind of progress report on projects—where we’re at in the process, if things need to be ordered, or pickup and delivery notes.”
“Got it,” Collins said. “Also, your nonanswer is an answer, by the way.”
“Noted,” I said. “I have an extra laptop that I bought for the shop. I just never use it, but if you want to transfer everything, I’ll get it set up down here.”
“Can I ask how you went from big-time software engineer to small-town upholsterer?”
“You can ask,” I sighed. “No guarantees I’ll answer.”
Collins stared at me, her question hanging out there waiting for me.
I thought about it for a second. I thought I could get away with answering that specific question without having to dive into anything else.
“My granddad was an upholsterer,” I said. “He taught me a lot when I was younger.”
“Did you stick with it?” Collins asked.
I shook my head. “I picked it back up a few years ago. I was itching for something to do with my hands.”
“All the coding wasn’t enough?”
She had no idea.
“No, the coding wasn’t enough.”
“So how did you go from ‘my granddad taught me’ to ‘I’m good enough for this to be my job now’?”
“YouTube,” I said, and Collins grinned up at me like she was delighted and amused by my answer. “A-and a few local classes,” I stuttered. “And practice.”
“An unstoppable trio. You made the right choice, though. Upholstery is way hotter than software engineering,” she said as she looked around the shop.
If I’d been drinking water, I would’ve choked on it.
I felt the tips of my ears heat. I was grateful for the longer hair, so hopefully Collins couldn’t see.
She didn’t seem fazed. She just kept talking, and I kept thinking about how she inadvertently called me hot and how that one word had effortlessly reduced me to a fumbling teenager.
“Upholstery also fits in here,” she said. “This road is basically a one-stop shop for all kinds of repairs with you, the cobbler, and the tailor.”
“That’s been my experience so far.” I nodded. “I’ve honestly been busier than I thought I would.”
Collins made eye contact with me again, and I noticed that her eyelashes weren’t coated with black, but with a dark burgundy color. It made her hazel eyes look lighter. “U-um,” I stuttered again. “So back to anything you might need down here.”
“We can see how this week goes,” she said. “I’m not like an organizational genius or anything, and I’m usually pretty good at operating within the specs provided.” Her eyes flitted to something behind me, and I instinctively looked over my shoulder.
There was nothing there.
“So,” she said. “This desk is mine?”
“Yeah,” I said, swiping a couple of papers off it. “It was left here from one of the previous businesses. I don’t really use it—except to stack things—but I thought it would be nice to have someone near the front of the store just in case people come in.”
“Do people come in often?” From her tone of voice, I figured she already knew the answer to that.
I shook my head. “Not really. But they do call a lot.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “So is a lot of your business just people who want to facelift their furniture?”
“About three-quarters,” I responded. “The other stuff comes from your family, usually.”
“My family?”
“Yeah, that’s how I met them. They source a lot of antique furniture—which you probably know—and I usually reupholster the stuff that has soft surfaces. I’ve got a whole Gothic Revival set from them that I’m chipping away at right now.”
I watched Collins’s eyes look behind me again. What was she looking at? “Oh,” she said. “Cool. I feel like they used to just sell that stuff as is.”
I nodded. “It started with a piece that was really torn up—a footstool with a cushion on top. Easy, turned out great—and after that, Dex thought it was a good partnership.”
“It is.” Collins nodded. “So the YouTube upholsterer has a good thing going on.”
“You’re forgetting the granddad part,” I said. “That’s the important part.”
“Were you close with him?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I spent more time with him when I was younger than I did with anyone else.” I didn’t usually talk so damn much, but it felt easier than usual for me.
Collins was attentive. I didn’t know if she was being that way on purpose or if it was part of the mask that she put on before she came in here, but it was a good skill.
“That’s cool,” she said with a soft smile. “I have someone like that, too. So do you want to take me through the projects you currently have and what’s in the pipeline?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s a good idea,” I agreed.
“I’m going to blame the fact that I don’t have a notebook and pen on the fact that all of my belongings are in my car, which is probably still on the side of the road, and we’re both going to pretend that I would have brought one anyway—even though I probably wouldn’t have.
” Collins smiled at me. She had a dimple on one side of her face that you could lose a dime in.
“So do you have a pen and paper? Or a pencil and paper?”
“U-uh,” I stammered, momentarily…dazzled, I guess? Embarrassing. “Yeah.” I reached for one of the desk drawers and pulled out a notepad and a construction pencil. I’d have to remember to get some actual pens in here.
Collins took them from me. “Should we go back there?” She nodded back toward my workspace.
“Right,” I said, and gestured for her to go ahead of me. “After you.”
—