Chapter 5
Chapter Five
BAYLOR
“I gotta get to town and go to the hardware store,” I call out.
“What the… oh fuck,” Boone murmurs from behind me.
Oh fuck is right. I have just found the fucking shit of all shits. Water damage on hardwood floors. Water damage that’s probably been going on for decades. Using my foot, I press down on the offending piece of wood and cringe. It’s spongy. It’s still fucking wet.
“What’re ya gonna do?” he asks.
Turning my head, I look back over my shoulder at him.
“I don’t know,” I state. “I mean, I know it’s all got to come up, but I need some fans and to get some tools.
This shit all has to be replaced, probably the subflooring too.
I can’t imagine it didn’t get damaged. But before I do any of that, I need to find the source and dry it out. ”
“Fuck,” Boone hisses. “We might have to hire someone for this.”
He’s right, but I don’t know if I’m willing to admit to that yet.
I’m going to try to get it handled myself, even if I really wish my dad or grandpa were around so I could ask questions.
But they aren’t, so unless Beckett knows something I don’t, which I fucking doubt, I’m going to have to figure it out myself.
“I’ll be back in a bit.”
Leaving Boone and Briggs at the house working on the shit outside, I head to the hardware store to try and figure some shit out.
Maybe some kind of miracle will happen, and I’ll just have the knowledge of what to do pop into my head the minute I walk into the store. Weirder shit has happened, I’m sure.
Climbing into my truck, I start the engine before backing up, cutting the wheel, and turning so that I can drive straight down the long dirt road without having to back up the entire length.
Turning left at the county road, I guide the truck onto the asphalt road and head toward town. With the windows rolled down, I blast ’90s country and let the warm wind move through the cab of the truck.
It’s hot; the weather here always seems to be hot, or about to get hot. Then we get a cold snap for about two weeks, just to keep our bodies in check, before it gets hot again. We’ve already had our cold snap, and now it’s warming up again.
When I reach the first of two stoplights, I turn the music down and take in the streets.
There are cars coming and going, but that isn’t really what I’m looking at.
It’s the people moving around downtown. We may not live in the city, but there are people meandering, which proves we aren’t a dead town yet.
Granite Falls may not be exploding into a big city, or even rolling toward becoming one, but it’s still got life in it.
And I’m proud to call it home.
A few moments later, I pull into the local hardware store parking lot and climb out of my truck. Walking inside, I jerk my chin toward Harvey, who runs the store, but head to the back where I know the fans will be located.
My feet stop in their tracks when I hear something. I don’t even realize why I’ve stopped or what I’ve heard, but then it happens again, and I turn my head, looking over to see Emily Brown standing in the middle of the faucet aisle staring up at the display of bathroom faucets.
Then I hear the noise again. It’s a hiccup, and that’s when I look at her profile a little closer. There are tears streaming down her cheeks, and her bottom lip is poked out slightly, trembling.
I debate walking over to check on her. Then, when she hiccups again, I decide that I have to. There’s no way I can leave a woman crying in the middle of a fucking hardware store. My daddy and granddad would come back to haunt me if I did.
“Emily?” I call out softly.
Her head whips around as she lifts her hands to her face, wiping the tears away quickly.
There is a moment of silence as we stand in front of one another.
My body hums being this close to her again.
I want her. It’s why I’ve stayed away from her the past year.
I want her too goddamn badly for my own sanity.
“Oh, hey,” she whispers, and I swear my cock hardens instantly.
This is the Emily I know from my bedroom, the shy, the sweet, and the soft. It’s the Emily I can’t stay away from. Sure, the sultry, sexy one is good, too, but this is the one that really winds me up.
“You good?” I ask.
She shrugs a shoulder, then nods a couple of times. “I’m good,” she lies.
I think about turning around and walking away. She said she was good, and that’s all I should need to assuage any guilt I might feel. But she is clearly not good. And past that, I don’t think I want to walk away from her.