Page 9 of Small Town Daddy

I found solace in the familiar routines of Small Falls. Marie's infectious laughter at The Daily Grind, the soft rustle of pages turning as I browsed through old novels at the town library, and the comforting scent of freshly baked bread from Mrs. Henderson's bakery all beckoned me with their warm embrace. Yet, beneath these comforting rituals lay the unspoken truth that I was avoiding the inevitable.

“I know, I know,” I said, giving Mr. Whiskers a squeeze, “I’ve got to get my butt in gear.”

I knew it wouldn't be easy, both physically and emotionally. But as much as I dreaded it, there was a sense of duty that weighed heavy on my shoulders.

As I sat in front of the mirror, brushing my hair, I couldn't help but feel like a child again. It was something about this house that always brought out my inner child.

I looked over at Mr. Whiskers sitting on my bed, his button eyes staring back at me with understanding. Talking to him like this was my secret—a way to let my little side out when no one else could see. I thought about leaving him safe at home today, but my chest tightened at the idea. After a moment's hesitation, I tucked him into my big tote bag and smiled at him.

"Just in case," I said softly.

With determination in my step, I made my way downstairs and headed out. The sun shone brightly overhead, warming up the crisp autumn air.

My plan for the day was to pick up some tools and materials at the hardware store (while avoiding drooling too much at the inevitable sight of Marcus Wilkins). But before that, I needed some caffeine, andmaybea pastry or two.

The rich scent of coffee and muffins enveloped me as I stepped into The Daily Grind. Marie rushed over and pulled me into a warm hug, her wild blonde curls tickling my cheek.

"Ready to take on the world, Luce?" Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she looked me up and down. "Casual Friday, huh?"

I nodded, my grip tightening on my bag's strap. "You know it. Today’s the day I start."

As if I knew where to start.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to tackle?”

“Paint?” I said, tentatively.

“So you’ve steamed off all the wallpaper?”

“Uhhh . . . don’t you just paint over it?” My heart-rate spiked.

“I mean, you can, but, it won’t look good.”

“Right.” I swallowed hard.

Marie tilted her head. "Nervous about something? Want me to come with? I can be your trusty sidekick. Make sure you get everything you need."

My shoulders relaxed. Having her there would help keep me steady. "I'd really like that, actually."

"Perfect!" She slung an arm around me. "Let's get this show on the road. Hammers and paint, here we come!"

She flipped the sign to closed, and joined me. As we headed out, my mind drifted to the monumental task ahead—and the chance I might run into Marcus at the store. My pulse quickened. Could I really handle flirting and big renovation decisions all at once?

Why was I eventhinkingabout flirting? I was all over the place. I patted my bag, picturing Mr. Whiskers nestled inside. At least I had my special backup today.

The bell jingled merrily as Marie and I stepped into Wilkins' Hardware. I froze, jaw-dropping at the sheer enormity of it all—endless aisles packed with gleaming tools, buckets of nails, cans of paint in every hue. It was like some kind of handyman's labyrinth.

With shaking hands, I fumbled for my list, the crinkled paper covered in my messy scrawl.

Paint.

Brushes.

Paint thinner.

Sandpaper.

It wasn’t exactly an extensive list. Even so, I didn’t know where to start.

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