Page 45 of Small Town Daddy

But then, the fear crept back in, whispering old insecurities. What if this was just another mistake? Another heartbreak waiting to happen?

I shook my head, determined to quiet those fears. I wanted to believe in us, in the connection we'd built.

Continuing my stroll, I passed by Wilkins' Hardware, the scent of wood and metal wafting through the open door. It was a comforting reminder of Marcus, grounding me in reality rather than the fantasies concocted by my anxieties.

To my surprise, though, the store was closed. I wondered where Marcus was. Well, I had to head back home to get on with the renovations. No time to linger.

As I rounded the corner, my house came into view, and there it was—Marcus's truck parked right out front. My heart did a little dance in my chest. I quickened my pace, curiosity pulling me forward.

"Hey, what’s going on?" I called, trying to keep my voice steady. My porch was in desperate need of repair, but seeing Marcus bent over those rotten wood planks made everything feel a little brighter. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, the casual t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

"Thought I'd surprise you," he said, straightening up. His grin was infectious, a smudge of dirt giving him a rugged charm that made my stomach flutter. "This porch needed fixing, and I had some free time."

"Wow, thank you." A rush of warmth spread through me, pushing aside the lingering doubts from earlier. It was the little things—his initiative, his care—that spoke volumes.

"Just doing my part," he replied with a shrug, as if it were no big deal. But it was. To me, it was everything.

I stepped closer, catching the scent of sawdust mingling with the fresh air. Watching him work, so effortlessly competent, was oddly intimate. I couldn't help but smile, feeling both grateful and strangely nervous. It wasn’t just about the porch; it was about what it meant.

“You want a drink, Mister Renovator? I’ve got some cokes in the fridge.”

“Wouldn’t say no,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.

I popped inside, brought out a couple of cokes, and passed one to Marcus.

The cold drink felt good in my hands, the condensation trickling down to wet my fingers. Marcus sat beside me on the steps, his gaze fixed on the freshly repaired porch. He was talking about the repairs, something about wood types and durability, but my mind was elsewhere.

"Marcus," I said, feeling a knot form in my stomach. The urge to spill everything bubbled up inside me, but as he turned his full attention to me, those words tangled up in my throat. His blue eyes met mine, steady and sure, and all I could manage was a soft, "I just wanted to say thank you—for everything."

He paused, studying me, his brow furrowing slightly. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and calm.

"Yeah, just a lot on my mind," I replied, trying to muster a convincing smile. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

"Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here," he assured me, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder. That simple touch sent warmth spreading through me, making my heart thump a little harder.

"Thanks," I murmured, grateful for his understanding.

Marcus turned to me with a thoughtful look. "I was thinking, how about we try something different tonight?" he proposed, his voice low and inviting.

"Different?" I echoed, feeling a flutter of anticipation twist in my stomach. My mind raced with possibilities as I recalled the contract we had created together—the boundaries, the trust we'd been cultivating like a fragile plant in need of care.

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning back on his elbows, eyes fixed on me. "Is there anything you've been curious about or wanting to explore?"

His question hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and potential. I bit my lip, considering. The idea of pushing our limits both thrilled and terrified me. But wasn't that what this was all about? Trusting him. Trusting myself.

"I want to push our limits," I said, my voice stronger than I'd expected. "Work on building more trust between us."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. His approval wrapped around me like a warm blanket. "I'm open to that," he said, sitting up straighter. "I have the perfect thing in mind."

My curiosity piqued, I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly, a sound that made my heart skip. "You'll see," he replied cryptically. And just like that, the evening held untold possibilities—an adventure waiting to unfold, one step at a time.

***

Today, the renovation work was actually quite nice. My toil had started to pay off—parts of the house were looking good. The spirit of the place, the comfy feel, was still there. But it just looked cleaner, more hopeful and positive. Overall, it was much nicer to spend time there.

I steamed off some wallpaper in the lounge, attacking what was left with a sharp scraper Marcus had given me.

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