Page 26 of Will Bark for Pizza
“Yep.”
“Without saying goodbye?”
“Yep,” I answered over my shoulder.
“Can I at least get your number?”
“That’s something a serial killer would ask.”
“Or a man who’s interested,” he fired back.
At the corner, we locked gazes. Before I could do something reckless, like give in to his simple request, I sent him a flirty wave and disappeared behind the building, rushing back to my Jeep.
TEN
BECKETT
“This’ll haveto be the last one for this round,” Joe Mason said, shimmying a sheet of drywall onto the high stack in the bed of my heavy-duty truck.
We were both sweating our asses off after hauling this out the back of the hardware store and into my truck. The humidity in Bluebell Springs was far lower than I was used to, but once that sun came up over the mountains, everything warmed up fast. I wished this was all there was, but the Kniffen Street house was a gut job. I’d have to come back tomorrow to get the rest.
I went around the side of my truck to fish tow straps from the built-in toolbox, catching sight of something purple tucked beneath it.
Red’s paddle.
Red.
She caught me off guard this morning, right in the middle of an argument with Madeline. As I suspected, my sister begged me to put my parents up in one of my rentals,and she did her homework to know which one was currently sitting empty. Madeline was a pain in the ass when she set her mind to something, which explained the dozens of text messages and two voicemails since this morning’sdiscussion—including one from my brother-in-law.
Seeing Red eating a cupcake with her dog eased some of the tension. For those few minutes, I forgot all about my headache-inducing family.
Until Husker spotted a chipmunk and iced coffee went everywhere.
I really needed to stop running into Red in wet clothes. Lake water. Iced coffee. It didn’t seem to matter. Fuck, would it be a torrential downpour next? All possibilities were responsible for showcasing the shape of her perfectly curvy body, and left my imagination running wild. I tried to convince myself it’d be different if she were a brunette or a blonde, but I suspected that was a bullshit lie.
Something about that woman had my full attention.
A woman with a red Jeep and Nebraska plates who I might never see again.
“I’m going to grab you a box of drywall screws.”
Joe slipped inside the back door of the store before I could tell him I already had plenty, so I set to work on the tow straps. The trip to the Kniffen Street house was a short drive from here, but it was up a steep hill. I wasn’t risking any of the drywall falling out on the three-minute trip over.
“That’s everything,” Joe said upon returning. “Got enough straps?”
“Yeah, plenty.”
“My boys helping you out with this?” Joe asked, leaning his arms against the side of my truck as I tightened the straps.
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. Glad you have some help.”
I could tell Joe was stalling, but I didn’t want to push him into a conversation about his late wife’s bookstore if he wasn’t ready. I checked all the ratchets once more to buy him time.
He pulled off his ball cap and scrubbed a hand through his thick silvering hair. He’d been infantry; growing out his hair now was a point of pride. He wore it well, except when he was stressed. His finger combing often left it standing on end until his ball cap tamed it back down.
“You’re here about the bookstore, right?” he asked.
