Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“I can’t imagine why.” I look him up and down and don’t try to hide my repulsion. He’s wearing a pair of cargo shorts that are ratty and stained, and his faded Budweiser shirt has a cigarette burn on the stomach. “With guys like you lining up, I’d imagine it was a hard choice.”
“Right?” He smiles like I’m not this close to wrapping my hands around his throat.
He goes back to his phone, and I shake my head. God, give me strength.
I grab the pliers once again and go back to work. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can dump him at his dad’s garage. I promised to let him come work with me two days a week, and it’s still too damn many.
Once I’ve changed out the wiring, I hook it up to the water heater and turn the power back on. When I’m finished cleaning up, I shove the toolbox in Troy’s chest, and he grabs it as a whoosh of air leaves his lungs.
“Take that to the truck.”
“Okay,” he grunts and fumbles out the door.
“We’re all finished, Mrs. Nelson,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. “It was a quick fix, no charge.”
“Julius Mills, I won’t have that,” the older lady huffs and puts a hand on her hip. “You’ll charge me or I’ll tell your grandmother you stole my silver.”
I tuck my chin to hide my blush. I hate how my cheeks burn every time I get shy. It’s not that I don’t charge for what I do, but when it’s something quick, I usually don’t. It’s served me well in the past and brought me more business than I can keep up with. I’m not hoping Mrs. Nelson is going to send thousands of dollars in business my way. I'm doing this because she’s on a fixed income and friends with my grandma.
“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her and nod toward the counter. “We’re running a special right now on taking payment in the form of pound cake.”
“You keep being sweet to me and I’m gonna scoop you up. You know I’m a widowed woman?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I blush again. I stay quiet as she wraps up the pound cake and makes me promise to come back next week for another.
I get in the truck and put the pound cake on the center console between us. While I’m buckling up, Troy reaches for it.
“Oh, hell yeah.”
“When you do some actual work, you can get a cut of the profits,” I tell him and smack his hand away.
He slouches in his seat like a teenager and sulks the whole way to his dad’s shop. The second I pull up, he jumps out like his ass is on fire. It’s the fastest he’s moved all day. Good. Maybe if I make it miserable for him too, he’ll stop coming around.
Glancing at the dessert, I can’t help but wonder if Liv likes pound cake. It’s Wednesday, which is usually when I walk by her shop to check my post office box. Maybe I could go in and ask her if she’d like a slice.
The thought of her makes my cheeks heat and my shoulders slump. Why would someone as beautiful and charming as her want to settle for a shy nobody like me?
I must like making myself miserable because I turn my truck in that direction.
Chapter Three
LIV
The small bell over the entry door chimes, and I perk up. My face falls when I see it’s Sawyer strolling in.
“You’re hard on a man’s ego, Liv,” Sawyer laughs. I don’t think I or anyone could dent Sawyer’s ego.
Girls from all around town are constantly chasing the man. I get it. He’s charming, down-to-earth, and handsome in a classic kind of way. He’s one of the good ones, and thankfully not banging every girl in town. Although it’s not for their lack of trying.
I’ve managed to stay out of the Sawyer fan club. He’s not hairy or growly enough for me. I suppose we all have our types, though mine is central to one man.
“I think your ego is fine.” Too bad mine isn’t doing so great.
Bored after making my TikToks this morning, I hopped over to do some busy work, thinking it would make the time pass by quicker. It did, but it was also rather depressing. Not for the shop as a whole but my own shortcomings. Numbers don’t lie. Unless I’m standing on a scale, in which case those numbers are bullshit and mean nothing.
The truth is, I’ve spent more money on the supplies I need to make my creations than I’ve made. The store is doing well, but my projects are costing us money at this point. It makes me wonder if I should stop. The thought makes my heart heavy because I enjoy making them.