In that moment, I can’t help noticing how beautiful she is.Not in a walk-down-the-runway kind of way.Juliet has the type of face that tricks you into thinking it’s ordinary.That every bit of it is just fine and nothing more.But the moment she smiles, it’s as if the light takes notice, chiding itself for not giving her the proper attention moments ago.She’s all red and gold, like a phoenix.My mind starts cycling through color palettes that would pair well with her complexion.
I want to crochet her a forest-green scarf and hat set.With matching mittens.
I want to invite my brothers out here, herd them into the library, point to Juliet, and demand one of them woo her so she can be a member of our family.That way, I can enjoy her smile for the rest of our days.
But knowing the Gunner boys, they’d never leave, and then I’d be stuck in the same mess I just escaped from.
Still, I realize something very important.
Juliet is going to be one of my few cherished friends.
Now, I just need to figure out the best course of action to make that happen.If I tell her outright, I might scare her off.
“Would you like to be friends?”My abrupt mouth spits in caution’s face.At least I framed it as a question rather than a demand.
Her smile flickers, and I’m worried it might go out.But then a grin flashes wide, and her gorgeous face threatens to burn my retinas.Reflexively, I reach for my sunglasses, but just keep myself from putting them on.
“Yes.”
“Fantastic.”I smooth my hands over the front of my T-shirt.“When are you free for our first friend date?”
The fact that Juliet laughs rather than cringes from me is the last bit of proof I need.
She’s my kind of person.
13
ZOEY
There’sno harm in using a man for his tool.
His electric jigsaw, that is.
Some pieces of furniture I’m refurbishing require more than a simple sand and stain.I need to make precise cuts, which means I need a jigsaw.Briefly, I considered buying one.But I already have one back in Denver, and I simply forgot to pack it.
Way too much of my truck space was allotted to crafting supplies.
Why did I think I needed a gallon of glitter?
To keep my wallet happy, I opt for borrowing from Warner.
And that’s theonlyreason I called Sawdust and Supplies, asking after him.
My visit to his place is definitely not inspired by the steamy sex scenes in the romance novel I checked out earlier this week.
Not at all.
A man by the name of Mason answered the phone when I called last evening.A minute later, he passed the receiver off to Warner, who immediately agreed to help me out.
I park in front of the hardware store.Turns out, Warner lives in the apartment above his family’s shop.
Small-town life.It’s kind of sweet.
Walking around to the side alley, I spot the door he told me to knock on.
Just as I’m raising my fist, a voice sounds from behind me.“Who are you?”
I turn, meeting the amber eyes of a beautiful young woman.She’s wearing torn jeans and a general air that asks,Why should I give a fuck about you?Her tangle of dark hair frames a pale face that could belong to a sixteen-year-old or just as easily a twenty-six-year-old.
