After finding my favorite shade of hunter green paint in one of the backrooms, I decided it was fate. Not to mention the color fit perfectly with the new aesthetic for the Hollow Hinge.
I smile, looking at the old wood paneling that now has a fresh look. It isn’t perfect, and some areas need to be sanded down, but it will work for now. And it’s nothing that a few potted plants and some greenery can’t liven up.
A quiet glow of pride rises inside me, and I almost let myself sit in it until my eyes land on the lackluster sign lurking overhead.
The name of the store is painted in bright bold capital letters, but most of the paint has faded or chipped off at this point. You can barely make out the “Hollow” part of the name. I can just imagine people walking down the street and looking at my storefront, wondering what idiot would dedicate an entire shop to selling door hinges.
I shrug and stretch my arms behind my back until I hear the soft crack of my shoulders. My mind races with ideas for the new sign, but I know I have to walk away before I drag out a ladder and take matters into my own hands.
I quickly turn on my heel to collect my painting supplies when I crash into a wall of muscle that has me tripping over myself.
Before I can meet my cold, hard ending on the pavement, two hands reach out and grab me, cradling my body.
My eyes squint, searching through the blinding light of the mid-afternoon sun. When my savior’s face finally becomes clear, I wish he had let me fall.
“You better be here to tell me my truck has magically come back to life.”
“I guess you can call what I do magic,” Knox winks, his arms still firmly wrapped around me, “but sadly, I’m not here about the truck…entirely.”
Before I can slam the mental block down, I’m caught off guard by the familiar scent of crushed pine needles and smoke. Two scents that shouldn’t go together, but on him they work.
I blink hard and find my footing before wiggling out of his grasp. “Why are you here then?” I growl, narrowing my eyes.
This guy really can’t take a hint. Maybe I need to be meaner. Or change strategies completely.
He smiles and tucks his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. My eyes run down his forearms and spot a few additional tattoos I didn’t notice the other day. The black T-shirt he’s wearing makes the ink pop against his tan, making his skin glow.
Fuck him and his ability to make a simple T-shirt look hot.
“My eyes are up here, Bambi.”
I open my mouth to shut down the dumb nickname that he gave me when we were kids. The sadistic bastard only uses it to get a rise out of me. If I keep calling him out, that smile will only continue to grow along with my irritation.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips.
“Always such a delight,” Knox hums to himself, looking up at my busted sign. “I’d like to request an audience with the hinge queen.”
I cringe, deciding to ignore the insult. “I don’t know what else we could possibly have to discuss that doesn’t involve me getting my truck back on the road.”
“Technically, it does have to do with your truck,” he answers, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. I know that look well enough to know better, but unfortunately, the bane of my existence has the upper hand.
I loop my thumbs in the straps of my overalls and lean on one hip. “Spit it out.”
“Cute overalls. I like this look,” he says, completely ignoring the thin line my patience is currently balancing on. But even through the irritation, I can’t ignore the slow burn spreading across my skin as his eyes move up and down my body.
“Knox,” I practically snarl. But before he can respond, Isee a group of women staring at us across the street and I remember what Marie said. “If you want to talk, let’s go inside.”
Knox’s eyes follow mine to the women across the street, and his entire face sinks into a frown. But then, when he turns around, his face bounces back to all smiles and the same carefree Aura that drew me in in the first place.
“Lead the way,” he orders, sweeping one hand toward the shop door like he’s escorting me somewhere glamorous and not a dusty antique store with a questionable crack in the wall.
The last thing I want is Knox tainting my new sanctuary with his obnoxious energy, but I also don’t need to be the latest hot gossip so soon after rolling into town. I ball both hands into tight fists and push myself forward.
He trails behind me—his footsteps heavy and unsure. And when we walk through the door, I’m met with silence. I spin around to find his eyes, carefully taking in the space he’s been in hundreds of times.
“When was the last time you were in here?” I ask, lowering my guard unexpectedly. But there’s something in his eyes that makes me step a little further into his orbit.
When his eyes land back on mine, his face relaxes. “It’s been a few years. I actually—” he starts to say, but then stops himself mid-sentence, “—umm, your grandma used to save vintage garage signs for me. It’s weird being in here without her.”
