“I need to get some nice quality wood, cherry or oak maybe? I’ll see what they have at the hardware store in Springwood. I’ll get a few different stains too, then build a working model I can display.”
“I can help,” I said.
Her brows furrowed. “You’ve already done so much—”
“I don’t mind; I love a good trip to the hardware store.”
Her face softened, and she smiled. “Alright then, then. Road trip. Your truck or my SUV?”
Chapter Seven
Vera
We took Wyatt’s truck.
Probably for the best. I had taken my SUV on lumber runs before, but it hadn’t been pretty, and I didn’t want to risk the expensive wood getting dented. I settled into the passenger seat, watching as Wyatt rested one hand on the top of the steering wheel. His skin was a patchwork of cuts and old scars, not so different from my own when I used to work construction. Skilled or not, we all got bumps, bruises, scrapes, and splinters.
We sat in companionable silence as we made the forty-five-minute drive to Springwood. The silence was nice, not awkward—just there. We made it to the hardware store, and Wyatt carefully backed his truck into a parking stall. It was a warm day, and I turned my face up to enjoy the sun.
Once we were in the store, he grabbed a wheely cart, and started moving through the aisles.
We spent a full hour looking at different wood, hinges, stains, and drawer pulls. I grabbed brushes and screws, too. By the time we were done, I was getting tired. “Hungry? I owe you dinner for all the help,” I asked as we carefully slid the planks into the bed of his truck.
“Can’t say no to that. I’m starving. What do you feel like?”
“Anything but diner food. I get enough of that at work.”
He laughed. “Understandable. Okay, how about sushi?”
We found a place nearby and grabbed a table by the window. Music played low in the background, and I could smell seaweed and something savory.
Once we had placed our order, we relaxed into the vinyl booth, checking our phones and taking in the buzz of the busy restaurant around us.
I wanted to get to know him better, even though, if this design worked, we really wouldn’t need to see each other much anymore.
The server arrived with our appetizers. A series of items each on its own plate. She put them between us, and we dug in.
He broke the ice before I thought of a topic. “I had fun talking to Ben the other day. He’s a great kid.”
“Thanks,” I said, tracing the rim of my teacup with a finger. Steam curled up, smelling faintly of jasmine. “I think so, too. Too smart for his own good. He’s got a mind for numbers.”
“I wish I could relate on the math front,” Wyatt said, leaning back in the vinyl booth. Sunlight slanted across the table, glinting off his watch. “There’s a reason I never became an architect or an engineer. But we have a lot in common, anyway. I was raised by a single mom, too.”
I sipped the green tea the server had left at our table. “What’s your mom like?”
His face softened. “The hardest-working person I know. My dad left before I was born, and she kept everything going.”
“That must have been rough on both of you.”
“It was,” he explained, his normally smiling face was somber. “She lost her sense of humor along the way, so I made it my job to bring it back. I would always try to make her laugh. Then, once I was old enough, I helped with chores and bills, and things got a bit easier.”
“So you’ve always been a hard-working guy.”
He nodded. “Mom made me what I am today.”
“And what is that?” I asked, tilting my head, trying to lighten up our serious conversation.
“Handy, handsome, and hilarious.”
