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Gavin
The hardware store was nearly empty when I strolled in on Monday morning. I supposed that was what happened when you got there as soon as they opened. There was no time to waste. I had to finish this project before the school year started and I stepped into my new role as assistant principal at Willow Brook Falls Elementary.
The house I bought when I moved here from West Virginia was a real fixer upper. I’d gotten a killer deal on it, but it needed major upgrades. Luckily, I had all summer to work on it plus a couple of handy cousins to help. They were the reason I was here in Willow Brook Falls in the first place. The Lewis clan was well known around these parts, my uncle being the most sought-after contractor in the area and my oldest cousin was the high school football coach. My younger cousin, Macon—the one I was closest to—was a successful architect and family man. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty, though. He started out working construction for his dad and would be helping me on the big repairs around the house.
My mom was the youngest Lewis sibling. She’d gotten pregnant with me just out of high school and had followed my dad to West Virginia so he could work in the coal mines. He supported us while she went to college and eventually became a teacher. She was the reason I was so passionate about education.
Thinking of my father’s early days in the coal mines reminded me of the woman who broke my heart. Abby Harris. She lost her father in a coal mining accident as a child which led to her mother’s downward spiral. It damaged her family beyond repair, but last I heard, her mom was back in the picture and doing much better. I thought when I left town, I’d finally be able to escape the gossip, but people still liked to tell me about everything going on back home, especially when it came to Abby.
I’d been ready to settle down and had thought Abby might’ve been the one. I was in love with her and adored her little girl, but the moment her ex—Chloe’s father—rolled back into town after being gone for years, she dropped me like a bad habit. She didn’t even have the decency to tell me it was over. I had to witness them together, strolling around like one big happy family like I was never part of her life. I supposed they were happy now. Last I heard they were engaged. I was at a point now where I wished them well, but that wound was slow to close, and I learned my lesson: don’t fall in love with a single mom. Unless the child’s father was dead or remarried, the possibility of reconciliation was always on the table.
I was so lost in my thoughts, that I nearly missed the statuesque blonde when I turned down the next aisle. I slowed as I approached, taking her in as her eyes drifted between two selections of grout, her brows knitted in concentration. She wore a racerback tank and snug fitting yoga pants that hugged her slender legs and accentuated a perky ass. Her long, flaxen hair was pulled into a ponytail that swished back and forth with each turn of her head.
“Shower or floor?” I asked, and her head snapped up, her eyes landing on mine.
“Excuse me?” she said, her eyes dropping to my chest as though she was searching for a name tag. I didn’t work here, but I knew a thing or two about tile.
“You’ve got a bag of unsanded and a bag of finely sanded grout. One’s typically used for shower tile and the other for floors.”
“Oh,” she said, color rising to her cheeks. Interesting. I wondered what she thought I’d meant by that question. “Floor,” she answered.
“You’ll want this one then,” I said, tapping on the bag in her right hand.
“Okay. Thanks.” She placed the wrong bag on the shelf and clutched the correct one in her hands. My eyes fell to her mouth where she trapped her lower lip between her teeth. She stood there, staring at the other supplies as though they were foreign objects. I began collecting what I needed and placed the items in my buggy.
“I’m Gavin, by the way,” I offered as I grabbed a bag of grout from the shelf. “I have a kitchen to retile,” I explained, lifting the bag before adding it to my cart.
“Melody,” she replied. “Attempting to restore a Victorian bathroom to its former glory.” That sounded like both a dream and a nightmare. It would be a lot of work, but if it was done right, it would look amazing.
“That the tile for the floor?” I motioned to the stack of boxes in her buggy.
“Sure is,” she replied as I studied the picture on the box. It was the hexagonal white tile reminiscent of the Victorian era.
“That’s going to look great,” I offered.
“I hope so.”
“Excuse me,” I said as I reached past her for a grout float. My arm came within inches of her chest, and she sucked in a breath. Goosebumps spread over my arms at the sound, and the air buzzed around us. It was charged like when you got too close to an electric fence. You didn’t have to touch it to feel its power. I grabbed what I needed and quickly moved away. Did she feel it too?
A moment passed and finally she turned to me. “Do I need all that stuff too?” she asked, waving a hand toward my cart.
“If you want the job to look professional, you do.”
Her lips turned down into a frown. “I definitely don’t want it to look like an amateur did it, even though I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.” She huffed out a laugh, and I chuckled.
“You’ve got this. There are hundreds, probably even thousands of videos online that show you how to do it.”
Offer to help her, a voice inside my head chimed in. But I didn’t want to freak her out or come across as some creepy guy who wanted to get into her house. Besides, I needed to get back to my own projects. I didn’t really have time to take on hers as well. Although, I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with her.
“I think their website,” I began, waving to indicate the store we were in, “has a whole section with tutorials.”
“I didn’t know that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I offered her a grin and stood back as she loaded her cart with the same supplies I’d gathered. “You’ll need one of these too,” I instructed, plucking a grout sponge off the shelf and handing it to her. I already had some at home so I didn’t grab any, but she would need them.
The tips of her fingers brushed mine when she took it from my hands, and a spark of electricity traveled up my arm. If just one touch could do that, I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel to have her body wrapped around mine. My gaze briefly dipped to the tiny sliver of cleavage peeking above the scoop neck of her tank before returning to her face. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear as she held onto the sponge.
“Thanks again.” She offered me a grateful smile before placing it in her buggy and heading toward the end of the aisle. I watched as she walked away, wondering if I should call out to her, maybe ask her out. I didn’t see a ring on her finger, but that didn’t always mean anything. She spared me one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing.
