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From the looks of it, he’s crudely drilled his name into a slab of stained oak. Still, it’s lovely and I tell him so, wiping my hands on my apron and coming out to meet him. It’s much colder outside the food truck, but I don’t mind.
“Thanks. A man at a woodworking booth was letting a bunch of kids practice, but the line wassolong.” He sags his shoulders for emphasis. “So I took this one to use. It’s awesome, right?”
He hands me the wood, and I make a show of examining it. “Incredible. I hope you were careful with the power tools though.” I let out a laugh, but stop when my fingers feel something on the back. I flip it over to see a lovely carving of a wolf in a forest. At first, I marvel at the masterpiece, but then my eyes catch a glimpse of the price tag on the bottom. My mouth drops open.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.My adrenaline picks up.
“Preston, this is—”
“Cool, right? Flip it back over, that’s the part I did. My name P-r-e-s—”
“Preston,” I cut him off, my tone becoming more panicked. “Where did you get this? This was for sale. The man was probably letting kids practice onblankpieces of wood. You just stole this and ruined a very expensive piece of art. What were you thinking?”
Preston’s eyes tear up, and I take a breath to calm myself.
“It’s okay, we just need to find whose it is. We’ll take it back and apologize.”
He sniffles. “I didn’t know it was an artwork. I thought it was a scrap piece, like all the others.”
My heart melts for him. He didn’t mean to, but still… I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford to pay this much money for anything right now, let alone art. I just hope we can come to a sensible agreement.
“Hey, kid!” A man says, walking over to Preston and me. He stops when he sees me holding the item. “Oh, hello.”
He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s got broad, dark mesmerizing eyes, broad shoulders, and a chiseled jawline. He has messy brown hair and stubble along his jaw that removes all sensibility in my mind. I try not to gawk for too long and hold up the piece of wood. “Is this yours?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah… My name’s Hunter Richards, I have a booth a little over that way.” He jabs his thumb back to where he came. His voice is rough but kind, but I seem to have lost mine.
“Everly Tiding,” I tell him and reach out my hand. He shakes it, and I swear my fingers tingle where his skin touches mine. “I’m Preston’s mom. I’m so sorry, he knows better…”
“How about we chat about it over some cookies?” He gestures toward the food truck. “Unless you have anything in the oven right now.”
I shake my head. “No, just icing, but that can wait.”
“Perfect,” he says, grinning. “What do you recommend?”
