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Instead, I heard Harlow laugh again. The sound hit me solidly in the gut and I stared at her for far too long before Cole nudged me from behind, reminding me that I was standing next to their table like a creepy eavesdropper. So, I made some comment about hearing their joke which had gone over like a lead balloon and made all three women stop laughing immediately. Great job, Linc. Dumbass.
Luckily Cole has always been a charmer. He spoke up and filled the silence, taking the attention off me. Piper and her sister chimed in and before I knew it, we were sitting with the ladies, ordering another round of drinks. Cole managed to squeeze himself in next to Layna which left me sitting next to Harlow, trying not to stare at her. But damn, she looked good. Not that she doesn’t always look good. Even in those silly pajamas I’d seen her in that morning all those months ago. Thinking of Harlow in pajamas led to thoughts of her in bed which led to an uncomfortable situation in my pants.
“How’s the business coming along, Linc,” Piper asked, pulling me out of my dirty thoughts about the woman next to me.
“Good,” I managed. “It’s a lot of work, but things are coming together.”
Cole beamed at me. “Don’t let the false modesty fool you. Linc’s kicking ass and taking names.”
My face went red, and I kept my gaze on the table, rather than risk meeting anyone’s eyes. Luckily, the drinks showed up at that moment and I used the distraction to take the attention off me. It wasn’t long before Luke joined us and evened up the numbers. We ended up sitting with Harlow and the others for more than an hour, drinking and talking and laughing. Well, the others did most of the talking and I only had to chime in here and there. I was happy to let them carry the conversation because I’ve never been very good in group settings. And I’ve always managed to get tongue-tied anytime Harlow St. James was around.
I don’t know what it is about her. I’ve known her since I moved to this town as a kid. In a town as small as ours, it was impossible not to know everyone my age. While Harlow and I were never friends, exactly, we’ve always known one another. And I’ve never been able to string more than a few words together when she’s around. After all these years, I’m sure she thinks I’m a moron. Or an asshole who just won’t talk to her. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.
By the time Luke and Piper decided to call it a night, I was more than ready to head home to my nice, quiet house where I could relax and not stress over my every word. Harlow agreed that she was ready to head home as well. With their departure, I didn’t see the need to stick around. Besides, the night had gotten a lot duller without Harlow there. Not that I wanted to think about the reason why. Nope. Not going there.
So, now I’m home by 10pm on a Friday night, drinking a beer alone in my living room. Pathetic. I’m 29 years old and I might as well be 75, for all the excitement in my life. Hell, I know for a fact that Mr. Perkins just turned 77 and had at least two women fighting over him on Bingo night at the senior center last weekend. Clearly, age isn’t the factor here. It’s me. I’ve been so focused on Ella and getting my business off the ground that I haven’t taken the time to enjoy my life. Maybe Cole was right.
Not that it matters. I told him the truth when I said I don’t have time for things like dating and going out looking for someone. I will, eventually. But right now isn’t the time. I need to focus on work. Now that I have a couple of employees, it’s not just about me. If I fail, they lose their livelihoods. It’s a big responsibility. On that note, I pull out my laptop and pull up the local buy/sell/trade website. I need to find some decent tools for the second truck. Most of my guys have their own tools, but tools are expensive, and I don’t want to force them to buy everything themselves. Besides, if I’m going to have a legitimate contractor business, I need to have everything my employees need to do their jobs.
I scroll through the listings, seeing the same items that have been posted for the last 3 days. Sighing, I change my search tag and take a sip of my beer while the screen loads with more of the same items plus a few random things that weren’t in the first search. This is useless. I think I’m going to have to just give in and buy the stuff new. I know it will cost more that way, but at least I’ll get quality items. I refresh the screen one more time, on the off chance that something new will pop up, but I’m not holding out much hope. I suppose I could expand my search parameters if I’m willing to drive further to pick up the tools. But I don’t want to drive an hour each way only to find out the tools are no good. I’m about to give up and close my laptop when a new listing pops up on the screen. The headline grabs my attention immediately and I nearly spit my beer out.
“Cheating ex abandoned his tools. His loss is your gain!”
I can’t click on the listing fast enough. I scroll through the pictures first, noting that there’s a circular saw that looks brand-new and an impact drill that I know costs a pretty penny at the big box hardware store. There are other quality items too. There’s a leather tool belt that looks like it’s never been worn. I scroll back up to read the listing, my eyes growing wide.
“Cheating ex refuses to retrieve his tools. Everything is practically new as he couldn’t maintain a job for more than a week during our entire relationship. And yes, that lack of staying power trickled over into ALL other aspects of his life, if you know what I mean.
If you’re wondering if this is legit, I have the original purchase receipts for everything, since he used my credit card to buy them a week before he ghosted me. Since he couldn’t be bothered to take them with him, I’ve decided to try and recoup my losses. I can’t get back the three months I spent trying to domesticate a cheater, but I can try and get back some of my money. So, if you want high-quality tools at a decent price, please make me an offer.”
I read over the listing again and scroll through the images. I mentally catalogue all the items and what they would cost brand-new. Whoever this woman is, she spent a lot of money on these tools. And he’d cheated on her if what she says is true. Ouch. That’s rough.
I’ve never understood cheating. If you want to be with someone else, why string someone along? Be honest and let them go before it comes to that. This guy sounds like a piece of shit. She’s probably better off without him. And why am I reading into some stranger’s love life after reading 2 paragraphs on the internet?Because I’m alone on a Friday night?Pathetic. But I can’t let what might be a great deal slip through my fingers.
I click the button to message the seller, asking if I can meet her to look at the tools. With any luck, she’ll sell them to me at a great price and I’ll be one step closer to fully equipping the second truck with the tools it needs. I’m about to shut the laptop and go to bed when a notification pops up in the lower right corner. She responded already. That was fast.
“I can meet you tomorrow evening. Is 5pm okay?”
I can’t prevent the smile that spreads across my face. This might just be my lucky night after all. I message her back to confirm the time. We arrange to meet at a neutral, public location. Smart. No one wants to invite strangers to their home. She wants to meet across the street from the police station. I give her props for that. If I were a criminal intent on robbing her, I’d certainly think twice about doing it in front of the police station. By the time we finish making the plan, I’m tired and ready for bed. It's been a long day and I have a full day of work tomorrow.
Chapter 3
Linc
The next morning is chaotic. I don’t always work on Saturdays. In fact, I usually don’t. I prefer to spend my weekends with Ella since she’s out of school. But I’m close to a deadline on a job and we need everyone to pitch in and get it finished on time. I won’t ask my guys to do something I’m not willing to do myself. So, if they’re missing out on family time on a Saturday, so am I. Which means I need to take Ella to my parents’ house for the day. She loves spending time with her grandparents, but she hates it when I work on the weekends. And she’s not a morning person. Luckily, I’ve perfected this morning routine with her since she started school.
She needs to be woken up in stages if I want to avoid a meltdown. It’s an artform that I’m quite proud of mastering. I go into her room and sit on the edge of her bed.
“Time to wake up, sweet girl,” I say in a soft voice.
She makes a little grumbling sound and burrows into her pillow. Smiling, I stroke a hand over her hair.
“Sleeping Beauty,” I whisper. “Time to wake up.”
She mumbles something I can’t quite make out, but her eyes don’t open.
“What’s that? I didn’t hear you.”
“Cinderella,” she mumbles sleepily.
