“Nice to meet you,” I said, hoping to end the conversation quickly. “You can let Annika know if you need anything for the house.”
“Oh, thanks. She’s your sister, right? She’s so nice. She called me this morning to explain – well, you know – you.”
I furrowed my brow even deeper. “She explained me?”
Audrey smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Just so you know, we’re fine. About last night, I mean. It’s no big deal.”
“Did you get hurt?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“No, not really. I might have a bruise or two.” She twisted one arm to examine her elbow. “But I’m fine. That’s sweet of you to ask.”
It was not sweet of me. I was not a sweet guy. Instead of replying, I just grunted.
Her dog—Max, apparently—dropped a ball at her feet. I hadn’t seen him go get it, but I hadn’t really been paying attention to him.
Without missing a beat, she picked it up and tossed it toward her house. “What are you doing over there? Remodeling?”
I glanced at the other house. “Yeah. Just getting started.”
“I was wondering about the big dumpster. This thing is huge.”
Max came back and dropped the ball. She picked it up and threw it.
“It’s a gut job,” I said. “Outdated everything.”
“Did you remodel the house I’m in?”
“Yeah. It’s what we do.”
“You, meaning you and your sister?”
“She works for us, but I partner with my dad.”
“Do you keep them all as rentals when you’re done remodeling?”
I picked up another chunk of flooring and tossed it in the dumpster. “Why are you asking so many questions?”
“I’m just curious.”
She had brown eyes but despite their dark color, they were bright, shining with pleasant interest.
It was frustratingly endearing.
“Depends on the property.”
I’d meant for that to be the entirety of my answer but she kept looking at me with cheerful expectancy while she threw the ball for her dog again. It was like she was drawing me into a conversation against my will.
“We’ve flipped a few over the years but the market has been slowing down so it’s generally better for us to keep them and rent them out.”
“Is it frustrating?”
“Is what frustrating?”
She shrugged. “Being a landlord. You have to deal with tenants all the time, fix broken stuff, chase them down for late payments, that sort of thing.”
“Annika deals with the tenants.”
“Right, because you’re bad with people.”
“Is that what she said?”
“Something like that.” There was that cheerful smile again. Was she teasing me? “You did a great job on the house next door. It’s really nice.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry, I should quit bugging you. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do.” She picked up the ball but kept it tucked against her chest while Max did a circle around her. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Flashing me another big smile, she turned and walked back next door. Her overly excited dog was as bubbly as she was. I was surprised he didn’t do cartwheels around her.
It took me a second to realize I was watching her as she left. I shook my head to clear it and went back to tossing old particle board into the dumpster.
There. That was over with. We had a tenant in the two-bedroom and Annika had smoothed things over after my screw up last night. I didn’t need to worry about her.
Or think about her in those shorts.
But I did think about her in those shorts. I got back to work, ripping out the rest of the kitchen floor, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about Audrey Young and her annoyingly beautiful smile.
CHAPTER 9
Audrey
The Timberbeast Tavern looked exactly how I’d pictured it when Sandra had told me where to meet her. She’d invited me out for a drink after work and this place was everything I’d expected. Vintage logging photos, old business signs, and rusty timber equipment adorned the walls, and the guy behind the bar had a thick beard, buffalo plaid shirt, and big hairy arms, making him look more like a lumberjack than a bartender.
In fact, he looked a lot like the cartoon lumberjack on the Timberbeast sign.
I’d gone home after work to take care of Max, grab some dinner, and change clothes. I’d opted for a short-sleeved shirt and jeans with a pair of sandals. It was getting warmer during the day but still cooling down at night—typical mountain weather in June. I hoped my feet wouldn’t get too cold, but I’d painted my toenails the cutest shade of pink and I wanted the chance to show them off.
Or at least enjoy them myself, since I doubted anyone in a dimly lit small-town tavern was going to notice my toes.
Sandra waved to me from her table. She’d also changed since work, into a t-shirt and casual pants. Her silvery-gray pixie cut was adorable as always.
“I’m glad you made it,” she said as I took a seat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hang out with an old lady, so thanks for indulging me.”
“You’re hardly an old lady.”
“I’m getting awfully close to sixty. That number sounds significant.”
“It’s a milestone but that doesn’t mean you’re an old lady. You’ve just leveled up.”
“See, this is why I like you. You know how to put a positive spin on things.” She turned toward the bar and raised her voice. “Hey, Rocco. What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here? Flash her boobs?”
I covered my mouth and laughed behind my hand. Rocco, the lumberjack bartender, crossed his arms and raised his bushy eyebrows as if to say, go ahead, I’m waiting.
Sandra laughed. “Leave it to Rocco to call my bluff. I’ll go get us drinks. What do you want?”
My first thought was a lemon drop, but I was trying to cut down on sugar. And this didn’t seem like a lemon drop sort of place. “What are you having?”
“Vodka soda. I used to be a margarita girl, but I can’t do tequila anymore. And Rocco makes terrible margaritas.”
“I heard that,” Rocco grumbled.
Sandra grinned, pretending to ignore him.
“I’ll have the same. But let me get them. I want to celebrate not being unemployed and having the funds to treat a friend to a drink.”
“I won’t argue with that. Thanks.”
I went to the bar. Rocco was busy with a customer, but another bartender came out from the back. He was younger than Rocco, with shaggy dark hair and no beard. He looked vaguely familiar, but a lot of people around here did. Plus I wasn’t great with faces—or names—unless I knew someone well.
Or if it was Josiah Haven, apparently.
The bartender eyed me with a vaguely annoyed expression. “What can I get you?”
“Two vodka sodas. One with lemon, if you have it.”
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded.
Okay, so not the chattiest guy.
I waited while he made our drinks. When he finished, he slid them across the bar, along with the check.
“Do you want to start a tab?” he asked.
“Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”
He nodded, still looking slightly irritated. Maybe he didn’t like his job. I picked up the drinks and took them to our table.
“So how are things going?” Sandra asked. “Are you getting settled in?”
“Yeah, I think so. My house is great. Super cozy. I still feel like I’m flying blind at work but Lou doesn’t seem to dislike me too intensely, so I have that going for me.”
“He likes you fine.”
“I hope so. The last thing I need is to get laid off again.”
“Lou is pretty loyal. He won’t get rid of you unless there’s a good reason. Or if the paper finally shuts down.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but do you think that’s possible?”
She shrugged. “I imagine Lou will keep it open as long as he can. That paper is all he knows. His wife has been trying to get him to retire for years but he’ll probably croak in his office when he’s ninety. But small-town newspapers are dinosaurs. The meteor hit, the sunlight’s been blocked, and it’s only a matter of time before the last of them die off.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“It is. But time marches on.”