Chapter 3

chapter

three

Audrey

A little over two months ago…

I'm so done with trying to date.

Men are dumb and let's face it, none of them are him. None of them scowl at me quite like he does. No, they try to flirt and say stupid things they think will make me spread my legs for them. But I'm just not interested.

Especially in the tool I met tonight for drinks. His name is Braden—or something equally douchey. He's not from Saddle Creek, just works at one of the ranches here. In his spare time, he likes to taxidermy roadkill.

I wish I was kidding.

He told the entire story about finding a raccoon in nearly perfect condition—his words, not mine—and he stuffed him real good. Yep, he said all of those words directly to my boobs.

He could have at least glanced up at my face once to pretend he wasn't a total perv. But nope.

Like I said, total perv.

And not in a good way. And, yes, there is a good way to be pervy. When it's the right guy.

Meanwhile, I wish Jared would talk to my boobs. I wish he'd motorboat them. Ugh, I'm pathetic. Who falls in love with their boss?

Especially a big, grumpy, growly boss, who never smiles and grumbles orders?

Jared's like one of those dogs that bark loudly, but then roll over for belly rubs. Not that Jared has ever rolled over and asked me to rub anything. I mean I would. No questions asked.

What I'm trying to say here is that his facade is all frowns and glares, but he's got a heart of gold, that one. I've seen it so many times over the last few years that I've worked in his shop.

Like the time that he replaced all of the tires on my old Honda sedan. He acted like he'd just found the tires in his back yard, but I knew better. He's generous to a fault. But it's not me. I'm not special.

He's that guy that helps old ladies carry their groceries into their houses. The guy who offers to repair the old gazebo in the town square, then refuses any payment other than banana-nut muffins from Gladys Murphy. He's the guy who secretly mows people's lawns when they're sick. Just an all-around good guy. A piping hot cinnamon roll ready to burn your mouth, but with an ooey-gooey center.

I blow out a breath as I cross the street, then head to the alleyway behind Bolts. That's the name of Jared's store and the place I've called a home away from home for the last three years. Since he begrudgingly hired me and I became his right hand…er, man.

Then proceeded to fall irrevocably in love with the broody giant. I didn't mean for it to happen, but as my mama always says, you can't help it when you find your narwhal.

Okay, that probably doesn't make any sense to anyone outside of my own family. It's something my parents came up with. When they met and fell in love, lots of couples were starting to meet via online dating. There was a lot chatter about finding the illusive unicorn—that one man or woman who just had it all.

My dad, though, said that all the searching for the rare unicorn was just setting yourself up for failure. So instead, he looked for his narwhal. Still mythical, still majestic, still just as fantastical, but also completely real and attainable. You just might have to work a little to make it happen.

Recently my big brother found his narwhal. I haven't met her in person yet, but they're moving here after the first of the year. We've video chatted and Andrew is so in love with her, it just oozes out of his skin. It's adorable. Maxine is hilariously dry and snarky, just what my goofy brother needs.

The lights are out in the shop. I use my key to let myself in. I'm too restless to try to go home and go to bed. Besides, if I'm alone, I'd rather be here where I can get some work done. We've got inventory coming in for the holidays over the next couple of months and I noticed the other day that our supply shelves are all mixed up and out of order.

So, I can work on that.

A wall of hot air meets me as I enter the darkened back room of the hardware store. Jared has the system programed so it doesn't continue to blast cold air conditioning when no one is here.

Despite the fact that it's early October, this is Texas, and well, it still feels like summer here. And I can't change the programming because then Jared will know I'm here. He gets weird about me being here when I'm alone.

I already feel like I'm sweating so I slip off my shoes and then take off my blue jean miniskirt and my bright raspberry peasant blouse. Normally I don't dress up so much, but I was trying to put myself out there, as my mama says I need to do.

She tells me, "Darlin, I think you're pretty as a picture with your pigtails and your overalls. But men are like fish, they need something shiny to catch their attention."

So I put a necklace on, with a sparkling pendant that hung just at the entrance to my cleavage. Obviously the reason why Brandon—no, that's not right, Brenton?—well, whatever his name was, it's obvious that pendant kept his eyes locked on my girls.

I make my way, barefoot, into the main room of the floor to ceiling shelving wearing nothing but my underwear. I do tend to dress very bland. I favor jeans and overalls and t-shirts. I have a sizable collection of low top Chucks, which I think go with everything, in practically every color. I'm a no frills kind of girl. Except when it comes to my bras and panties.

I like soft, luxurious fabric that whispers across my skin. I put on my favorite playlist on my phone and climb the ladder to get to the top shelf. I know that particular shelf is the worst.

I laugh when one of my favorite Christmas songs starts to play. It's October, not at all too early to start getting into the holiday spirit.