Grant

The bell over the hardware store’s door rings a shrill tinkle when I enter. I pause at the threshold, glancing around the space, cataloging everything I can see.

Harold is behind the register, a ratty green apron stretched across his chest, spotted with miscellaneous stains. He smiles widely at me with crooked yellow teeth, I return it with a small smile of my own. The store is quiet except for the sound of a radio behind the counter.

“Grant! Can I help ya find anything?”

“Nah, I know what I need. Thanks anyway though.”

He nods but his attention is already back on the catalog spread out on the counter.

Dell’s Hardware is the closest hardware store to Ten’s Lake for twenty miles. Harold has fair prices but just barely, and he knows it. My boots thump on the old linoleum floor as I veer to the right side of the room. I need deck screws and they’ll be on the back wall.

I’ve only been back in Ashbrook for two weeks. Two glorious weeks, where I have been neither shot at, nor had to run for my life.

Retirement is already proving to be sweet.

Rolling my left shoulder, I get sidetracked from the nails by an electric sander. I don’t have one yet but I know by the end of all my renovations I’ll need one. Going over the choices that Harold has available, I grab the in-between option and some sand paper for it.

Currently, the first project I’m undertaking on my lake house is the deck. I’d had dreams of sitting on that deck and drinking a beer in the afternoon sun for years. It’s time to make that dream a reality.

Besides, the lumber was delivered yesterday and it’s just sitting in the yard, waiting to be cut up and used. I’m pretty stoked to start using my new circular saw.

At thirty-five, I’m seriously young to be retired. Ask my primary care physician on the other hand, and he would say I should have hung up my holster years ago. Two gunshot wounds and more broken bones than I care to count means my body is closer in relation to a fifty year olds.

I creak when I get up in the morning.

But that's the price I paid to live the life I did. I joined the Army as soon as I turned eighteen, needing to get out of Price, Indiana as fast as possible. Before I ended up a lifetime farm hand. The Army trained me, Special Forces hardened me, and when I was approached by the CIA, I went with it.

For the last seven years, I’d run covert ops for the CIA with a team of four other agents. Mostly, we did extraction but occasionally we nabbed intel. It was thrilling work and I loved knowing I was serving my country in a way not many others could.

But then Paris happened. Everything that could have gone wrong on that mission did. By the end of it, I had to account for a dead asset and a wounded teammate.

No, the fire had gone out of me for that lifestyle. I’m done.

With extenuating circumstances, my flawless military record, and a lot of high up officials owing me favors, I was granted early retirement. Not like I didn’t earn that early retirement with blood, sweat, and tears. Still, thirty five was crazy young to put the ‘ex’ in front of ‘soldier.’ Even so, I still had the energy to do something.

Queue renovation project.

My foster parents left me everything when they passed six years ago. Margaret and Joseph Sutherland adopted me late in their lives. They were already in their early fifties when I was ten years old, but they were kind people. When they died, they left me the farm in Price, their retirement funds, life insurance policies, and a decent inheritance. I’d loved them as much as an orphaned kid could, appreciating everything they did for me, and I know they’d be happy I was using the money on the lake house.

The lake house we vacationed at every year in the summer. A four bedroom, three bath monstrosity that was currently doing its damndest to fall apart.

I felt bad about stripping out the old, moth eaten curtains in the kitchen Mom loved so much, and trashing a lot of the old junk from the place but realistically I know I can’t keep it as a shrine to them and my childhood.

Nope, now it’s time to get down to business.

The deck first, then the downstairs bathroom. Once that’s done, I’ll redo the upstairs bath, update the half bath in the hallway, and then move on to dealing with all the god awful wood paneling in each room.

The appliances needed updating but I have to work on the plumbing before I even think about that. At least the inspector I had out last week said the electrical was all good. It had been updated almost ten years ago and was still in great shape.

Pulling myself from those thoughts, I turn the corner and catch a flash of bright blue. Before I know what’s going on, a body is slamming into my chest and the smell of jasmine invades my senses.

Something hard and sharp slams into my nose and I grunt, my hands coming up to grab the body that’s just thrown itself at me. There’s a hot, wet trickle flowing from my nostrils.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!”

My hands squeeze tightly around soft flesh and I jerk the woman forward until I think she’s stable. When she spins around her shoulder length, teal colored hair fans out in an arc around her.

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Wide gray eyes peer at me, her face frozen in horror as she looks at what I’m sure is a spectacular nose bleed.

Grabbing the hem of my shirt I bring it up and swipe over my nose and lips.

“Oh shit! I’m so, so sorry! I was trying to reach a box up there and I fell back… can I get you something? Should we get you to the hospital?”

I should probably answer her but I’m struck mute by her face. She’s fucking gorgeous.

Despite the unfortunate choice in hair color, she has a classically beautiful face. Her body is toned beneath tight black jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Wide hips flare and then tuck in to a waist that isn’t slim or dainty but perfectly proportionate to the pert breasts stacked above it.

She’s pale, with a peachy tint to her skin, dark black eyebrows dramatically swooped over those worried, almond shaped eyes.

“No, I’m alright. Damn, you have a sharp elbow.”

She winces and bites her lower lip. A pink, puffy lip that I’m suddenly fascinated with.

“I can go find you some tissues or something? Maybe…tilt your head back? Is it still bleeding?”

“No, it’s done now I think. I’m pretty sturdy, I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes narrow for just a second before she looks me over from head to toe.

Instinctually, I straighten up to my full height and flex my stomach. Not like she might care about my abs or anything but I have them… might as well make sure she’s aware of that. My shirt is still pulled up in my hand as I try and swipe any remaining blood off my face. I might put a little extra flex into my arms and shoulders as I move.

I can already feel my nasal passages starting to swell up. I’m going to be talking like a dip shit for the rest of the day now.

“Okay, well I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“Attack me with your elbow?”

“–fall back on you.” Those gray eyes narrow even more. Then her spine goes stiff and she sucks on her front teeth before turning and grabbing the box that’s fallen on the floor. It’s a box of two inch deck screws. Huh.

I glance at the wall of shelves and realize she’s got the last one in her hand.

“That’s actually what I was looking for.”

I reach forward for the box in her hand but she pulls it back toward her hip.

“Oh no, these babies are mine. I climbed all the way up there to get them.”

She points a delicate finger up at the top shelf. I tear my eyes from her slender hand to glance up. It is a tall fucking shelf. She’s maybe five three and that’s with those boots on. She'd had to be up pretty high to reach the top shelf. No wonder it felt like she was dive bombing my face.

“So you assault me and then take the last box of screws? How’s that fair?”

Her head tilts just before her empty hand props itself on her hip.

“I grabbed the box before our unfortunate encounter. If you had utilized a little situational awareness and watched where you were going then I would have just fallen back off the shelf and landed on my feet. So really, you’re kind of the one at fault here.”

“But you still gave me a nose bleed and look, it’s swelling. I can feel it.” I touch the bridge of my nose gently.

She wavers for just a second but then rolls her eyes.

“You should ice that soon.”

Then she turns and walks toward the front of the store.

“Whoa, hey hold up, uh… what’s your name?”

She glances over her shoulder at me, her crazy colored hair fanning out again around her face.

“Chloe.”

“Chloe. Cute name.”

I swear she growls. A smile tugging at my own lips, I pull my shirt back down and enjoy the view of her from behind.

Damn.

“I’m Grant.”

When there’s no response to that, I plow on. “Well, how about we share? I’ll pay for half and we can split the box. There’s like two hundred of those screws in there.”

“Nope. I need them all. I’m fixing my porch steps and railing.”

“You need two hundred deck screws to fix your porch steps and railing? How many steps go up to your porch?”

“Look, I’m sorry they don’t have another box but that’s not my fault. Maybe get Harold to order you some more. They get deliveries in on Tuesdays.”

Then she’s plonking the box down in front of Harold who’s tuned into the end of the conversation.

“Ya’ll need me to order somethin’?” he drawls as he writes down the price of the screws on a receipt pad.

“More two inch deck screws,” Chloe replies as she pulls a slim wallet from the back pocket of her jeans. She pulls out enough cash to pay for the screws and declines a bag to put them in.

He nods and hands her her change. Chloe doesn’t even look back when she leaves, the bell over the store ringing over the sound of the radio, calling over her shoulder, “You should ice that!”

I rub my hand over my stubble, still staring at the closed door.

“Hey, Harold. What do you know about Chloe?”

“Chloe?”

I turn to face him, nodding and studying him. Harold is a terrible gossip. Generally speaking, you don’t have to even ask him about something before he’s offering up the information.

“Got here oh, ‘bout four or five years ago. Bought one of the lake houses and she’s been fixin’ it up ever since. Quiet. Keeps to herself. Nice girl, does something with fashion I think. She travels a lot, at least that’s what Meridith at the salon says. Always jet settin’ to far off places.”

“She married? Got a boyfriend?”

Harold’s eyes glint and I know I’ve just given him enough ammunition to keep him busy for days.

“Don’t believe so, unless she got a man out of town. Never seen her with anyone here in Ashbrook, though. Why? You interested?”

I smile at Harold, “You have eyes, Harold, who wouldn’t be interested?”

He laughs at that, shaking his head. Then his smile fades and he looks at me with a strange expression.

“You be careful with Chloe, Grant. When she got here, she was… well, somethin’ hurt that girl. She’s always been quiet but when she first got here, a mouse fart could make her jump a mile high. Don’t know what her past is and I know she can be a bit standoffish– but she’s… delicate. Just be careful, yeah?”

The easy grin slips off my face and I turn back to look at the closed door again. A swelling emotion spreads through my chest.

Chloe just got even more interesting.