If only he had that ability when Jameson came to him at eighteen, damn near in tears because his newest, most-prized possession wasn’t just broken, it was lost. Gone for good.
Back then, he cupped Jameson’s shoulder and said, “I wish I could fix this for you, son, but I can’t. Now, I know you’re all set to leave town and start your life, but if you take a moment to talk it out with her, you might realize . . . when the axle is solid, the car still runs, even with a few dents.”
Jameson wasn’t talking shit out with her.
She did what she did, and tried to pay him off to clear her conscious. That was no dent. That was a sledgehammer.
“He taught me some repair tricks too,” Cade said fondly, pausing his inventory to watch him build the new frame. “Learned how to fix a ten-dollar toaster even though it took twenty dollars’ worth of parts.”
Jameson smiled. “Sounds about right. He’d throw good money after bad if it meant keeping something out of a landfill. I once spent an entire Saturday fixing the motor on a hand mixer he bought at a garage sale for fifty cents.”
At fourteen, he wanted to be on the docks fishing with his friends and scoping out girls in bikini tops, not in his old man’s store, fixing junk. At the time, Jameson didn’t appreciate the skills Jonah was teaching him.
Now, he did.
And he planned to sell those memories—the hardware store—to the highest bidder even if it was for the current equivalent of fifty cents.
Two-thirds of the hardware store was inventoried, and by the end of the day Monday, it would be complete. Just in time for Jameson to uphold his promise of a week’s worth of work for Cade, and to leave town as he told Nico, hoping to see the white sand beaches of Tampa by Wednesday.
So, why then was he taking precious time today to repair her broken keepsake?
Because ten years ago, Chloe and Jameson had been driving down the highway of life, nothing but smooth road and clear skies ahead.
And then bam.
T-boned on their blind side by inexperienced oversight and Genevieve Moreau.
Leaning back against the counter, he stuck his hands in his pockets and waited for the glue to set, watching a steady stream of traffic on Main Street.
They had customers most of the day with Jameson saying, “Sorry, we’re closed,” to patrons he knew damn well had popped in earlier in the week and were fully aware the store wasn’t open. After a while, he’d stopped bothering.
Instead, he chatted minimally, rang them up quickly, and shuffled them out the door, ignoring Cade when afterward he proudly announced the updated sales tally.
“What’d you wanna be when you were a kid, boss?” Popping the top on a can of energy drink, Cade pulled out the stool tucked under the worktable, taking a break.
“Easy. A Navy SEAL.”
Impressed, he nodded. “Done deal, then. What else did you wanna be?”
What else?
Something he’d never be now, thanks to a hot piece of ass named Chloe Morgan.
“Anything involving water and being in it,” he said instead, looking around the hardware store. “Definitely not a storekeeper.”
Cade’s gaze followed the same path Jameson’s did. “I like it here.”
“Yeah? What’d you wanna be when you were a kid? You know, like yesterday when you woke up, what’d you wanna be?”
“Ha! You jealous of this baby face, boss?” Cade joked, not offended. “Because I don’t think you have anything to worry about when it comes to women. We’ve suddenly had a run on single ladies shopping for screwdrivers, if you know what I mean.”
Jameson groaned, realizing that yes, they had a parade of vapid former prom queens in this week. Not their usual demographic.
“I’ve got all I can handle at home.”
And he wasn’t referring to his condo in Florida. He was thinking of Maine Lane with her in it. Because despite the past, Chloe and home would always be one and the same.
“You and that nasty lady’s daughter?” Cade nodded in approval, not needing confirmation. “Nice. She’s pretty.”
Describing Chloe as pretty was the equivalent of calling the Sistine Chapel pretty. Stunning, more like. Maddening, for sure. Addicting, he could testify.
One hit—meaning that kiss last night—and he was hooked again. Strung out on Chloe cocaine.
“I ran into her yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Your frenemy. Chloe.” He pointed at the monogrammed doily on the table. “She was in the diner when Erin and I stopped in for breakfast. I might be overstepping, but she was with another dude, man. They both looked serious, so it could’ve been a business meeting.”
Probably Wyatt, what’s his name. Interesting, considering she stuck her tongue down his throat last night.
“It makes no difference to me who she eats a meal with.” Checking his watch, he went back to the frame. Pulled the clamps off, ran the pad of his thumb over the seam, then tested the stability.
But he doubted that fucker would spring for a lobster roll.
“Well, she’s sweet on you. Asking me all sorts of questions about you but in a casual, no big deal way. She’s crushing hard, boss.”
Okay, even more interesting.
“She knows you work here?”
“Um, yeah,” he said as if Jameson was daft. “She used to come in all the time and hang out with Jonah. Bring us treats. Cookies, cakes, and the like.”
“How long ago did that happen?”
“Ever since I started here. They were really good friends.”
They were?
Because his father never brought her up. Knew their break-up was a sore spot, so the topic of Chloe was never discussed.
“What’d she ask you about?” And damn it, why did he even care? “At the diner yesterday.”
“Oh, you know. The usual. How it was going over here, what you planned to do with the store, when you might be leaving. Things of that nature. It was weird, though.”
“What was weird?”
“We had the baby with us, and she didn’t acknowledge her. I get it. Not everybody likes kids, but Bailey’s so cute most people fall all over her. At least, comment about her. Chloe wouldn’t look at her.”
Fitting the sheet glass into the notch of the frame, Jameson didn’t provide an opinion on Chloe’s tolerance for kids. But as he focused on the project in front of him, his blood churned hot.
“If you’re intentionally stringing her along, it’s working. She has a big ol’ hook in her bottom lip for you.” He downed the last of his energy drink then added, “The dude with her? He didn’t look happy at the thought of you staying in town for good.”
Jameson’s gaze flew up. “I’m not staying. Did you tell her I was staying?”
“No.” He seemed genuinely puzzled. “But why not?”
Cade hadn’t grown up with a lightning desire to explore the world. Then save it. Live on the razor’s edge while doing so.
“I’m not a storekeeper,” he repeated, but it felt like a lie.
He’d been keeping this store for nearly a week now, and each day felt a little less suffocating. A little more comfortable. Felt something else too, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it any more than Chloe wanted to look at that baby.