I huffed, finally annoyed enough with myself to make my way up her drive. When I reached the top of her stairs, knuckles ready to rap on the open door frame, I stopped short.
Wren stood in her kitchen, hands on her hips, hair tied up, just staring at her cabinets. She was dressed in overalls, the hem of the shorts rolled up, the denim ripped for fashion rather than from actually working in them. She left one strap of them unhooked, revealing the simple white tank top she wore underneath, and she had a screwdriver in one hand.
I didn’t know whether to be scared or impressed.
I knocked twice, jolting her from her daze. She fumbled a bit when she saw me, but a smile spread slow and wide on her lips. She wore a full face of makeup, complete with bright red lipstick, and her long lashes brushed her cheeks as she looked up at me.
“Hi,” she squeaked, dropping the screwdriver to the counter and reaching up for her hair like she wanted to fix it but settled for brushing a few fallen pieces behind her ears instead. “Uh, it’s nice to see you again. Glad I’m actually wearing clothes this time.” She chuckled.
“Wanted to make sure your foot’s okay,” I said, not returning her laugh, because apparently that function was broken.
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and I dropped my eyes to her foot, which was still bandaged.
“Oh, that,” she said, waving me off. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
I met her eyes again, and the silence stretched between us. So I nodded and turned to leave.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
I paused, cocking one brow in response in the door frame.
She’d picked up the screwdriver again and wrung her hands around it, nodding to the cabinet she’d been staring at when I walked in. “The hinge on that door broke the other day, and I just fixed it, only it’s the first time I’ve fixed anything in my entire life and, well, I’ve heard this is kind of your thing. Would you mind just taking a look at it to make sure I didn’t completely screw it up?”
I glanced at the cabinet she was referring to, knowing it was the right one only by the two different-colored hinges. The top one was gold and worn, where the bottom one was silver and shiny, like it had just been purchased. My brow rose farther. “How’d you fix it?”
“Bought a hinge repair kit over at the hardware store in Gold Bar and watched a YouTube video.”
My eyes must have given away my concern, because she grinned and offered a small shrug.
“What? It’s how I learned how to make a fire in that thing, too.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder at the wood-burning stove behind her.
My eyes stayed there for a moment before finding hers again, and then I crossed the kitchen and opened the cabinet, inspecting it.
Surprisingly, the bottom hinge held strong. I jiggled the door, opening and closing it, pulling on the handle and attempting to break it free. It was sturdy, and I was impressed. I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest before turning to face her again.
“Looks okay to me.”
“Really?” She bounced with the question, breezing past me to inspect the door herself. “I really did it?”
“You really did it.”
Her grin widened and she opened and closed the cabinet over and over while I stood behind her. “I am a bad ass.”
She kept on, humming to herself as she admired her handiwork, but my eyes were skating the rest of her cabin. The board on the back porch was still broken, but there were bags from the hardware store leaning against the back door, along with wood panels that were pretty close to the deep red shade of the one that had broken. The latch on her stove was broken, too, which meant she was probably burning through more firewood than she needed to.
At that thought, I glanced outside at the pile of firewood on the side of the garage. It was low, and when I thought of her slight frame trying to chop more from the larger pieces Abdiel stored under the back porch, I almost laughed.
More hardware bags still littered the counter, holding a plethora of tools, light bulbs, rope, and wires. I had no idea what other projects she had planned, but the fact that she was watching YouTube videos to figure out what to do made me cringe.
She glanced back over her shoulder at me, goofy grin still in place, but I was still taking in the state of the cabin. “I can help you fix this place up, if you want.”
“Oh.” She spun, propping a hip against the counter and folding her arms over her middle. “No, no it’s okay. Look at me, I’m Mrs. Fix-It now. I think I can do it.”
Wren smiled, bright white teeth framed by full red lips. I chose that exact moment to realize the white tank top she wore was very tight, and I had no idea what the hell I was doing here.
So, I left.
“Okay. Be careful on that foot.”
And before I could find another reason to stay, I was out of her cabin, down the porch stairs, and walking down the drive. I rounded it at the end to make my way back to my cabin, shaking my head the entire way. She didn’t need my help, and I was stupid to even offer it in the first place. What did I expect? I didn’t know anything about her, and I knew everything about me.
So she was attractive. I’d seen plenty of attractive women in my life, both before and after Dani’s death. It didn’t change the fact that everything good inside me had died along with my cousin more than six years ago.
I had nothing to give Wren, but still I was stuck.
Because no two days had been the same since I met her.
My Aunt Rose was born and raised in Gold Bar. She lived in the same cabin that my grandparents did, even after they passed, even after my mom left and didn’t take me with her. But after Dani died, Aunt Rose left Gold Bar for the first time in her life, and she hadn’t been back since.
She would never say it, but she blamed me for Dani’s death, too. It didn’t stop her from checking in on me every now and then, short phone calls with a flat voice that served no other purpose other than to confirm I still had a pulse. Later that day when I was at old man Ron’s, she called me and it was over in three minutes.
Ron didn’t say anything when I returned to the garage, tossed my old flip phone into my toolbox, and went right back to cleaning the battery terminals.
A lot of people misunderstood Ron, saying he was an old, grumpy man with a bad attitude. But I knew better. Ron was smart, and unlike so many people who talked but never said anything of merit, every word that left his mouth had a purpose. He was the closest thing I’d ever had to a father, and since his wife and unborn child had been killed in a car accident while he was serving in his third tour, I was the closest thing he’d ever had to a son. We never talked about that, about what the other meant to us, but we both knew.
“Almost seven years,” he said from under the truck. My hand froze over the battery for a split second, but then autopilot kicked back on, and I nodded.
“Yep.”
Ron crawled out, wincing a little as he used the bumper to help him stand. “You going to see her?”
My eyes didn’t leave my hands, but I nodded again.
He pulled the old rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands on it, watching me work for a minute before tucking it back in place. “Let me know if you want any company.”
Ron didn’t wait for me to respond, just walked inside the house and gave me unspoken permission to quit for the day. And so I did, but my head was heavy with thoughts of Dani as I walked back to my cabin, and I veered off toward Momma Von’s without making the conscience choice to do so.