Page 1 of Ten Hammers

Chapter 1

Winnie

The superpower of any great reality show producer is getting the cast to cry, but Goldie hasn’t even asked me a single question yet, and my eyes are leaky faucets. I dab at them discreetly; the last thing I want is for one of the Hammer brothers to notice and tease me for being such a marshmallow. I have fought tooth and nail to convince the entire world–especially them–that I’m tough.

“Do you need a minute?” Goldie studies me over the top of her clipboard. She isn’t just any producer, she’s my close friend. She understands how hard today is for me.

Behind her, I can see the brothers as they work around the job site, putting the finishing touches on the kitchen cabinets before install time. It’s impossible not to stare, and hard not to drool, when each and every one of my favorite guys is chiseled like the statue of a god, and their bare chests glisten with sweat from the morning sun.

“I’m fine,” I lie, squeezing my thighs together. It’s like she’s made sure the camera is positioned in a way to purposely expose me and every single one of my feelings for the guys, just in time for my last confessional. “Let’s get this over with.”

I don’t want to get this over with.

Our last ever reno, I mean. The confessional—that I can happily do without.

“Oh, Win,” Goldie says with a sympathetic sigh. “The final episodes are always hard. Everyone gets emotional.”

I snort-sob-laugh. “Really? Have any of the guys ugly cried?”

Goldie snort-sobs-laughs back at me. “The Hammer brothers don’t ugly anything.” She pauses, and drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But at least one of them has openly wept.”

I raise my eyebrows, hoping she’ll elaborate.

This is a story I need to hear. I’ve known Jack, Mason, Max, Theo, Leo, Gunnar, Gavin, Axel, Diesel, and Cruz Hammer for as long as I can remember. Never have I seen any of them shed a tear, except for Gavin when he fell from the old apple tree and broke his collarbone at age six. And even that didn’t elicit more than a whimper. But to openly WEEP? It makes me wonder–will at least one of the Hammer brothers miss our show, and me, as much as I’ll miss them?

Impossible.

“Sooooo…” Goldie prompts. “You’re Winnie Wainwright, co-star of the hottest home renovation show on television. 1 Girl, 10 Hammers was not only your brainchild, it’s been your entire life for eight years. Now that it’s ending, what’s up next for you?”

I don’t know what’s next, but one thing is certain: I won’t see the guys on a daily basis and that thought makes me feel like my soul is being ripped away. The truth is, the show is a hit, even after so many seasons. The network would’ve kept us going for eight more. But from the get-go we all agreed that if one of us wanted out, all of us were out. And we’ve come to that point.

“... I have no idea what comes next,” I admit.

Goldie gets this twinkle in her eye I know all too well. She’s about to say something provocative and I brace myself.

“You could always be the next Bachelorette,” she says. “I’ve heard they’re interested in having you on as the first plus-sized leading lady in the history of the franchise. That’d be such an inspiration to girls that look like us.”

There’s sarcasm in her last sentence and she rolls her eyes.

I fake gagging. “Yeah, right.”

I feel sorry for whoever the first plus-sized Bachelorette will be, but it won’t be me. I do have one piece of advice for her: Don’t read the comments sections, girl. If I had a nickel for every time a stranger made a negative remark about some aspect of my appearance, I would be the world’s richest woman.

Besides, I don’t need to go on a dating show to find out it’s possible to fall in love with two or three or four people at the same time. I myself am currently madly in love with ten men.

“Something to think about,” Goldie says. “You’d still get to travel, be surrounded by hot guys. You might have fun. You have come a looooong way from the girl that was dead set against appearing on-camera, you have to admit.”

She isn’t wrong – though the show was my idea, I never wanted to be on TV myself. The Hammer brothers had to drag me along, initially. They are all built to be in front of the camera, as if each brother was hand-crafted to be as swoon worthy as the after reveals of the houses we renovate.

“So, one more time. What is next for you, Winnie–” Goldie begins, but she’s interrupted by Jack Hammer, the oldest at 33, calling out in his gruff tone as he approaches us.

“What’s next for Winnie is that she gets her cute ass out here and does some damn work.”

Jack is smiling at me and it’s impossible not to smile back. His smile isn’t just something I see. It’s something I feel.

“Cut, cut,” Goldie says with a groan.

I give her a small shrug. “Can we pick this up later?”

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