Page 44 of Building What's Meant to Be

The new house is a little more than halfway done. For now, four walls, a roof, and bathroom plumbing are in minus the shower. That’s good enough for me. It smells like freshly cut pine and damp drywall joint compound. I love it...and I hope Tinsley loves Butterbury as much as I do.

For now, I feel like I made the right choice not showing her my own version of a castle. I think she needs to find the middle ground for herself. Will it be in a trailer in the middle of the woods? I’ll find out in the next thirty days.

As I drift toward sleep, my thoughts linger on how it felt like showing Tinsley around Butterbury and bringing her here was the same amount of nerve-wracking as it would be to introduce her to my parents. No, that’ll be easier.

From there, I mentally cruise to how I was acting a little off when we got to my car. The Maybach is slightly ostentatious, but it’s part of my bachelor-in-finance persona. Plus it goes fast. Though my motorcycle is even more fun. Can’t deny I enjoy putting down the pedal on these empty roads.

However, I’m just as happy driving Judy—that’s the pickup truck behind Toby. The name is also with thanks to Bess. I don’t want Tinsley to think I’m a rich, flashy guy. I’ll heed Taylor’s warning to an extent. I’d like her to like me for me and not anything I own.

Good thing I’m lying down because that last thought slams me like a runaway tractor tire—happened to Bubba’s brother who lived to tell the tale.

Hold up. I want Tinsley to like me?

Moving on. It’s hard not to notice her phone remains silent even though she goes on it frequently. No one has called to see how she’s doing. I checked her social media accounts—for work, I swear. She’s quite a presence, yet she’s here. Why was she passing Butterbury where the only person she knows is Taylor? I don’t get homewrecker vibes unless she’s playing some kind of twisted long game. No, I sense she’s been rejected. Turned away by family and friends.

Is she alone?

I must fall asleep before I answer the question because the next thing I know, my phone beeps repeatedly and it’s not the alarm setting.

Bleary-eyed, I glance at the screen. Tinsley.

I rocket out of bed, tug on my pants from yesterday, grab my sidearm, and am on the four-wheeler in less than sixty seconds.

Possibilities rev in my mind as I focus on the uneven terrain in the dark. It never occurred to me that one of Puma’s fans or a troll might try to hassle or harm her.

Toby is dark as I approach. The four-wheeler’s lights shine on the white metal exterior. I’d like to have made a quiet approach, and imagine I scared off whoever was here, but they couldn’t have gone far.

Toby’s door flies open. “Stealth. I said to be stealthy. Didn’t you check your phone?”

My concern turns into consternation. “No, I didn’t because I wasn’t about to waste a second getting down here. It’s four am. It’s not like I thought you were calling for room service. I figured it was an emergency.”

Previously puffed up, she deflates a little and her arms fold in front of her chest. “If you’d read the message, you’d have known that I heard something scratching around out here.”

“Like a critter?” I check around with my flashlight but don’t see any signs of an animal—human or four-legged.

“I don’t know.” Panic fills her voice.

“Well, it’s long gone now.”

“But it’ll be back. Next time, please try to be quiet. Could’ve been a Sasquatch,” she says in a whisper.

With a tired chuckle, I shake my head. As I get back on the four-wheeler, I have to admit I like the idea that there might be a next time. Not because I want her to be afraid or to be woken from a dead sleep. Rather, that she’ll be sticking around for a while.

Morning comes too soon. I head down to the trailer to shower. I find Tinsley asleep, wearing blue cotton pajama shorts and a coordinating camisole. Last night, fired up with adrenaline, I didn’t even notice. I try to be quiet as I go to the tiny bathroom, but she sits up, eyes fuzzy and with a pillow crease on her face. There goes the rumble in my chest. Hopefully, she can’t hear it.

In a word, she’s adorable. Vulnerable, but not in a way that would make someone take advantage of her. Rather, like without makeup and all the sparkle and polish, she’s a regular person. A beautiful one at that.

Maybe even more so without all the fuss.

“I, uh,” I gesture over my shoulder and my arm feels floaty, disjointed like it belongs to someone else. “Shower,” I manage to mutter.

While the water cascades over my muscles, I can’t stop thinking about the woman at the other end of the trailer. I didn’t know the kind of woman I was looking for—classic, humble, honest, funny, silly, smart...all of it. More? I don’t know, but I think I found her in the most unlikely of places, but will I be able to make her mine?

Chapter Eleven

TINSLEY

Yet again, I wake up disoriented. For the length of a yawn, I’m not quite sure where I am or how I got here. But then I glimpse fresh-out-of-the-shower-Aiden Fuller.

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