Page 55 of Tough Nut to Crack

"Was hoping you had enough to feed a hungry crew," I say as I step up to the counter and drop my eyes to the display, my mouth watering at the selection.

"I can make that happen," Adalynn assures me. "Want me to put together a mix?"

"That'd be great," I say, knowing the cupcakes are going to be amazing but also very aware that they won't even come close to the breakfast bake that Riley made and shared with me not long ago.

Those thoughts make me think of dinner and have me wondering if the deal we made about her cooking and me paying for the groceries will still be a thing after the weird ass day we had yesterday. That makes me feel like an expectant asshole, which in turn frustrates the hell out of me because I can't recall any other time in my life when I let a woman take over so much space in my head.

"Mac?"

"Huh?" I say, bringing my eyes up to Adalyn. I can tell by the frown creasing her forehead that I didn't hear her call my name at least the first time.

"Everything okay?"

Of course," I say, feeling like a jerk for sort of lying to her. "Can you make sure to throw in one of those banana pudding cupcakes?"

"Sure thing," she says, the smile she gives me before going back to the display case to finish the order not reaching her eyes.

Cash assumed the crew down the street was the reason for my awkwardness this morning, and he's partially right, but I can tell when Adalynn closes the cupcake box that she sees a deeper reason behind the shadows in my eyes this morning, but I don't give it a voice. Instead, I give her a wide smile and pay for my items.

It wouldn't surprise me if she isn't already well aware that there's something going on between Riley and me. That damn nosey neighbor across the street posted yesterday, asking if Riley was getting work done on her home because the Hammertime Construction truck has been parked at her house for days. The community knows what she's actually asking and I hate the sneaky way people get into everyone's business around here. Mrs. Easter asked the question but also turned off comments, making it very suspicious.

But, as much as I hate the way this town is and some of the people, I grew up never wanting to leave. I couldn't imagine trying to join the rat race in the city where I don't know anyone and the status quo is to step on others to be successful.

The guys are already hard at work on our latest project, building a gazebo for a newer resident in town. They came from the city but have made a point to only hire locally and spend their money in town, and those are the kind of folks we like to see settling into town, people who want to slow down and become part of the community rather than those who want to change it.

"Is there a problem?" I ask as I approach the crew, who are all standing in a semi-circle.

Ethan, my crew lead, looks over his shoulder, and I recognize the look in his eyes as frustration. He steps to the side to reveal a young woman, and although I've never seen her, the snarl on her face and the way she has her hands on her hips tells me she isn't a happy camper either.

"Hi," I say as I pass off the box of cupcakes to Donnie, who then loses all interest in what's going on in favor of getting first pick. "I'm Mac Hammer."

I hold my hand out to her, feeling a little pissed when she stares down at the thing for the briefest of moments before shaking it.

"Is there a problem?"

"It's eight in the morning," she says. "Why are they here so early?"

"It's time for work," I explain. "May I ask who you are?"

"I live here," she says, pointing over her shoulderat the house.

"It's my understanding that Mr. and Mrs. Drocer live here. They scheduled this job while they were on vacation, so it would be easier for us to get it done without getting in the way."

"I'm Callie Drocer," she explains. "Their daughter."

I tilt my head, confusion beginning to tug in my mind.

"I was assured the home would be empty," I explain.

"I'm... This is my parents' home, and I live here now." She rushes the words out as if she really doesn't want to explain herself.

I'm in no position to get into anyone's business because I don't want them in mine.

"We've been contracted to build this gazebo by your parents’ house," I explain. "We'll be here the rest of the week. Our workday starts at eight in the morning."

She sighs, her hand once again going to her hip, making her look even more out of place.

It's clear that she either had a late night or she just didn't bother with taking off her makeup because it's smudged under her eyes.

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