Page 26 of Wrecked for Love
I was just about to finish my shift, but the delivery truck showed up with what felt like a hundred crates of paint, screws, tools, and everything else you’d expect in a hardware store. Hell, I’d stay. I didn’t really care if I worked a little overtime.
“Of course. Come on, let me tackle that monster,” I said, nodding toward the biggest box.
I’d been here a few weeks now, and honestly, I was enjoying it more than I expected. Annette was a firecracker, always spilling gossip but with the kind of heart you couldn’t help but love. She never hesitated to sing my praises in front of her dad, especially when I stuck around for those extra hours. And she was quick to show me the ropes, giving me the rundown on how things worked in the store and filling me in on the quirks of Buffaloberry Hill.
I had to give her credit; she made me feel like I belonged.
Another perk? The employee discount. I’d already loaded up on things to spruce up The Willow. Logan had given me free rein to do whatever I wanted, short of demolishing the place. And every now and then, Paul would throw in something for free. Small-town generosity.
“So,” Annette started, sidling up to me. She finger-brushed her cropped hair, styled with a hint of tomboy edge that paid tribute to Roxette’s Marie Fredriksson. No modern singer, in her mind, could pull it off like Marie had. “You done with that cottage yet?”
I wiped my brow. “Yeah, it’s done.”
“Cool. So you stuck with yellow?” she asked, grinning. When I’d first mentioned my color choice, she’d joked that I’d turn the place into a beehive.
“Yeah, I did. It’s all bright and sunny now. It’s a little wild, but it suits the place.”
I’d swapped out those awful dark brown curtains for light sunflower-yellow ones. The walls in the living room had gotten a fresh coat of soft cream, and I’d added some yellow accents—throw pillows, a couple of vases, even the kitchen towels. I’d also found this old, beat-up chair in the basement, and I brought it back to life with a fresh coat of veneer and a new baby-blue plaid cushion. And the backyard? Daisies and roses flourished.
Annette’s eyes twinkled. “Did you know…well, I didn’t want to freak you out before, but…that place is haunted?”
I burst out laughing. “Haunted? The only ghosts I’ve seen are the ones in the basement. You know, the cobweb kind.”
Annette giggled, but then her expression grew serious. “No, really. The whole town’s been talking about that place for ages. Some say someone died there. Others think it was a meeting spot for a cult way back when.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A cult? Well, if I start hearing chanting, I’ll be sure to send up a flare. Or maybe I’ll burn some sage and see how they like that.”
Annette snorted with laughter. As we got back to work, she casually asked, “By the way, when’s your birthday?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Relax, I wasn’t digging for a year, just the date,” she clarified, noticing my reaction.
“I don’t usually share my birthday,” I replied, a bit more defensive than I intended.
Her gaze shifted with interest. “Well, I was thinking about getting you something. But no birthday, no present,” she said.
I sidestepped the conversation. “Hey, you know that animal shelter over by the edge of town?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Who owns it?”
“Mr. Gunn,” she replied.
“He a good guy?”
She shrugged. “Well, he’s got a good heart. Otherwise, why open a shelter, right? But let’s just say his grumpy side doesn’t exactly help get those kitties and doggies adopted.”
“Does he have anyone helping him? Volunteers?”
Annette shook her head. “Not for long, anyway. I don’t know if he’s got anyone now. Look, I love animals just as much as the next person, but the guy’s rough. I get wanting to be around animals more than people—I totally do—but like, you still need people. Ya feel me?”
I nodded, a plan slowly starting to take shape in my head. I hadn’t been back to the shelter since that day, but maybe I could set myself a little challenge—see if I could turn a grumpy old man who loved animals into one who could maybe tolerate people too.
Then, another thought hit me. Something I’d been curious about but never asked. “Hey, Annette, you know a boy around fifteen? Kinda shy, always biking around town?”
“Yeah, there’s probably thirty of them here.”
