Page 9 of Man Glitter
“Where’s that crazy dad of yours, buddy?” I asked him.
He barked and trotted to the back door. I followed him outside and to the workshop. Damn fool was trying to still work with a hand he couldn’t use. Hot irritation hit the top of my head at his negligence. Here I was altering my whole life to stay with him and nurse him to health and he was back here doing more damage?
This time, when I saw him hunched over the huge sander, I waited until he stepped away before announcing my arrival.
“What the hell are you doing?” I called from the doorway, not trusting myself to come in any further, because of course, the guy didn’t have a damn shirt on again.
His dark head of tousled hair popped up, and he smiled, the grin so natural and pure it made me grumpier. I was here to yell at him, not ogle his model handsome face and torso.
“How’d it go?” he asked, running his good hand along a plank of wood.
Damn him. Of course, just when I wanted to pick a fight he’d be sweet and ask how my proposal went.
I took a couple steps into the workshop, inhaling the smell of wood and varnish. “It went really well, thanks for asking. The mayor gave the green light and said he’s sure the city council will agree. He already proposed one of the office build-outs on Brinestone for my urgent care and I got to check it out.”
Charlie stepped around the worktable and before I could brace myself, he pulled me into a hug, his strong arms wrapped around me tight. My cheek squished against his bare torso and I may have inhaled some man glitter as I got a signature whiff of soap and sweat and wood that already registered in my brain as Charlie.
“Congratulations, Rudolfina. That’s news we should celebrate.” He pulled back, all smiles and flexing muscles.
And there he went again, leaving me discombobulated over how I felt. The hug and sincere congratulations made me want to call him friend. The muscles pressed against me, causing a heat to bloom in my body, made me want to climb him and use his machinery. And then finally, the damn usage of my given name when he knew I didn’t like it, left me feeling ragey.
And ragey always won.
“It’s Finnie, mister,” I snapped, disentangling myself and stepping back to breathe fresh, un-Charlie-scented air. “And I’m already past you on the celebrating. I’ve got food from Forty-Diner and a bottle of red wine waiting for us in the house.”
Charlie whooped, the sound echoing off the tall walls of his workshop and bleeding out some of the rage. He spun back around to shut off his sander, put his arm across my shoulders, and walked us out the door. Chester ran around us in circles, feeling the excitement and wanting in on the party.
“I’ve got some moonshine I’ve been saving, but tonight seems like the night.” Charlie’s voice was a low rumble against me.
It felt way too good under his arm, so I dashed ahead on the pretenses of getting the back door open for him. All kinds of lines were being crossed because of our living circumstances and I wasn’t happy about it. My body seemed on board and all too happy, but thankfully I was an intelligent, mature woman, run by my brain, not my hormones.
Charlie started going through the cupboards, looking for something. I had no intention of drinking any moonshine, special batch or not, so I opened one of the bags from the diner to spread it out on the counter.
“Nope. Keep it in the bags. We’re traveling, woman.” Charlie came up behind me with paper plates, napkins, and forks. “Let’s put these in there and I’ll grab the moonshine.”
I rolled my eyes, but did as he asked. “Where are we going?”
He came back with a mason jar in his hand, filled with what I could only guess was moonshine, not that I’d ever had it before or knew anything about it. He’d also found a shirt on the counter and put it on. Thank God for small miracles.
“Just leave it to me.”
I grabbed the two bags, and he stuffed my wine bottle between his arm and his body, leading us out the back door again. The three of us walked past his workshop, where the trees got a bit denser.
“Is this still your property?” I asked wearily. I didn’t fancy getting shot for trespassing tonight.
Charlie nodded ahead of me, pointing out rocks and tree roots for me to watch out for. “Yep. I own four acres, most of which is back here. The guy who owned this place before me sold off that parcel you’re on for some extra cash, but then got mad when they built a house right against the property line. When he sold it to me, I figured I’d be in my workshop more than my house, so I didn’t care.”
We rounded a corner on the trail and there, up on a slight hill, was a round pergola the likes of which I’d never seen before. It was already dusk, so it was hard to make out the details, but even from a distance, you could see the structure was a piece of art. Six sides all held up with large slabs of wood, a lattice peaked roof, and fine details that reminded me of an old Victorian house.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, walking up the stairs to get a closer look at the craftsmanship. Chester curled up under one of the bench seats to snooze like he’d been here on more than one occasion.
Charlie put down the moonshine and wine, then walked over to a small box on the ground, nestled next to the structure. He flipped a switch and the whole pergola lit up with tiny white outdoor lights.
“Oh!” I turned in a circle, taking it all in, forgetting all about the bags in my hands. I turned back to Charlie, making his way up the stairs. “Who made this? It’s gorgeous.”
His head dipped, but I didn’t miss his little smile. “I did.”
“Charlie…I don’t know what to say. I had no idea this is what you made.” I put the bags down on the wood plank floor and had a seat on the built-in benches all around the inside perimeter of the pergola.
