Page 30 of Coach
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here,” a familiar voice called.
I was standing in the home improvement store two towns over (the closest one, which was one major mark against Shady Valley), trying to decide which length of nails I was going to need for my next project.
I’m not proud of how my heart swooped at the sound of his voice. It felt so juvenile, considering he was a practical stranger and he hadn’t tried to seek me out since our little elevator adventure. Even though he knew exactly where I worked.
I totally hadn’t been almost constantly disappointed by that or anything. Even if, logically, I knew there was no reason to assume a guy like Saul would be harping on such a little thing days later.
I mean, I’d been to the clubhouse. I’d seen the half-naked, very willing, women all around.
He probably didn’t even remember me.
Except, of course, he did.
“Hey.” I turned, realizing too late that my smile was probably just a smidge too wide for a casual encounter in the nail aisle. “Working on a new project?”
God, he looked good.
He was even more casual than last time in a well-worn white tee that had several dried smudges of stain and a two-inch rip up the side. It had that buttery-soft look that had me wishing I could walk into him and press my cheek to his chest. But only for the shirt. Not the gorgeous man beneath.
He still smelled like nag champa, but there was also the scent of pine clinging to him from whatever he was making.
“Dropped off the bird stand yesterday. Dove into my next project right after. Having a nail conundrum?”
“I’m building a fence,” I told him. “Trix likes to do long sniffs around the property, and it’s kinda cutting into my renovating and redecorating plans.”
“What kind of fence? Stockade?”
“Well, if I did that, I would need to have my landlord go to the city. No, right now, I’m just doing posts with black garden fencing. Which makes it mostly see-through. And if I’m understanding the code book well enough, it means I don’t needtownship approval. I got the fence.” I waved back to my cart. “I think I’m going to need to rent a moving truck to get the posts. Which leaves me with… screws.”
“Stainless steel is gonna give you the best longevity. And you’re gonna want washers to distribute the screw’s load. Also, make it nearly impossible for Trix to push the garden fencing outward if she sees something interesting on the other side.”
“Perfect,” I said, reaching for the ones he suggested. Even if they were the more expensive option.
I had money coming in now.
I didn’t have to pinch every single penny.
“You know a lot about this.”
“I’ve built a bunch of fences. Worked at a fencing company before I went into construction.”
“Well then. How are my other supplies?” I asked, waving toward the cart again.
“Wood is good. I’d recommend staining or painting it to make it last. Where’s your cement?”
“I didn’t want to drag around hundreds of pounds of it through the store. I’ll get it on my way out.”
“Honey, tell me you don’t plan to dig the holes with this,” he said, lifting the shovel I’d picked up.
“I need to dig.”
“Two feet deep—at least—per post. Dunno how big your yard is, but trust me, you don’t want to be digging all that. You’re gonna want a post hole digger.”
“Yeah, I watched a video on those.” Where the guy said you had to be careful so you don’t end up with something broken or amputated. “They’re kinda scary.”
Saul’s gaze slid over me in a way that wasn’t sexual, just appraising. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You’d probably want more strength behind one of those. I could do it for you.”
“What? No. I can’t ask you to do that.”
