Page 13 of Griffen the Mountain Man
The private space was a nice gesture by Ezra, but as a part-time employee whose job requires me to be on the move, an office outfitted with a desk and computer weren’t really necessary.
I swipe my thumb across the screen to answer Heidi’s call.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I got the job!” Her excited squeal pierces through the speaker. “I’m officially Kent Moreland’s assistant. Well, sort of. I have to give Mike my two weeks’ notice, but then I’m free to accompany Kent on his gigs.”
“Congratulations! How should we celebrate?” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder as I scrub my hands free of dirt with a rag from my toolbox.
“Dinner at The Ole Aces?”
“Sounds good. Does six work for you? I’ve got a couple more things to do at the lodge, then I’ll need to shower. After that, I can pick you up.”
“I’ll be waiting. See you soon!”
***
The Ole Aces used to be home to the grittier element of Suitor’s Crossing, but once military veteran Austin Fielding bought it, he turned it into one of the best places to chill with friends and a beer.
There was a rowdy transition period—especially after his Reaper’s Wolves MC friends became regular patrons—but with the completion of renovations, the bar hasn’t seen a major brawl in a while.
Heidi and I shuffle into a booth with wooden privacy slats rising from the back of our seats. The rustic grain gleams under the warm glow of the industrial lamps installed overhead, and my fingers itch to explore the craftsmanship.
“Is there a spider or something up there?” Heidi asks, tilting her head upward to search for what’s captured my attention.
“Ah, no… Just admiring Rhys’s work.”
Unfamiliarity wrinkles her brow.
“Rhys is a local blacksmith.” I point to the metal pieces mounted around the bar. “He created all of the iron fixtures and the barstool bases.”
“Oh, wow.” Heidi looks around the room with new eyes.
Her expression grows in appreciation as she studies each design, and a nudge in my gut whispers that I should tell her the whole truth.
“I see the appeal. They’re really cool—modern yet still blending seamlessly with the rusticity of the wood.”
A waitress stops by to take our drink order, saving me from immediately admitting the true reason for my fascination. Something I haven’t shared with anyone, not even my family.
Scratching behind my ear, I swallow the lump of nerves lodged in my throat. “Actually, it’s more than admiration. I’m interested in learning about smithing. There was a one-off project I did inmy high school woodshop class—a simple metal shelf—and since then, I’ve thought about exploring more.”
“So, youdoknow what you’d like to pursue once your grandpa moves to Golden Living.”
I flush in remembrance of telling her that I didn’t have a clue what my life should look like after Gramps’s move. I wasn’t intentionally lying to her, but maybe I’d been lying to myself. Doubting the seriousness of my interest. Ignoring the instinct to make the dream a reality.
“I guess so. Maybe…” I shrug in discomfort. “No one in my family knows. It’s just been an idea in the back of my head for years. Hearing you talk about studying under Kent, then chasing your dream to make it happen, really inspired me. Maybe I should approach Rhys about an apprenticeship.”
Encouragement beams from her warm gaze. “You should! Even if his answer isno, he could offer suggestions for other blacksmiths to contact.”
Heidi reaches across the table to squeeze my tight fist. My knuckles are white from the pressure, but her supportive touch eases some of the tension.
“You don’t think I’m too old to be an apprentice? I’m thirty years old and still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” I joke.
“Thirty is not old.” She rolls her eyes. “And tons of people don’t have their lives figured out at every age. The important thing is to never give up or settle for less than you deserve. Maybe you start apprenticing and find out it’s not for you, but at least you’ll know, and you’ll be free to explore another interest. It won’t be hanging over your head as a ‘what if’that stops you from pursuing anything else for decades.”
I turn my hand over to tangle my fingers with hers. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
“I do, but it never hurts to hear it again.” A mischievous grin breaks through the intensity of her pep talk. “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”
