Claws & Crochet

Part 13

ZOEY

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I've run into Warner here, now that I know he's somehow connected to the owner of the shop.

When I turn, he stands framed by the doorway, midday light making his edges glow.

"Hi, Warner."

"You two know each other?" Rebecca's eyes flick between us.

Please don't be his wife. Please don't be his wife.

"Hey, Mom." Oh thank the universe. "Yeah, we met at Sip 'N Sew."

"Sip 'N Stitch." I correct.

"Of course. My bad." Warner saunters into the store, and I can't help noticing the difference in his appearance. At the biker bar he'd been in a black T-shirt, jeans, and his leathers. Today, he has on jeans again, but pairs them with a torn tank top that shows off his arms, and a neon safety vest. The bright color should look garish, but it only helps to enhance the tan shade of his skin. His hair is slicked back from his face, sitting flat against his head in a funny way. My guess is the result of wearing a hard hat.

"Do you work on a construction crew?" I ask.

Warner grins down at his vest and ruffles a hand in his hair. "What gave me away?"

"Why were you at Sip 'N Stitch?" Rebecca is clearly still stuck on how her son met the new girl in town.

"For Zoey, of course." He aims a charming grin at his mother, which she answers with a grimace.

"You're sassing me."

"Never," he responds, still smiling before turning back to me. "What did you buy? Please tell me power tools. There is nothing sexier than a woman wielding power tools."

He's teasing me, a wicked glimmer in his eyes, and I get the urge to give it back to him.

"That's good to know. I would hate to have spent so much money on props for my porno only to find out power tools aren't sexy." I keep a straight face through the delivery.

Warner's mouth drops open, then morphs into a delighted grin.

"You're not helping. He's already hell to deal with on a normal day," Rebecca mutters as she sets my bags on the counter.

"Apologies." Damn, I was so focused on flirting with Warner, I forgot I was standing in front of his mother. Besides, I shouldn't be flirting. He might think I'm interested in something more than friendship. Which I am definitely not.

"Ruining my fun, Mom" Warner murmurs, still wearing a happy smile. "So, how does our small-town hardware store compare to the retail giants in Denver?"

"This place has everything I need, and more than I can afford." I glance back at the aisles, trying to stifle my longing. "I may be back for that table saw after I sell a few organs."

Rebecca smirks as she prints my receipt.

"The McGiver? You can borrow mine." Warner moves closer, his gaze tracing over me, leaving a disconcerting tingle in its wake. "I might have a few more tools you can use if you want."

Was that supposed to have a double meaning?

Either way, now my mind is focused on one particular tool Warner carries with him at all times. And all the ways I could use it.

"You trying to take my business from me?" Rebecca scowls at her son, but there's a smile in her eyes.

"Of course not. Just being neighborly." He walks around the counter to press a kiss to her cheek, before hefting one of my bags off the counter. "I'm on my lunch break. Wanna grab a sandwich, mystery woman?" He circles back around to crouch down in front of Bruce, scratching behind his floppy ears. "Or should I ask your man for permission?"

I snort, loading my arms up with the rest of my new materials. "Bruce knows I'm done with domineering men. He's happy to follow my lead as long as I'm handing out treats along the way." When I tilt under the weight of one of my bags, Warner stands and goes to grab it. I turn, holding the bag just out of his reach. "How am I going to get strong enough to carry it if you take it from me?"

Warner pauses, staring down at me as if fascinated with what he sees. Then his grin comes back, wide and welcoming, and too handsome for any man. "You're right. Sorry 'bout that."

His reaction is refreshing as my dad's homemade lemonade. Nothing like what my brothers would've done.

Abram would have told me to stop being stupid and used his longer arms to reach around me and grab the bag.

Byron would give me puppy dog eyes and wax on about how he just wants to help me out, and how he never sees me anymore, and how he feels so useless sometimes, until I'm guilted into giving up my burden.

Carver would make a joke about my spaghetti arms, then tickled me until I physically couldn't hold the bag anymore.

Donovan wouldn't say anything. He's all about the sneak attack. The second I let my guard down he'd creep up behind me and snatch the bag from my hand.

But Warner doesn't do any of that. Instead, he listens to me.

And for some reason that seems dangerous. Mainly because I like it so much.

Author's note: thank you for reading! Would you have let Warner carry all your bags for you?