Claws & Crochet

Part 20

ZOEY

There's no harm in using a man for his tool.

His electric jig saw, that is.

Some pieces of furniture I'm refurbishing require more than a simple sand and stain. I need to make precise cuts, which means I need a jig saw. Briefly, I considered buying one. But I already have one back in Denver, and I simply forgot to pack it.

Way too much of my truck space was allotted to crafting supplies.

Why did I think I needed a gallon of glitter?

To keep my wallet happy, I opt for borrowing from Warner.

And that's the only reason I called Sawdust and Supplies asking after him.

My visit to his place is definitely not inspired by the steamy sex scenes in the romance novel I checked out earlier this week.

Not at all.

A man by the name of Mason answered the phone when I called last evening. A minute later, he passed the receiver off to Warner, who immediately agreed to help me out.

I park in front of the hardware store. Turns out Warner lives in the apartment above his family's shop.

Small town life. It's kind of sweet.

Walking around to the side alley, I spot the door he told me to knock on.

Just as I'm raising my fist, a voice sounds from behind me. "Who are you?"

I turn, meeting the amber eyes of a beautiful, young woman. She wears torn jeans and a general air that asks why should I give a fuck about you? Her tangle of dark hair frames a pale face that could belong to a sixteen-year-old or just as easily a twenty-six-year old.

"I'm Zoey Gunner." I hold out my hand. "And you?"

The girl glances from my hand to my face back to my hand, before finally accepting it in a surprisingly firm grip. "Tanya." Then she steps in closer, her nostrils flaring slightly as her head cocks. "You're not from around here."

Not a question, but I answer anyway. "My grandmother was Minnie Gunner. I'm fixing up her cabin to sell."

Tanya finally lets go of my hand, but continues to watch me with a certain amount of intensity.

"No one was invited to your grandma's funeral."

"There wasn't one." The woman was cremated, and Dad drove down to collect the ashes. I have zero knowledge of what my mom did with them. "Did you want to be invited?" The little I know of my grandmother indicated she didn't have many friends.

The girl shoves her hands in her pockets. "Nope. Didn't know her. But the gossips could not get enough of being affronted about a lack of invite."

"Why? No one was invited. There wasn't even something to be invited too."

Tanya rolls her eyes and steps around me, reaching for the doorknob. "That's just as bad. You denied them the chance to gossip about Old Lady Gunner. Plus, they've been dying for a peak at your mom after all these years. You here to see Warner?"

"Yes," I murmur, following her up a set of stairs, my thoughts on her words.

Is my family really that interesting to these people?

I kinda thought my mom would've been forgotten after being gone over three decades, and my grandmother acting the hermit.

But maybe that just made the mystery grow.

I refocus on the young woman in front of me, finding my own curiosity peaked.

"Are you Warner's girlfriend?"

"Are you kidding me?" She glares over her shoulder. "Gross! Give me a second while I locate the nearest bucket to puke in."

"So, no?"

"Hell no. I'm his sister. His favorite sister."

"You're my only sister." The man in question appears at the top of the steps, smiling down at us. "Which means you're my least favorite, too. Hi, Zoey."

"Hi—"

Tanya juts her hip to the side, blocking me from view. "Yeah, well I have three brothers to choose from, so you better be nicer to me or you'll make the bottom of my list."

I continue up the stairs until I can see him over her shoulder. Warner clutches his chest as if wounded. "Words hurt baby sis. Now move your ass. You're blocking, Zoey."

"You know what? Maybe I should be blocking Zoey. I think she might be my new best friend, which means I need to guard her from cruel men."

My arm is snagged in an unforgivingly friendly embrace.

The exchange is fascinating. Like Tanya, I'm also the only girl in my family. I wonder if this is how dramatic I sound when bickering with my brothers.

I offer her a placating smile. "No guarding needed. I'm just here for his tool."

The girl's face goes slack, then she mimes gaging. "TMI!"

"Power tool!" I hurry to clarify. Only, now I'm thinking about his other tool. Wondering about the size of it. The feel of it. Imagining all the things I'd tell him to do with it . . .

"I don't need to know what you call it!" Tanya covers her ears and sprints up the steps, leaving me with Warner, who seems to be strangling as his eyes glitter with amusement.

"Did I just scar your sister?"

The guy leans back against the wall, letting loud guffaws of laughter spill out. A reluctant grin plucks at my mouth as I finish climbing the steps.

Chuckles trailing off, Warner leads me through another door into an apartment that could be cozy if it had a little more personality. A coat rack holds both a leather vest and leather jacket with the Dark Moon Riders patch stitched on the back of both. The only wall decoration is a large, mounted TV. Two mismatched couches face the screen, and one holds a young man that looks strikingly similar to Tanya, who now leans on a kitchen island, eyes focused on her phone.

"This is my younger brother, Isaac." Warner gestures to the guy who nods silently before his eyes flick back to whatever game is playing on the TV.

"Nice to meet you both," I announce. Tanya waves a distracted hand at me.

"This way," Warner gestures I should follow him into another room where I find myself in a small workshop.

"Wow. Not the normal set up you'd expect in an apartment." I run my fingers along the high top of his work bench and admire the wide array of tools hanging in organized patterns on the walls.

Warner shrugs. "Some people need an office. I wanted a workshop. Besides, it's not like I have downstairs neighbors who'd be bothered by the sound of a power saw."

"Do you make things?"

He nods. "Sometimes. More often I'm repairing things. Broken chair leg here, cracked floorboard there."

"That's your job?"

His grin is rueful as he scratches the back of his neck. "Nah. I earn a paycheck at my uncle's construction company. This is like a hobby. People bring me their small projects."

"That's sweet. Are you sure you're part of a badass motorcycle gang?"

Warner seems more like the guy to help an old woman cross the street rather than roar down it on his insanely load hog.

He grimaces. "It's not that kind of gang. We're not running drugs or anything."

"So everyone in town loves the Dark Moon Riders?" I ask, thinking back on Juliet's words.

A few differentemotions flick across his face until he pulls a casual give-nothing-away maskinto place. "Feelings are mixed."

Author note: Gotta love a little sister who gives her big bro a hard time!