Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
I huff a humorless laugh. My career is over, and she’s the one aggrieved. Classic Emily.
I see it the second the fight leaves her body. She’s got no reason to stick around. She’ll work to get her payoff from me, and then she’ll move on.
I close the door in her face, my actions calmer than I feel with the anger boiling inside of me.
I force a smile on my face as I turn around.
“I was a hero today, Daddy!” Cale is bouncing up and down on my bed. I’d make him stop if he wasn’t right in the center of the massive thing.
“I heard,” I tell him. “Want to help Daddy pack?”
Both boys frown. It’s part of our routine for them to help me pack for my away games. As helpful as they are, they never want me to leave.
“How long will you be gone this time?” Cole asks.
“I miss you when you’re gone, Daddy,” Cale adds.
“We’re going on a trip,” I tell them. “We’re going to see Papaw.”
Their eyes light up, and now it’s Cole’s turn to stand and start bouncing on the bed, with a wide grin on his face.
It’s crazy how the very last place I wanted to be my entire life is the same place I run back to when my world gets turned upside down.
Chapter 1
Chase
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
“How are you out of them?”
“You bought three of them last week, Mr. Pritchard.”
He turns his head in my direction as if he thinks the reminder is disrespectful.
“That may be the case, but don’t you have an ordering system? One that tells you when something is out and you need to get more?”
I give him a quick and kind smile, knowing full well I ordered more of the ten-millimeter sockets right after he left with our last three. I know that just as I know that on Thursday when they were delivered, I restocked them on the peg board we’re standing in front of right now.
“It’s our most commonly bought size,” I explain. “Dad must’ve sold the new ones. I’ll get a new order called in. As soon as they arrive, I’ll give you a call.”
“Put them all behind the counter for me.”
I blink at him. If we were anywhere else but Lindell, Texas—the last damn happy small town in the world, it seems—this man’s demands would probably be met with indignation.
“How many would you like me to put behind the counter, Mr. Pritchard?”
“All of them.”
I take a deep breath, slowly releasing it from my nose. My face is smiling, but irritation is growing inside of me.
“You got it. Anything else you’re needing today?”
He shakes his head, waving his arm up in dismissal as he slowly makes his way to the front of the store.
Wooden It Be Nice is the family-owned business. Its name a play on our last name—Woodson. The name also works well since it’s a hardware store. The entire town is full of kitschy titled stores and shops. Lindell, Texas is one of the few places that progress somehow overlooked. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of modern around here, but there are just some things the folks in the community just won’t allow, including big box stores or anything they’d consider a franchise. The city council, run by the founding families, meet and decide nearly every decision made within the city limits. You won’t find a drive-thru here. Being personable and having human interaction is a must.
I blame the years spent away from here for the irritation bubbling inside of me as I walk back toward the front counter.
“What happened to the new sockets I restocked earlier this week?”
“Sold ‘em,” Dad says without even looking up from the newspaper he’s reading.
His lip twitches in frustration when the thing keeps bending forward on itself and ruining his reading experience. It’s a daily occurrence, this scene playing out in front of me, but you can’t tell him any differently. He went on a tirade when I suggested using an app on his phone to read the paper. When he balked about wasting good money, I offered to pay for the subscription. The look I got that day was deadly.
“Dad,” I say, pressing my hand to the top of the paper, forcing him to look at me.
Some days, it feels like I have three young children instead of just two.
“We discussed this.”
“We discuss a lot of things,” he says, his brow furrowing when I don’t pull my hand back from the paper.
“You have to log things in the inventory book.”
“That thing’s a pain in the a—” He shifts his eyes to the boys playing with their children-appropriate hardware set, including plastic saws and tiny hammers. “Butt.”
“I’m fine with ordering a new point of sale system, one that not only tracks but also auto orders the things we run out of.”