Page 25 of Flint
“Pete,” I say evenly. “You know better than to talk like that in my shop. This is Jules’ first day. I don’t want you makin’ her feel uncomfortable.”
He rakes one hand through his hair and nods. Pete walks up to the counter and sets the rifle case on the counter. “This is Vera, and she’s my very favorite gun.”
Jules doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls the case across the counter and deadpans back. “Let me guess, this is the best gun made by man, and it has extreme sentimental value.”
Pete’s eyes light up because Jules mimics Jane’s voice from the iconic sci-fi western. “Do you know about guns.”
Jules shakes her head. “Not a lot, but I do know about space cowboys.”
“Then you’ll fit right in around here.”
They chat for a few minutes. Pete eventually gets around to talkin’ about scope adjustment on his old rifle. “It probably needs an adjustment and a good cleaning, but I figured I’d let Flint take a look at her because my Vera deserves the best.”
“That’s a real smart move. If you treat her right, her bullets will fly right for you,” Jules murmurs as she fills out the intake sheet. She mangles the line, but Pete doesn’t care. She’s faster than I was expecting considering it’s her first day. Pete is leaning on the counter watching her as she writes.
“She’s a damn sight easier on the eye than Tommy,” he says approvingly as Jules bends down to put his weapon in the safe, her peachy ass on full display.
I shoot him daggers. I’m not sure why but having him ogle her sets off all kinds of things in me. And not in abeing protective towards my best friend’s sisterkind of way.
“Eyes up, cowboy,” I mutter.
The bell goes off again about a half an hour after Pete leaves. Another regular strolls into my shop. He’s wearing a holster on his hip with a revolver sitting in it.
“Long time no see, Flint.”
“Yeah, how the hell have you been, Mike?”
“Good. I heard you had a new face working the counter and thought I’d bring my spare revolver in. I think it needs a rebuild.”
Getting a little irritated, I shoot back, “You heard we had a new employee?”
“Yeah, word travels fast in a small town.”
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that.”
Mike steps right up to the counter and Jules greets him with a cheerful smile. I grudgingly get back to work on the Mossberg. But I keep an eye on Mike as well, ‘cause he’s a shifty fucker if ever there was one. Jules moves him along, following the procedure I laid out for her earlier.
By ten o’clock, we’ve had five customers come through the door, and the jobs are beginning to pile up. Just before noon, Jules walks up with our intake book in hand. Shooting me a curious look, she asks, “Flint, is it always this busy on a weekday morning?”
“Nope. My customers can be nosy bastards. The fact that you’re a fuckin’ beautiful woman has them mesmerized.”
She laughs. “So, so you think I’m beautiful. Is that what I’m hearing you say?”
I glance back down at the gun I’m working on, shrugging with one shoulder. “Yeah, you grew up cute.”
She looks up at me from under her long lashes. “How did I get downgraded from beautiful to just cute?”
“Didn’t we make a rule about flirting?” I ask not looking up.
“That wasn’t flirting,” she insists.
“Beautiful women fishing for compliments is flirting,” I deadpan back.
She shrugs carelessly with one shoulder, mimicking my body language. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments. You were volunteering them.”
Changing the subject back to all the men coming in to see the new girl behind the counter, I say, “The newness will wear off in a few days.”
“Alright, I’ll hang tight, be careful not to flirt, and not let all the unbridled male attention go to my head.”
