Page 34 of Not Looking
“Are you sure? It’s not a problem.”
“I got it, but thanks for offering.”
“Sure.”
I grabbed the pallet and moved it out of the way as he climbed into his truck. The suspension creaked a bit as he started off, but—as he’d said—the old thing seemed to handle it fine.
The echo of gravel under tires lingered longer than it should have as he rounded the building and exited the parking lot.
He was gone again—my only consolation was knowing that he’d be back the next day to pick up more wood.
∞∞∞
Sweat drenched my shirt, but—more importantly—it drenched Randy’s. Fabric clung to him in ways that were sure to fuel my fantasies.
Oppressive summer heat had settled over the area just as he’d come back for his final load. And though the boards were the promised shorter lengths, the oak was a heavy enough wood that it wasn’t much of a difference.
The truck wasn’t as low as I passed over the final board, and I decided to press my luck. “Gonna browse while you’re here?”
He glanced at the load. “I can probably fit a bit more.”
I grinned. “How about I get you some water from the break room while you drive around?”
He smiled at me. “That… would actually be great. Thanks.”
“See you up there then.”
I grabbed the pallet and carried it back, then headed to the break room. I found a small stash of paper cups under the sink, and got both him and I some water from the dispenser.
He was just walking in as I entered the main showroom, and we both veered to the counter. I gave him a cup, and we both downed them in silence.
“Thank you,” he said with a sigh as he set the empty cup on the counter.
“Need more?” I asked. “It was scorching out there.”
“Give me a minute to decide,” he replied with a chuckle.
“No prob.”
He nodded and started to take a step back.
“I… ummm…” I started.
He paused.
I scratched the back of my neck. “I felt bad that I didn’t have anything good for you last time. So I’ve been setting aside some small pieces that I thought you might like.”
“You didn’t have to,” he replied with a laugh. “Some days the pickins are slim.”
“But I wanted to.”
There was a beat of silence, and his expression changed slightly. Then he nodded. “Well… I might as well take a look.”
I pulled out the plastic bin, careful to keep the scrawled label facing away from him, and his eyes went wide.
“This is way too much,” he protested. “Did you leave anything for other customers?”
I smiled. “I left plenty for them.”
