Page 37 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I just assumed you didn’t since there aren’t any chairs.”

“Huh.” I guess there weren’t.

Normally, I just sat on the railing, leaning against one of the posts. The porch ran along the entire front of the cabin. From here, I could see through the trees and down the slope of the mountain. I’d sit out here and spy on deer or other animals.

A year ago, a black bear had come through here every now and again to scratch her back on one particular tree. A different summer, there’d been an eagle that had built the beginnings of a nest in one of the trees before giving it up to relocate somewhere else.

Maybe some chairs would be a nice addition.

I was mentally sketching a design by the time I walked down the steps and joined Piper by my gray truck parked in the narrow gravel driveway.

I didn’t have a yard up here so there was no mowing or maintenance. It was all natural, including the footpath I’d worn between my house and the shop.

“Can you make it in those shoes?” I asked.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?” I could carry her down if I needed to, though that might be dangerous for us both. I’d probably get so distracted by her in my arms I’d trip and crash us both.

“I’m sure.” She waved me off. “I’ve had years of practice in shoes like this. I’m just as steady on heels as I am in sneakers.”

I scoffed. “Uh-huh.”

“I am! See?” With that, she skipped down the trail. She fucking skipped, like a little kid. Her hair bounced on her shoulders. Her arms swung at her sides.

I about had a damn heart attack, running to keep up just in case she slipped.

But she made her point, arriving safely at the shop without so much as a hint of a wobble on those shoes. I scowled at her smug grin, then unlocked the shop.

We went in through the side door since I used it most. The front of the shop was a large garage door, but I opened it rarely for deliveries or in the summer afternoons when I needed a breeze to chase out the heat. It was nice to have open, but I didn’t want to risk having a squirrel or bird sneak inside and make my shop their new home.

I flipped on the panel of lights by the door as I stepped inside. Like always, my first breath was a long one, dragging in the smell of sawdust and lacquer.

Piper came in behind me, her eyes tracking everywhere as she took in the walls and tall ceilings. “Wow. This is quite the place.”

It was my haven. A place only a few had ever stepped inside, not once a woman.

The exterior of the building was made of two-tone steel, the bottom rimmed with dark brown while the rest was tan. The roof and garage door matched the darker color. I’d paid extra for a nonwhite building, but it had been worth it so the shop blended in with the trees.

Still, it was simple. It was a steel box that didn’t have a lot of exterior charm.

The inside was a different story.

The tool benches on the wall beside the side door were as high quality as you could get, more expensive than what you’d find in most mechanics’ garages. I’d made the shelving myself to hold larger tools, as well as the large racks at the back of the shop that I used to sort and store wood. I’d added extra lights to ensure that even in the dead of night, I could be here and it would feel like high noon.

The center of the vast space was where I kept works in progress. There were two tabletops out now, each stacked on sawhorses. One of the projects was Piper’s table.

“You’re an organized one, aren’t you?” Her eyes were locked on the pegboards along the wall, where every tool was hung in its own precise location.

“I take care of my tools.”

“And your house. It’s the cleanest bachelor pad I’ve ever seen.”

I coughed to cover a laugh.

“What are you making?” She walked over to her table.

“These are both dining room tables.”