Once again, I was running out the door to work, rubbing my eyes all the way to my truck. I’d spent another night up late, working on my house. This time, it was the kitchen. I wanted a full indoor and outdoor kitchen, and the outdoor part absolutely had to be done in the summertime before it got too cold for the concrete to set. It’s a common joke that contractors always have the unfinished house, and I was no exception. I’d been working on that house for the better part of two years, but it was my dream house. It had everything I’d ever wanted in a home; or rather, it would, when I was finished with it.

My buddy, Wyatt Kincaid, the architect, helped me put the plans together for the house. I was a huge pain in the ass, but by the end of it, we had fun taking the piece of shit property and designing it into a dream home. Architects don’t usually get to be as creative as I let Wyatt be, and I was doing the building myself, so we talked through the whole plan. I made a great living as a contractor - there were only a handful of us in Red Springs - and most of the houses were old and needed work. That kept me busy during the day, and on the evenings I wasn’t at the local watering hole, I was working on my house. Wyatt had a wife and kids, and never really understood why I was building this huge house for just one person.

“You know, that dog can’t actually keep you warm at night, Flynn. You should think about settling down with someone,” he’d said recently.

“My dog puts up with my shit. And doesn’t give me any. So, Remmington will do just fine as my companion, thank you very much,” I replied.

Most of the girls we’d gone to school with were married, or married, divorced, and looking for new baby daddies. There weren’t a lot of new people coming to town, which used to disappoint me. But I’d settled in to my life, and while no one could deny that having someone special would be nice, for me, it just wasn’t in the cards. At thirty-two, I had already resigned myself to being a lifelong bachelor, just me and my dog. And I was ok with it.

When Wyatt suggested otherwise, all I could think of was how much I didn’t want to settle down with one of the girls we knew from school. I was no scholar by any stretch of the imagination, but at least I had that. Imagination. Sure, I stayed in the town I grew up in, but that didn’t make me an idiot. I didn’t venture off to the big city or anything, but I read books. Every girl I’d met in this town that I didn’t already know from high school, was uninspired, at best. They were looking for a husband. Not a companion, not someone to share a life with. They were looking for someone to father some babies and pay their bills, or take care of them and the kids they already had. I’m not saying that every girl everywhere is like that, but in my experience here, that’s certainly how it was in this town, and I wanted no part of any of it. Other than an occasional hookup, I led a fairly solitary life. Work, work on my house, sporadic drinks with the guys, repeat.

I had no idea that my everything would be turned upside down when I met her. I saw her for the first time at the convenience store, just outside of town. She was buying an obscene amount of snacks for such a little thing, and enough energy drinks to power the local plant. I was on my way back from a job in the next town over, and had stopped for some coffee; my true love, and drug of choice.

As I watched her pile chocolate, chips, beef jerky, and who knows what else on the counter, I took note of her brunette hair, piled high on top of her head, supported by giant sunglasses. She was definitely not from around this area, and I was instantly mesmerized by her sweet, feminine features. Her pale skin was offset by that dark hair, with crystal blue eyes that sparkled from the sun through the storefront glass window, stopping me in my tracks. She caught me staring at her unabashedly, and raised an eyebrow in my direction.

“Something wrong?” she asked with a smirk, knowing full well she caught me staring.

“Who me? No, not at all. That’s a lot of snacks,” I replied, like a fucking bonehead. Obviously, every girl wants you to comment on the amount of food they’re buying.

Pursing her lips and sneering at me, she replied, “People need to eat, you know.” She turned her attention back to the cashier, and paid for her stockpile, while I rolled my eyes at myself. There was really nothing else I could say. When the cashier handed her the bag and she thanked him kindly, she slid her glasses back down, but not before giving me a snide look with a tight smile.

“Have a nice day,” she sang sarcastically in my direction as she backed out of the store.

“Smooth move,” the cashier snickered at me.

Shrugging my shoulders and handing over my coffee money, I replied, “Not my day, I guess.” As I slinked back to my truck, I saw her pulling away. She had Nebraska plates, but she definitely wasn’t local. I spent the rest of the morning replaying our encounter in my head, thinking of what I could have said to engage her in conversation, making me look less like a jackass.