Wyatt had set me up with a new client that I was going to meet the next day; whoever had bought the old house in town that had seemingly been abandoned forever. I was genuinely curious to see what they wanted to do with it, and said yes as soon as Wyatt mentioned it to me. I was also quite intrigued over who would have purchased the rundown property. The land around it was vast, but hadn’t been cared for or cultivated in so long, it would have taken immense work to get anything to grow there again.

“I got a call from an old college buddy, asking if I could recommend a local contractor,” he’d said.

“Well, I appreciate you thinking of me.” Truth be told, there weren’t a ton of contractors in our neck of the woods, and Wyatt was my friend, so he always recommended me.

“Like I’d trust anyone else,” he scoffed.

Grinning back, I asked who it was.

“I’m not entirely sure. Someone apparently inherited the old Brennan house, and they’re coming to fix it up to flip. They don’t need an architect, but it seems they knew an architect in the city, so they looked me up to get a recommendation. That’s about the extent of my knowledge.” He shrugged, and handed me a slip of paper with her name on it. Jacinda Brennan. Sounded exotic. “I checked with your foreman already, and he said that you were available.”

“Indeed, I am. Besides, who wouldn’t want to see the inside of that old house?” It had always been a mystery to us, from the time we were kids. We all knew that an old woman lived inside, but she kept to herself, had her groceries delivered, and she never socialized. The story is that her husband died when she was pregnant with her one child, and then when her son grew up, he left and never came back. Nobody ever knew why, and certainly no one ever dared ask. She wasn’t known for her kindness.

“I’m guessing it’s a long lost relative. Her name is on that paper. She’ll be here later today and says you can come by anytime Thursday.”

“Alright, thanks. Beers Friday?” I asked him.

“No can do, friend; the wife has other plans for me this weekend. Maybe next weekend, if you’re not up to your eyeballs in that outdoor kitchen.”

“Sounds good. I’ve gotta get moving; I have a few estimates to work on. My least favorite part of my job. Paperwork.” I rolled my eyes, and took off.

Now, I was meeting this new owner in the morning. I decided I’d make my customary daily run to the hardware store for a few things I needed, then go work on my patio for a while, since I had a bit of time to myself until the next day. There was always something I needed there, and Harvey, the owner, knew me well. I avoided taking the long drive out to the chain hardware store whenever I could. Unless I was in a hurry for something in particular, Harvey could order me anything he didn’t stock, and I wanted to support his local business anyway.

When I arrived, he was sitting behind the counter, smoking a cigar and reading the paper.

“Hey Harvey, how’s it going?” I almost chuckled. Everyone knows that you’re not supposed to smoke indoors, and Harvey gave zero fucks. He did technically own the building his store was in, but it was still pretty old-fashioned to be sitting there, just puffing away.

He waved a bit of the smoke away and peered at me over his gold wire-rimmed reading glasses. “Well, hey there, Flynn. I was wondering if you’d be in today. How’s the outdoor kitchen coming along? You ready to invite me over for some delicious smoked meats and a beer yet?” He smirked.

Laughing, I replied, “Not just yet. I’m about to finish laying the bricks; this weekend, I hope. Then, I’ve still got to finish the outdoor bar. Once that’s done, I think we can have the boys over for a few.” Just as I was about to continue talking about my amazing project, I saw her again. The girl from the convenience store. She was in the hardware store, of all places. I couldn’t believe my luck. Maybe I had another chance to look less like an ass.

Harvey called over to her as I watched her stand and stare at a display of chains. She had a cart full of cleaning supplies, furniture polish, brand new rags, a screwdriver set, and a hammer. I was dying to know what she was working on, and what she needed chains for.

“Hey there, miss. Are you finding everything ok?” he asked.

As she turned her head toward us, I caught her eye, that brilliant blue, as the light caught them. “Is this the only chain you have?” she asked, sounding frustrated.

“Um, well I have a bit more in the back. What are you looking for exactly?” Henry put his cigar down in an old copper ashtray, and set the paper down.

“I think I need heavier chain than this.” She turned her lips to a sideways smile, igniting a little spark in me. She was fucking adorable.

“What’s it for?” I asked, inserting myself in the conversation.

Raising an eyebrow, she turned her attention to me, and quickly realized we’d met before. Her expression changed from friendly to annoyed as she replied sharply, “I’m fixing a porch swing. Do you work here?”

“No, no, I don’t. But I’m fairly handy,” I stated, putting my hands up in surrender.

Harvey watched the exchange, before walking over to the girl and looking at his own stock of chain hanging in front of her. He pointed to a thick chain and explained that it would work well for a porch swing, if installed properly. “It’s a little heavy, but if it’s reinforced where you hang it, it’ll hold that swing just fine. Are you doing this yourself? It’s a bit heavy,” he said.

“I don’t need any help hanging a porch swing, if that’s what you’re asking me,” she replied curtly. “I’m perfectly capable of lifting this up.” She was offended, and we were clearly nothing but a couple of neanderthals at that point. The chain did look pretty heavy for a tiny thing like her, but I suppose it was offensive to point it out.

“I’m sorry, miss. I just meant that we could send someone over to help if you needed it,” Harvey apologized, and put the chain in the beautiful woman’s cart, while I continued to watch her intently. She was wearing tiny denim shorts, a loose-fitting black tank top that said COFFEE in bold white letters across her chest, and converse sneakers. She had that beautiful dark hair piled up on top of her head with her sunglasses resting there. A tiny gold chain around her neck caught my eye as well, although I couldn’t make out what was hanging from it.

She let out a sigh. “I appreciate your offer, but I am ok on my own. I’ve hired someone to assist me with some other projects, but this one I intend to complete today on my own.” She forced a smile at Harvey, and ignored me completely.

After Harvey had rung her up, I was getting desperate to save face from the day before. “Can I help you get all this to your car?” I asked hopefully.

Giving me the once-over, and then glancing back at the heavy load she had to carry, she begrudgingly accepted. “Um, sure. But let’s not go asking about what I ate today, eh?” She was sassy, and it was fucking hot. I wondered where she’d come from, and how I could turn carrying her shit to her car for her into something more.

“I promise to try not to say anything offensive or stupid in the next few moments while I carry your stuff.” I smirked at her, finally getting a small grin to form on her face.

“Well, that would be delightful,” she replied. “And thank you for helping me. I would have had to make several trips just to get it all out.” She slid her large sunglasses down after she finished paying, and turned to walk out.

As I followed her to the car, I couldn’t help but let my eyes roam to her ass. It was perfect, of course. Part of me wanted to go all caveman, and just take her right there. She was not only beautiful, but she had a smart mouth too, and I’d have loved nothing more than to shut it up with mine, right before grabbing a handful of that perfect ass. As my dick started to recognize what my brain was saying, we’d reached her car, and she stopped to turn to me.

“Are you looking at my ass?” she asked me, point blank.

Speechless, with my dick straining against my jeans, I stumbled over what to say. How did she know?

“I.. uh.. NO,” I managed to lie.

She started laughing hysterically, and opened the trunk. “I’m just teasing you. I figured you deserved it, after making fun of my food intake.”

Relieved, and laughing back, I began piling the things she bought into the trunk. As I was unloading, I noticed a bunch of art supplies. Canvases, a bag of brushes, and what looked like a bag of paints as well.

When I’d finished, I asked, “Are you an artist?” I wanted to get to know her, why she was in this little town, what she was doing. Anything.

Pursing her lips, she replied, “Why would you ask that?” She didn’t seem annoyed, but by the expression on her face, I may have entered dangerous territory again, and wanted to tread lightly.

“I noticed the art supplies in your trunk.” I kept my reply short.

Her tense muscles appeared to relax a little and her lips formed a small smile. “I’m an art teacher, actually.” She closed the trunk I was standing in front of and tilted her head, observing me. “Well, thanks for the help…” She paused.

“Flynn,” I replied.

“Hmm, Flynn. Nice name.” She turned and opened the driver’s side door of the old Honda Civic. “Thanks for the help, Flynn.” And with that, she hopped in the car and took off, never giving me her name.

That night, I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering about the mysterious art teacher. Was she here to work in the school? Did she just move here? Her sass had driven a chisel right through my rough exterior in a matter of moments, and I was obsessed with finding out who she was.