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That stung more than Chuck liked. “Fair enough. Enjoy the coffee.” He turned to go.
“Wait up.” Niall’s voice caught Chuck right as he reached the door. “I didn’t mean—” He stopped, visibly uncomfortable. “That came out harsher than I meant it to.”
Chuck turned and waited, hands in his pockets.
“The truth is,” Niall said, “this place needs help. I’ve been putting off repairs because I can’t afford them, but if I don’t do something soon, I might have to close.”
There it was. The opening. “Let me help,” Chuck replied, mellow but insistent. “No strings. I need something to keep my hands busy, and you need the work done.”
Niall shook his head, but not like he meant it. “I can’t pay you.”
“Did I ask for payment?”
“We didn’t get that far,” Niall muttered, sounding more grim than Chuck expected.
Chuck remembered how Jeremy always kept a running tally of every favor, every IOU, every slight. “That’s not how I work,” he said. “Not for this.”
Niall stared at him, searching for a catch, but Chuck just waited. Finally, Niall let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. The roof’s leaking in three places. I’ve been using buckets. You can look at it, if you want.”
“Happy to. When do you want me to start?”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
That almost got a smile out of Niall. His mouth twitched, and for a second he seemed younger, less weighed down. “You could swing by after closing tomorrow. Around six? My daughter’s got an after-school thing up at Paper Bag, so it would be just us.”
Just us. Chuck heard the words come out of Niall and watched him wish he could yank them back and close the lid.
“I’ll be here,” Chuck promised, pointing at the floor. “With tools.”
“I have tools,” Niall protested, but it was halfhearted.
“Duct tape and prayer aren’t tools, Niall.”
That did it—a real, if brief, smile. “I have a hammer somewhere.”
“I rest my case. Tomorrow at six.” Chuck raised his coffee in a mock toast and backed out, feeling more pleased than he had any right to.
Amber looked up as he emerged. “You’re smiling. Did he throw something at you? Last week he threw a stapler at the electric company guy.”
He was still looking at the office door, so he made himself turn to the counter. “No throwing. Just repairs.”
She looked disappointed. “That’s boring.”
“Sometimes boring is best.” Chuck didn’t believe that for a second. Nothing boring about how Niall’s eyes creased when he almost smiled, or the stubborn set of his jaw when he talked about the shop.
As he walked down Madrone Street, Chuck caught himself whistling.
He had a purpose now—a task to focus on beside his own spectacular failure. And if that purpose meant spending time with a sharp bookstore owner with trust issues and a killer smile, well, that was a bonus.
Let them think what they wanted. Chuck Mitchum was back in Candle Bay, and this time, he was going to be the one fixing things instead of breaking them.
Even if what he really wanted to do was mess up Niall Ashworth’s tidy life, just a little.
Chapter 3
NIALL SPENT most of Wednesday in a state of low-grade panic, alternating between convincing himself he’d made a terrible mistake in accepting Chuck’s help and trying to make the bookstore feel less like a disaster zone.
