Chapter 5: How'd You Get a Key?

I race around the track, drop off another package, and hit the buzzer as I pass. The ding from the victory bells turns into a hard knock, and I peek around questioning where the noise comes from. It happens again, this time bringing me out of my dream, and I open my eyes to the dark room around me.

I'm wrapped up in the white quilt from the spare bedroom. It would make more sense to claim the master bedroom, but Gertie's possessions are still in there, looking like she'll return at any moment. This room feels like mine. It's the one where I spent summers curled up in the thick comforter and propped against the light blue familiar walls reading a book.

The knocks come again, but this time there's a male voice yelling from somewhere out front. "You up, Tabitha?"

It's another three point four seconds before I recognize it as Ridge's voice. Then I'm up and out of bed, tugging my brown hair back into a proper ponytail. I hightail it out of the bedroom to find him standing in my kitchen.

"How'd you get in here?" He gave me the key last night.

He holds up his massive key ring. "Gertie's spare. I told you she lost her keys a lot. Nice shorts." His eyes fall to the tiny lime green gym shorts I wore to bed last night.

Still partaking in my mini freak out, I notice the chill of the room and wrap my arms around my chest to help cover up the tiny spaghetti strap tank top. "Um. Yo... see." I try to form words, but they come out a jumbled mess before I get it together. "Let me go change my clothes."

"Don't worry. I stopped by to drop off coffee since you're sans pot. I'll be in and out of town all day."

"Lots of security business to take care of?" It's then I notice the oversized white coffee mug sitting on the counter behind him. I practically lunge at it not at all concerned how it makes me appear. "What time is it?" My first sip is cautious and I breathe in the aroma of God's brew.

"Five."

My eyes widen. No wonder the house is dark. The sun isn't even up yet. No one should get up before the sun. I turn the coffee mug to warm up my other hand and notice there's writing on the side. "I drink coffee for your security" is written in thick black letters across the side.

"My dad's idea of a joke. I didn't know how you like it, but I have sugar or creamer too."

"Me? No, I'm good." I wave off his concern and take another sip the liquid still too hot to gulp like I want.

He laughs, but I'm too engrossed in my beverage to check if the skin around his eyes crinkled this time.

"Where are you going this early in the morning?" I ask.

"Here and there. I'll be in Bay Harbor this afternoon. Your plans?"

"Oh this and that. Thought I'd pop into the hardware store and pick up new door locks." Ridge looks down at his keys and frowns until I laugh at his expression. "I'm kidding. I do need to pick up paint, a few candles. Unpack my boxes." A smart woman would change the locks, but I'm not overly smart when hot neighbors are involved.

"You know how to get to the hardware store?" he asks moving toward the door.

"Of course. I spent summers here, remember? Besides Pelican Bay is like four streets. It's hard to get lost." Let's leave out the fact I did just that last night.

He laughs. "Have fun at the hardware store. Make sure you say hi to Mack, but don't get too close. Half the town is in love with him and I'm willing to throw down if needed." He stops half-way out the door. "If you need any help or anything comes up, call me. I left a card on the table."

I pick up the black piece of card stock. His name, Ridge Jefferson, and a phone number are the single pieces of information written in a silver lettering. The back is empty. The door closes and I watch Ridge walk out of my back yard.

...

Pelican Bay Hardware looks like any small town hardware store. If you've never had the privilege of visiting one, picture white tile floors with rows and rows of various hardware items like screws, nails, and other... well, hardware shit. With spring on the way bags of mulch and dirt are piled up along the store front on Pine Street. I don't spend much time in stores you can't find in malls, so my description might lack a few key points.

A bell dings as I walk in, and the lights are brighter than the sky outside even though it's past nine.

"Morning," a husky thick voice calls out from behind a long customer service counter directly in front of the glass door.

I stop in my tracks a few steps into the building, overwhelmed by which way to turn.

"You look lost. What can I help you find?" The man from behind the counter stands beside me highlighting our height difference. Is everyone in this town tall? He must be at least 6'2". His hair cut shorter on the sides, but longer on the top and swept to the left. There's a hint of grey showing on the edges and around his ears. Is there an expression for a male version of a MILF? Father I'd like to fuck? FILF. It doesn't have the same ring.

"Um. I'm looking for paint." His bright blue eyes meet mine and he smiles down before leading me to the back of the store.

"Oh I also need to get a key copied."

He stops us in front of a large paint display, the little pieces of colored paper sticking out and sorted by color shades. "No problem. I'm Mack. Head back to the front desk once you pick colors and I'll mix you up a gallon."

I nod but keep my focus on the paint samples. So this is Mack? I totally see what Ridge meant when he said half the town loves him. For a man in his late fifties, he's hot. I'd let him stir me up any time.

Half-way through selecting a nice calm blue color for the master bedroom, my phone goes crazy. Beeps and dings sound off one on top of the other. I reach into my back pocket and pull it out. My Facebook has blown up. Little f logos take up the entire top of my notifications row. There are nineteen missed calls. I don't open it and see who.

I know.