Page 10 of On the Shelf

At precisely six o’clock, a knock sounded on the front door. Niall caught himself smiling. He opened up and there stood Chuck, toolbox in one hand, pizza box in the other. The smell hit him first—Tazzarone’s, unmistakable.

“I brought dinner.” Chuck lifted the pizza, eyes crinkling. “Figured you’d be famished.”

Niall stepped aside to let him in, unexpectedly touched. “Thanks. I should be the one feeding you.”

“No big deal. I was passing them on my way here.” Chuck set the box on the counter and flashed a crooked grin. “You can pay me back with a tour.”

Niall ducked his head. “Deal.” Chuck’s easy smile made it impossible not to relax. He gestured toward the back room, suddenly shy. “Want to see the damage?”

“Lead on, MacDuff.” Chuck nodded, already glancing around the shop. “Place looks great. Did you clean up for me?”

“I clean,” Niall lied. “It’s a business.”

Chuck’s eyes sparkled, but he let it go. “So, show me these leaks.”

Niall led him through the store, pointing out the water stains on the ceiling and the buckets situated on the top of certain shelves for rainy days. Chuck listened and asked questions about when the leaks had started and how bad they got during storms.

“I need to get up on the roof.” Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets. “Get a better idea of what’s happening up there.”

“Is that safe? It’s pretty steep.”

“I’ve worked on worse. Got a ladder?”

“In the back.” Niall led him to the tiny storage room behind the office. An ancient aluminum ladder leaned against the wall. “It’s not sturdy.”

“It’ll work fine.” Chuck grabbed it like it weighed nothing. “Show me the way, captain.”

They stepped out the back door into the cramped alley behind the shop. Chuck set up the ladder against the wall and gave it a shake to test it.

“Hold this steady,” he said, and before Niall could answer, Chuck was already climbing, moving with easy confidence. “I’m a leaper, not a looker.”

Says you. Niall clamped his hands around the ladder, trying not to notice Chuck’s jeans pulling tight across his muscular haunches as he climbed. It had been a long time since Niall let himself look at someone that way. A long time since anyone made him forget the ladder he was supposed to be holding.

Not since Elise left, if he was honest. Six years of focusing on Winnie and the store, six years of telling himself he was fine, telling himself a good Friday was takeout and a kid asleep by nine with no nightmares.

And now here was Chuck Mitchum, climbing his rickety ladder and bringing him a crispy, delicious thin crust, and the careful little life he’d built suddenly felt one size too small.

“Roof’s in way worse shape than I thought,” Chuck called down. “Hoo boy. Shingles are shot in several places. When was the last time it was redone?”

“No idea. Before I took over, for sure. I guess that could have been fifty years ago. Sorry.”

He nodded. “No. I get it. I dig these old Victorians, but they are hell to keep up.”

“Tell me about it. So… diagnosis?”

“It needs a full replacement in a couple years for sure, but we can patch it for now.” Chuck climbed down, skipped the last few rungs, and landed right next to Niall. “Got any roofing tar?”

“Not unless it’s hidden behind the Christmas decorations.”

Chuck grinned. “Hardware store still open?”

“Closes at seven.”

“Then we better scoot.” Chuck checked his watch. “My truck’s out front. If we go now, we’ll make it.”

“I can’t just leave the store—”

“It’s after hours, Niall. Sign says you close at six.”