He’s teasing me, a wicked glimmer in his eyes, and I get the urge to give it back to him.

“That’s good to know. I would hate to have spent so much money on props for my porno, only to find out power tools aren’t sexy.” I keep a straight face through the delivery.

Warner’s mouth drops open, then morphs into a delighted grin.

“You’re not helping. He’s already hell to deal with on a normal day,” Rebecca mutters as she sets my bags on the counter.

“Apologies.”

Damn, I was so focused on flirting with Warner that I forgot I was standing in front of his mother. Besides, I shouldn’t be flirting. He might think I’m interested in something more than friendship. Which I am definitely not.

“Ruining my fun, Mom,” Warner murmurs, still wearing a happy smile. “So, how does our small-town hardware store compare to the retail giants in Denver?”

“This place has everything I need—and more than I can afford.” I glance back at the aisles, trying to stifle my longing. “I might be back for that table saw after I sell a few organs.”

Rebecca smirks as she prints my receipt.

“The MacGyver? You can borrow mine.” Warner moves closer, his gaze tracing over me, leaving a disconcerting tingle in its wake. “I might have a few more tools you can use if you want.”

Was that supposed to have a double meaning?

Either way, now, my mind is focused on one particular tool Warner carries with him at all times. And all the ways I could use it.

“You trying to take my business from me?” Rebecca scowls at her son, but there’s a smile in her eyes.

“Of course not. Just being neighborly.” He walks around the counter to press a kiss to her cheek before hefting one of my bags off the counter. “I’m on my lunch break. Wanna grab a sandwich, Mystery Woman?” He circles back around to crouch down in front of Bruce, scratching behind his floppy ears. “Or should I ask your man for permission?”

I snort, loading my arms up with the rest of my new materials. “Bruce knows I’m done with domineering men. He’s happy to follow my lead as long as I’m handing out treats along the way.”

When I tilt under the weight of one of my bags, Warner stands and goes to grab it. I turn, holding the bag just out of his reach.

“How am I going to get strong enough to carry it if you take it from me?”

Warner pauses, staring down at me as if fascinated with what he sees. Then, his grin comes back, wide and welcoming and too handsome for any man. “You’re right. Sorry ’bout that.”

His reaction is as refreshing as my dad’s homemade lemonade. Nothing like what my brothers would’ve done.