Hardware Romance

It was after closing time again. The clatter of the final cart echoed across the empty aisles. She was organizing paint samples, lining up the color swatches with a precision that Ethan had noticed from day one — one of the reasons he’d hired her. She had an eye for detail, the kind he trusted to keep things running smoothly.

He twisted the lock on the front doors, letting the satisfying click echo through the near-silent store. When he turned, she was still fussing with a display of sample cans, nudging them into perfect rows like it had been bothering her all day.

“You know,” he said, leaning a hip against the service counter, “most people clock out before they start color-coding the rainbow.”

She shot him a look — not defensive, not annoyed, just tired but sharp. “Look who’s talking.”

He crossed his arms, a small grin pulling at the edge of his mouth. “I was going to leave on time.”

“Sure you were,” she scoffed. She’d only been here a few months, but she knew him better than that already. The man probably had a hidden cot in the break room to crash on if he needed to.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Hey, I know how to go home.”

“Right. Like you know how to take a day off,” she teased, aligning one last paint can with exaggerated precision.

He let the playful jab land, his grin fading to something gentler. “Can’t help it. Feels like there’s always more to do.”

She glanced at him then, the faintest flicker of understanding in her eyes. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

“Alright,” he said, pushing a breath out, “let’s get out of here before one of us finds something else to straighten.”

She stepped outside, casting one last look over her shoulder at the store, eyes scanning the aisles like she might rush back in to tweak something else. Ethan was faster, twisting the key in the lock with a definitive click before either of them could change their minds.

“Nope,” he said, pocketing the keys with a smirk. “Store’s closed. We’re off duty.”

She huffed a short laugh, resigned. “Guess that’s one way to stop me.”

“And me,” he added.

They walked into the lot, their footsteps echoing on the empty pavement. The overhead lights buzzed faintly above them, casting long shadows toward their cars.

He offered a small, genuine smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Ethan.”

He stayed where he was, watching her cross the lot to her car. Waited until she pulled out and the glow of her taillights disappeared down the street before turning toward his own truck.

---

Over the next few months, Ethan started dating another woman. It didn’t matter to her — why would it? His personal life was none of her business. But little by little, she couldn’t help noticing the changes. His phone lit up more than before, buzzing with messages that made him rub at his temples or mutter under his breath. And then there was the girlfriend herself — stopping by nearly every day, breezing past the checkout to lean over his counter with a sugary voice that turned sharp if he was distracted.

Sometimes he took her into his office for hushed arguments that seemed to leave him more drained than before. The other woman would storm out now and then, all angry heels and perfume, while Ethan lingered behind the office door with his head in his hands.

He still left mostly on time these days, she’d give him that. But he was always in early — unlocking the doors, resetting floor displays, catching up on paperwork — almost like home had started to feel smaller and smaller.

She watched all of it from a quiet distance. She told herself it didn’t affect her, and that he’d figure it out. But something about the tension on his face when the phone rang made her chest twist in a way she didn’t want to name.

One evening, as she restocked a bin of lightbulbs near his office, she caught the end of another argument through the half-closed door — muffled voices, then the sound of the girlfriend leaving in a huff. Ethan stepped out moments later, shoulders tense, trying to pull on a calm expression.

“Hey,” she said quietly, breaking her own rule. “Not my business…but you okay?”

He managed a small, tired smile. “Yeah. Just…hard to explain to her this isn’t just a job to me.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s your career.”

“Exactly. But she still doesn’t get it,” he tried to brush it off like it was nothing.

“I guess she doesn’t like her job,” she tried to joke, hoping to lighten the moment. “I just mean if you like doing something, you don’t want to leave. Or can’t, because the chains on your desk aren’t long enough,” she chuckled.

He actually laughed, a real one this time, shoulders dropping just a fraction. “Yeah,” he agreed, “you’d know a thing or two about that.”

She looked down at her hands, miming invisible chains. “Longer than my last job.”

He laughed again, softer this time, and for a second the heavy cloud around him seemed to lift.

“Well,” he said, a little more at ease, “glad you’re stuck with us, then.”

“Only ’cause you have the key,” she shot back, almost flirtatious — before she realized it and glanced away, cheeks warming.

He paused, a flicker of surprise on his face, then gave a small, crooked smile. “Maybe,” he said, voice low, “but I wouldn’t lock you in if you wanted out.”

She shook her head, willing her heartbeat to slow. He’s confused, she reminded herself. And whatever that was…was nothing.

Ethan turned back toward his office, and she exhaled, forcing herself to get back to work.

---

Two days later, the ex showed up at the worst possible time — right before the lunch rush, when customers were packed three deep at the counter and half the staff was behind on stocking. She breezed in with a bright, brittle smile that didn’t match her eyes, scanning the floor until she spotted Ethan near the paint department.

“Didn’t they break up?” one of the younger cashiers whispered to another. She hadn’t heard — she’d been off the day before — and looked up just in time to see the ex zero in on Ethan, her steps quick and sharp.

“Hey, everyone!” the ex called, pitching her voice high enough to carry across the aisles.

Ethan froze, clipboard clutched tight against his chest.

“Just so you all know,” the ex announced, smiling wide, “Ethan and I are done.” She gestured to the shelves with a dramatic wave. “Because apparently this place is more important than me!”

A couple of customers exchanged uncomfortable glances. The ex wasn’t finished. “So congratulations, hardware store,” she added, sweeping a sarcastic bow, “you win!”

She spun on her heel and stomped out, the automatic doors hissing shut behind her. A stunned hush settled over the store.

Ethan escaped to the back, face pale, and didn’t come out for nearly an hour. When he did, he looked like he’d barely slept.

She found him near the stockroom, alone. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Sorry about today.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks.”

She bit her lip. “Just one question,” she pushed gently. “You two knew each other before, right? So she was aware of what she was getting into?”

He let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. I told her exactly how I am. Guess she thought she could change it.”

“Why? That’s exactly who you are, Ethan. Which means total respect. Most people think just getting off the couch is ambitious.”

His eyes flicked to hers, surprised, and for a moment that heavy frustration seemed to ease. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re really something.”

She felt her cheeks warm, realizing how forward that sounded. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

“No,” he said, softer now. “Don’t apologize. I…appreciate it.”

For a heartbeat, Ethan had the urge to kiss her. Just one moment of connection, of feeling understood. But she was his employee, and he’d just sworn off dating. So he buried the feeling and gave a polite nod instead.

---

The next week, the new owner arrived. A man who’d once trained Ethan years before, back when he was seventeen or eighteen and learning the ropes. The moment he stepped through the doors, Ethan stiffened. His posture went rigid, voice clipped. It was like seeing the mold that had formed him — the voice in his head that wouldn’t let him stop.

The owner rattled off a list of plans: bigger displays, bolder colors, more product stacked higher, a store that "popped" from the second you walked in. Her head was spinning by the third page of scribbled notes. Where was this all supposed to go?

Ethan tried to stay composed, but the tension was back. She saw it clearly now: the patterns never faded, she’d just never known the mentor behind them before.

After the owner left, Ethan found her by the paint aisle. “You good?” he asked, cautious.

She nodded. “I’m fine. But — I think we can get through it together.”

He blinked, relief flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. Together.”

---

They looked at the owner’s sketches and lists, heads spinning. Bigger displays, tighter traffic flow, stock levels that made no sense. It was overwhelming.

“Where do we even start?” she asked, bewildered.

Ethan shook his head. “I have no idea. Half of these don’t even fit. The other half —” he gestured at a fifteen-foot grill drawn for a ten-foot aisle, “— they’re impossible.”

She blew out a breath. “So what do we do?”

He gave a tired grin. “We start with what’s actually possible. And fake the rest.”

She chuckled. “Fake it till we make it?”

“Pretty much,” Ethan sighed, grabbing a pen. “We’re going to be here a while.”

---

Before they even touched a shelf, they spent hours reworking the owner’s plans into something close to reality, running a few of their revisions by him and crossing their fingers. By the time they got started, they were on version three.

Ethan wanted to cram a ton of stock on tiny shelves near the door. She tried to reason with him. “Ethan, this isn’t going to fit here. Why not these bigger shelves?”

“I want people to see it the second they walk in,” he insisted.

“Sure, but we can get six on a shelf tops, two products of six, and everything else stays in the warehouse. We’ll be restocking constantly. If we go bigger, more product, less restocking.”

“Yeah, but it’s the featured item. It needs to go here.”

She sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to win this one yet. So she helped him set up the first two shelves exactly as he pictured it. Sure enough, within an hour, it was empty, and three customers complained about missing sizes.

Ethan came back from helping someone load a cart, frowning. “Oh, we need bigger shelves.”

She couldn’t hide her grin. “So next time I say bigger shelves, we can skip this part?” she teased, moving the remaining stock off the tiny display.

Ethan laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, you win.”

The best part? The owner liked the final layout, so at least they wouldn’t have to do it a third time.