It was a minefield. Who knew nails came in so many different sizes? Certainly not you, but after buying a beautiful lakeside house that upon closer inspection seemed to be actually falling into the lake you had a feeling you were going to become accustomed to nail sizes and the tiny hardware store that lived the centre of town.
You placed your box of nails next to the roof tiles, superglue and lengths of wood that were already in your cart.
"You ever actually fixed a roof before?"
The voice was all smoke and masculinity and when you turned around to see who it belonged to you weren't disappointed. You're eyes landed squarely on a shiney sheriff's badge before your gaze drifted up to find the matching sheriffs hat and a smile that was just about verging on a smirk.
"Is it really that obvious?"
He nodded to the cart, his hand resting on the pistol that was snug against his hip, "you picked up the wrong size nails."
You felt a blush spreading across your cheeks, partly because you hated being wrong but mostly because you hated being called out by a man that made your heart flip flop like it had forgotten how to beat. "Now this is what I call public service, fighting crime one bad DIY job at a time," you teased to make yourself feel better about the firetruck red of your cheeks.
"We don't get much crime around here, unless you count last years case of smashed pumpkin's. Although I'm pretty sure it was a raccoon that was responsible for that and this might be Georgia but I'm not gonna arrest a racoon no matter how many violations he makes," he grinned, his smile offset by dimples that made him as adorable as he was handsome.
Jesus, you were suddenly very aware of your ripped jeans and chipped toenail polish. In fact, you could barely even keep eye contact with him as he handed you the correct box, your fingers almost grazing and your heart jumping around like he'd taken your hand and proposed you runaway with him.
"A six pack of beer and a homecooked meal," he said and your gaze quickly flicked back to his.
"Excuse me?"
"I could help you fix your roof for free but I'd rather be fed and watered first."
There was something in the way he said, something in the way he smiled or maybe it was because you were acting like a complete fool but you got the feeling that he got women to cook and water him anytime he wanted. You put your hand on your hip, tilting your head to the side with just smallest hint of sass, "and how do you know I can cook?"
He held up his hands, "I just know I can't. Unless I wanna eat leftover spaghetti for the third night in a row."
Maybe Sheriff Handsome didn't get all the girls afterall.
He extended his hand, "I should introduce myself. I'm Negan, and I don't just dress up like this to offer advice and get invited round for dinner. I really am the sheriff and I really do fight crime one bad DIY job at a time."
And just like that, you were blushing again and you found you didn't mind it as much this time. Sheriff Handsome was charming and it was nice to feel charmed.
A woman in overalls approached the sheriff, her employee badge read 'Marleen' and her glossy red lips leered at him like he was a stick of gum she wanted to get her teeth around. "This what you were looking for, Hun?"
Negan took the box, turning it over in his hands, "that'll be it. Thank you, sweetheart."
You liked the way he turned his attention back to you, leaving Marleen standing uselessly by his side. "Have we got a deal?"
"Food for labour," you pretended to consider it, "I suppose it sounds fair." It sounded amazing.
"Alright," his eyes twinkled in a way that matched his dimples. "I'll see you tomorrow, how's midday sound?"
"It sounds fine."
"I'll be seeing you then and thanks, Marleen, you'll put this on my tab won't you sweetheart?" he held up the box.
"Anything for you, Hun."
You didn't even try to hide the face you pulled and when Sheriff Handsome urned to leave you realised you hadn't even told him any details of how to find you, "don't you wanna know my name and address?"
Negan glanced back over his shoulder, "I know who you are darlin', this is a small town and you buying the old Monroe place is the biggest news since the great pumpkin smash." He laughed at the memory of it, tipping his hat and winking.
You weren't above watching his butt as he left and when he rounded the corner you noticed you weren't the only one. Marleen's cherry red smile spread from cheek to cheek, her eyes narrowing when they turned to you, "you better take a ticket and get in line, sweetheart."
"I don't see any line," you replied cooly, your smile just as sweet as hers. The way she glared at you only made you more interested in getting to know Negan a whole lot better.
When you were loading your supplies into your car, your mind whirred with ideas of what you were going to cook for Sheriff Negan. You wanted it to be hearty but tasty, effortless but exquisite and when you slammed the lid of the trunk down you found yourself laughing at your overzealous plans. Sheriff Handsome would get what he was given just like any other guest you cooked for. You weren't about to go tripping over his dimples like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
Crush, you cringed at the word and couldn't remember the last time you'd crushed on a man that wasn't contained to the silver screen but then you couldn't remember ever meeting any too handsome to be true handy dandy sheriff's before either.