Chapter 11
CHARLIE
As I settle in at my new job, everything is perfect.
Almost perfect. The job is going great. Brad and I have managed to keep our relationship a secret at work.
Demo days are the hardest. Watching Brad swing a sledgehammer in a tank with sweat dripping everywhere.
Well, it might not sound sexy, but it is.
There are still some hiccups at work. Not going over budget, but learning about home renovations so I don’t look clueless.
And not reacting to Pete’s homophobic mutterings.
I haven’t mentioned it to Raja. So far, it’s just been a few remarks here and there.
And I’m not sure what worries me more: Pete getting out of hand, or Brad punching the guy.
Brad is amazing. He’s been opening up lately and talking about his past relationships.
I was surprised to find he’s only had a few.
But if we’re talking hookups, that’s a different story.
I told him about Syd, but I didn’t give him any identifying information.
I don’t need Brad taking care of things for me.
Our families still don’t know. It’s not easy to hide since we’re so close, and I know we can’t hide forever.
I’ve avoided the topic when Brad brings it up.
I want to wait until after their anniversary party.
Valentine’s Day. I don’t want to spoil their day.
That’s the unselfish reason. The selfish reason is I want a Valentine.
Not the card but the man. And if he has to choose between his best friend for the last twenty-five years or me?
Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t blame him for choosing my dad.
Between work, getting my apartment unboxed, and planning the anniversary party, we’ve been very busy.
And the nights with Brad have been amazing.
He’s patient and kind, and sometimes I have to remind him I won’t break.
That’s probably why we’ve done almost everything but anal.
Brad is worried about hurting me. But I’m ready. More than ready.
We’ve also discovered we share a love of thrift stores. I save every penny I can. Unlike me, Brad isn’t particularly thrifty.
There are several stores in the area, from the usual ones to more offbeat shops filled with antiques and junk.
School got out early today, so we’ve spent the afternoon wandering through a thrift store on the outskirts of Dundy County.
Brad checks out an old sewing machine, but eventually decides he needs a couple of rusted saws.
“What are these for?”
His only answer is a smile as he tugs me into the next aisle. This one is filled with old vinyl records in milk crates.
He thumbs through several, pulling out albums and slipping them back in. He laughs and holds up The Slim Shady LP. “I loved this album. I listened to Eminem all through college, believe it or not, while my friends were into Garth Brooks and Tim McGraw.”
“You rebel.” I knock my shoulder against his. “When was this album released?”
“1999.” He studies it, getting lost in some memory.
I tug on his hand. “That was a good year.”
He glances at me. “Yeah?”
I smile innocently. “It’s the year I learned to walk.”
He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “God, I’m old.”
Laughing, I squeeze his hand. “Come on, old man. Let’s get you home before you get too tired out.”
“I’m fine.”
I wiggle my brows. “I was thinking a nap is in order.”
We check out and make it to his house in record time. I’ve been to Brad’s house before, mostly on the weekends when Harper is at work. Today, she’s working a double shift.
But instead of going into the house, Brad leads me out to the garage.
He’s turned it into a shop with a workbench and everything.
Tools of all kinds line the wall, along with various things he’s made, including several old saws he’s painted or repurposed.
It’s not just one type of thing either. Shelves are filled with things he’s made or repurposed.
Carved signs. Old railroad ties. Brass school bells.
I trace my fingers over the shelves. “Did you make these too?”
“Some I made. Others I found and refinished. I love working with my hands.”
“I remember.” And before he can take it the wrong way, I add, “Shop— I mean, Industrial Arts.”
“You struggled in my class.”
I don’t want to talk about that. “True. But you’re good at it.” I bring his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. “So hot.”
He laughs and wraps me in his arms. This kiss promises more. I cup his face and trace the lines around his eyes. “I love a man who knows how to use his hands.”
“Tour’s over.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the house. “I have another room to show you.”
“Better than the shop?” I ask. Once we’re inside, he guides me through his living room and hallway. “I think I’ve seen this room.”
He pulls me into his bedroom, closes the door, and presses me against it so I can feel his erection poking my hip. “It might be worth your time to see it again.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure.” I wrap my hand around his huge cock, loving the sounds spilling from his mouth. “But you have all night to convince me.”
And I’m not surprised at all that Brad is up to the task.
Saturday, February 7th
The renovations are coming along, but we’re a bit behind schedule.
Not much, but one setback could really hurt us.
Doing renovations in the wintertime isn’t ideal, but we’ve accounted for that and added a cushion for weather in our calculations.
It’s Saturday, so the majority of our volunteers will be here today at some point.
Last night we went back to my place, and Brad stayed over. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, which included Brad on his knees for me. Then we had to rush to get ready. Of course, we drove separately to the site.
I could get used to waking up in Brad’s arms every day.
But I’m not sure that’s what Brad wants.
He told me up front he wasn’t really a relationship guy.
And how would my parents react? My dad? Tomorrow’s the Super Bowl, and Mom and Dad always have a party.
I hate hiding this from them, but why ruin a twenty-five-year-old friendship if this is only temporary? A fling.
Many of the rooms downstairs have to be gutted.
I’m amazed at the volunteers we have. People are willing to work their asses off for no pay during their time off from their actual jobs.
I stop and chat with Kim and Mike. They’ve been married for twenty years, and they volunteer together.
Relationship goals. The kitchen cabinets are in good shape, so they’re removing those and setting them aside to be sanded later.
We want to save as much of the house as we can.
As I check on progress, I save the area Brad is working in for last. Am I torturing myself or rewarding myself for my restraint?
He’s taken off the flannel shirt he put on this morning, and his white T-shirt is soaked in sweat.
Damn. Who knew removing baseboards could be so sexy?
He pulls up the last one in the room, his muscles working very hard.
And then he adds the boards to the pile.
Those will be picked over to see what can be salvaged.
He wipes his face with the end of his shirt, exposing his stomach.
He’s muscled with a little padding around the belly that I love.
Gray hair mixes with black. It’s not fair that older men are so damn hot.
“Hey, Chas?” Gary’s voice jerks me out of my inappropriate thoughts. I turn toward him, ignoring Brad’s snort. Thankfully, my project supervisor doesn’t notice my drooling. “Are we pulling up the carpets in the back bedroom today?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.” We have another week or so of demo, then we can start rebuilding.
We’ve had volunteers drop out here and there, but the crew we have now has been somewhat stable.
Except for Pete. He’s supposed to be here today and isn’t.
Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’s always been disrespectful.
Rude. But lately, his work has been sloppy.
I’d be fine with him voluntarily dropping out.
“I’m done here,” Brad says, wiping his face again, and I swear he’s doing that on purpose. “I can help.”
Gary sends a few guys to join us in the bedroom, and wow, that sounds dirtier than it is. With the four of us working together, it doesn’t take long to get all the carpet up and out of the house. I’d hoped for wood under the carpet, but instead, it’s old tile.
“You want us to take up the tile?” one of the volunteers asks. Brad shuffles his feet and crosses his arms. It’s not overly noticeable, but I’m getting pretty good at reading him.
“What do you think, Brad?” I ask.
His eyes widen. Did I surprise him? He recovers quickly. “Sometimes old tile can contain asbestos.”
I groan and call Gary. He confirms that we need to have the tiles tested. It’s only Gary and me in the room when I call Raja.
“Send everyone home until we get this checked out,” Raja says in their no-nonsense voice. “When we get the results, we can reassess.” I nod even though they can’t see me as I calculate how far this might set us back. “If it is asbestos, Chas, removal could take weeks.”
“Weeks?”
“The removal doesn’t take weeks. It’s more of a scheduling issue.”
After the call, I take a deep breath. The project would be on hold for weeks. No one doing anything. By then, we’d be so behind…
“Are you okay?” Gary asks.
“Yup.” This is adulting. Dealing with setbacks.
Yelling comes from the main area of the house. Gary and I take off, darting around equipment and workers. Adrenaline surges through me and my heart pounds faster. I recognize the man yelling. Pete.
But when we get to the front room, I’m not prepared. My heart is in my throat. Pete is screaming at Brad and poking him in the chest. “Fuck off, Coach. You’re not in charge!”
“You’re in no shape—”
I interrupt Brad because he’s not in charge. I need to handle this. “What’s going on?” My voice has an edge. The thought of Brad getting hurt—putting himself in that position…
But this close to Pete, I can see the problem. Smell the problem. He glares at me through bloodshot eyes. His clothes are wrinkled, and the smell of alcohol is unmistakable.
“Brad’s right, Pete—”
“Is he your little fuckbuddy?” His words are slurred but still clear enough for everyone to hear.
Heat flushes my face, but it’s more anger than anything, and it has nothing to do with Brad. What we’re doing is important. And this jerkwad isn’t going to ruin it.
“Go home and sober up. Then we can talk—”
“I’m not fucking talking to some pansy ass.”
I straighten my back and stand tall. I didn’t want to do this here, but he’s leaving me no choice. “Fine. You’re done. Don’t come back.”
“You can’t fire me.”
I ignore him and walk to the middle of the room. A crowd has formed and that works in our favor. Gary is off to the side, his lips pressed together. I push away the panic. Does anyone believe Pete’s ranting? Doesn’t matter. This is what’s important.
“Is everyone here?” I ask, and Gary nods.
“Thank you all for working so hard today.” I don’t check to see if Pete left or not.
“Unfortunately, I have to send everyone home.” Several grumble and a few swear at Pete.
“Let me clarify. We have the possibility of asbestos in some of the floor tiles. We can’t have anyone on-site until we know it’s safe to continue working. ”
There’s a sudden shuffling in the back, and Pete says, “Let me go.”
My eyes dart to where Brad was standing. He’s still there. Thank God.
“Pete, let’s just go, man.”
“No. He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.”
That’s the only warning I get before Pete’s pushing his way through the crowd and in my face. I don’t flinch, and Pete sneers. I can’t see Brad, but I can feel him, ready to jump in. And instead of it being irritating that he thinks I can’t handle this, it’s reassuring.
Pete grabs my shoulders. I try to push him off, but he’s stronger than I expect. Everyone’s watching. I focus on Pete.
“Let’s talk about this,” I say, but a punch to the stomach doubles me over in pain. I feel like I’m going to throw up. And that’s the part that bothers me the most.