Chapter 23 Noah
Noah
“It’s exactly five-thirty. You do that on purpose?” Brad mutters under his breath, eyes flicking from his watch to me as I walk down the steps.
Okay, so I might have waited until the very last second before making it downstairs. I also might have done it for this exact reason. Seeing his face stern, his jaw clenching, the way his eyes seem to betray him as they gaze down my body.
I bite back a smile. He gets so grouchy in the morning.
I remember what other emotion he gets in the morning, but before my thoughts gravitate to old memories, I fight against it.
I’m still more than pissed that he’s been stonewalling me since I got here. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that thought he’d sneak into my room last night—that I’d wake up to his lips on my neck or something.
Instead, he’s sticking to this whole I don’t care bullshit. It’s a crock of shit, and he knows it.
I know it hasn’t even been a full day since I arrived, but still… I’m already getting impatient.
“On time is late.” He tosses an apple at me.
I catch it in one hand. “What’s this?”
“Breakfast. Now, let’s go.” He turns to leave, opening the door for us.
***
“So, where are we headed?” I ask, my knee bouncing up and down. I can’t deny that I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been a handy type of guy. And now I’ve got to act as if I am in front of Brad and his work crew. It’s a lot of pressure.
“Just off of highway seven, there’s a new subdivision going up. We’ve been hired to tear down and rebuild some affordable homes.” Brad explains.
“And you’re actually expecting me to know what to do?”
A small smile lifts the corner of his lips. I see it. It’s there. “Just watch today. Don’t need you hurting yourself.”
“Hm,” I answer back casually. I take this opportunity to look over at him. One hand on the wheel, he sits back in his seat like he’s fully prepared.
“Until we get you suited up properly, we probably shouldn’t have you operating anything either,” he says, giving me a quick look over.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, sitting back and taking a look at my outfit.
I had no idea what to wear, so I settled on some black cargo pants and an oversized black sweatshirt.
He’s wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt under a beige Carhartt jacket.
“Your shoes should be steel-toe, and don’t even get me started on how hot you’re going to be wearing that sweater.” He shakes his head, as though I should know all of this.
“Well, sorry, Boss. I’ll do better next time,” I say sharply.
His eyes glance over at me, flashing a familiar look at me, making my stomach dip.
I’m sure he’s really wanting to put me in my place right about now. The thought of that sends heat up my spine.
I wonder what he wishes he could do to me.
I focus my attention out the window. “If I get too hot, I can always take it off—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “You’ll be keeping your clothes on.”
I look over at him. Okay. That’s an interesting response.
“I’m just saying, I have a sleeveless shirt under here. I can just—” I hook my fingers under the hem of my sweatshirt and attempt to peel it off. Before I can, his hand closes around my wrist, firm, locking me in place.
My gaze drops to where his fingers wrap around my skin. My breath stutters at the sight. At the feel.
Too many memories crash in all at once. Of him, gripping me just like this, as he brought me to the edge of no return.
It’s not a want. It’s a need.
“Noah, stop,” he orders. His rough voice is stern and serious. I can feel my dick twitch in my pants.
“But—” I open my mouth to fight back, but before I do, he silences me yet again.
“We’re here,” he says, peeling in behind a few other cars. “Just…stick beside me today. Don’t wander off.”
He unclips his seatbelt, grabs a notebook and a lunchbox from the backseat, and quickly removes himself from the truck. It’s like he can’t get out fast enough.
***
“Hey boss, where should I put this plywood?” A man, who looks a little older than I am, comes up to us as soon as we walk in.
“Uh, second floor, for now,” Brad says, stepping inside and making room for me. “Ethan, this is my…uh…Veronica’s son. He’s going to be helping us out,” Brad says, stumbling over his words. “Noah, this is Ethan, our Crew leader.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “He helps me…uh—manage the crew.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I mutter.
“Wow. I didn’t know Veronica had a son.” Ethan’s eyes widen, looking me over. “You’re like, full-grown. Wild. Nice to meet you.” He goes to shake hands, but quickly realizes his hands are full with the plywood.
I give him an awkward wave. “No worries. Yeah, fully reached adult status.” I smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
He nods, smiles, and walks off.
“Uh, I’ll get you to meet everyone as they come in. But, for now, I’ll show you around the place.” Brad says, leading the way.
He takes me around the ground level first. Metal scraps, wooden shavings, and other debris cover the ground, but I can tell by the open floor plan and spacious rooms that this will be a beautiful build.
We make our way through the kitchen area, where blueprints are laid out on the countertop.
“You’re running all of this?” I ask. It’s impressive.
“Yeah,” Brad shrugs his jacket off. “Me and the guys, of course.”
“Yeah…but you’re their boss.” My eyes flicker to the door where a few guys file in.
“Hey boss,” they all repeat after each other as they make their way inside.
There are only about five of them today, which makes me assume the others are working on the other houses along this street.
I’m definitely the youngest here, but there are a few who are only slightly older than me, and a few others who are even older than Brad.
One older guy, whose name I learn is Terry, gives me a hard time about my outfit, making me laugh. He’s got my humor, which I like. After I tease him about his bifocals, I’ve clearly earned his respect as he pats me on the back.
“I like this kid,” he says to Brad. “What are you, eighteen? Nineteen?”
I narrow my eyes. “Twenty-three.” My birthday’s coming up, actually, but I keep it to myself—pointing it out would only make me seem younger.
“Twenty-three?! In what? Four years?” Terry bursts out laughing, completely cracking up. I shake my head and chuckle along.
This is a good group of guys. Brad clearly built himself a pretty cool team.
“Everyone’s kind of scattered for the most part, doing their thing. But, today, we’re installing the cabinetry.” Brad explains to me. “Want to help?”
I nod my head. “Put me in, coach.”
“Boss,” he corrects. His eyes flicker to my lips. A beat passes between us, and I can’t help but feel the undeniable pull I know too well.
“Boss.” I echo, quietly. Because for some reason, it feels as dirty as 'sir' always did.
He can only blame himself for making me say it again. He loves making me—
“Okay, let’s get to work.” He claps his hands together, snapping me out of that daydream.
I follow Brad, and before long, we’re moving in-sync. I’m helping more than I expected.
Brad lets me hold the cabinets up as he levels and screws them in.
When I see that no one is within earshot, I make a move to test him.
“You’re really good at that,” I say, holding it steady.
“What?” he mutters around a nail in his mouth.
“Screwing,” I finish.
His eyes jump to mine, and I can’t help but wink.
“Noah,” he says lowly, voice edged with restraint.
“Brad,” I mock in the same tone.
“Knock it off,” he mumbles quietly, but I catch the way he subtly shifts himself on the counter.
Oh, he makes it too easy.
***
Before I know it, Brad’s calling for lunchtime.
Which is fantastic because I’m starved.
“Shit.” Realization dawns on me. “I didn’t pack lunch.”
Brad laughs, opening his lunch bag. “You’re lucky that I think for the both of us.” He tosses me a turkey, cheese, and mayo sandwich on a brioche bun. The same one he made for us last summer.
“Yeah. Lucky me,” I mutter, looking down at it, perfectly wrapped in cellophane.
A bunch of us are in the living room area, sitting on the ground, enjoying our lunch.
I listen in, laughing at the shared stories about their personal lives and such.
Brad does the same. He’s clearly a listener like me.
Every now and again, he glances over at me, like he’s looking to see if I’m having a good time or not. With him so near, it’s hard not to.
I fill my mouth with my sandwich, wanting to swallow down how badly I wish he would just scoot over an inch. Enough for me to lay my leg on him or something. Anything.
“So, Noah, how’s living with the Boss? Does he loosen up after hours?” Terry calls out to me, all the eyes jumping to mine for an answer.
Heat crawls up my neck. How do I answer that, knowing just how loose he can get?
Brad looks over at me like he’s curious too.
Does he loosen up? I mean…with a little prepping—
Suddenly, the front door to the house swings open.
“What’s up, fuckers?” A tall guy, looking like he walked straight out of a country song, storms into the house, snagging all of our attention.
He’s dressed similarly to Brad, but his dark brown hair flips out from under the brim of his baseball cap. A dark moustache sits above his lip, with a hint of stubble on his cheeks.
“Heyyy, Kev.” Brad dusts off his hands and stands up to greet the newcomer.
They connect hands in a firm grasp and a pat on Brad’s back. “You guys busy or what? Looks like you’re hardly workin’,” he laughs, pulling up his pants by his belt buckle. The guys all laugh it off, shaking their heads and returning to their lunches.
“Kev, I want you to meet someone,” Brad says, leaning into him like it’s some kind of secret.
“Hm? Who?” he fires off, avoiding eye contact as I get up. He must’ve noticed me sitting here when he walked in. I’m the only guy he wouldn’t recognize. But, he’s acting as if he didn’t see me? Weird.
“Noah. Noah Bauchman.” I extend my hand as I walk up.