Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Jasper
Jasper
Is there any chance that one or some or all of you can come down for the opening? I’m thinking of having a shindig that I can invite people from town to come out to.
Rowan
Once you have a date, I’ll do my best. I’ve got some firm deadlines coming up.
Vaughn
50/50 chance of yes.
Dad
I don’t think so, but I’m not saying no. You haven’t been down there long.
You sure you’ll be ready?
Gage
Fuck yeah, I’ll be there.
Dad
Gage, watch your language. You’re supposed to be an adult.
Gage
I’m so fucking sorry, Dad. Sometimes I’m an asshole.
Dad
Not funny.
Gage
It’s a little funny.
Jasper
Sissy gave me a huge head start. I’ll be ready.
Channel Bob and get some color on these walls.
Three days of painting, and my arms were one brushstroke away from falling off. I’d hoped all this work would magically give me sun’s-out-guns-out arms. But nope. Still skinny, still no sign of muscle definition.
Being the runt of the family sucked. Being the only runt?
Even worse. Rowan was six-two and a pediatrician—Saint Rowan, who still somehow found time to run marathons for charity.
Gage was six-three, an ER doc, and could charm anyone from age two to a hundred and two.
Vaughn was six feet and worked in finance, which basically meant he moved numbers around until they behaved and then bought another watch.
Dad was six-one and still jogged like he had something to prove.
Me? I was short like Mom, had green eyes, curly-ish blond hair, and the general vibe of someone they found under a bush and decided to keep.
Mom died in a car accident before I hit preschool.
I didn’t remember her voice or her laugh, but sometimes I wished I did.
Mostly, she was a couple of framed photos in Dad’s office and the occasional “You get that from your mother” when it came to being flighty.
Dad was who’d done the raising, and he’d done it well.
Which made every time I flopped even harder to swallow.
Three tall, respectable, productive kids…
and me, with a pipe dream about running a B&B.
After way too much overthinking, I’d settled on a wildflower theme for the bedrooms. Fingers crossed the muted colors and small personal touches landed as cozy charm instead of “grandma’s guest room.
” Downstairs would be a Texas-ranch lodge, all warm woods and a little worn-in character.
If I nailed it, guests would step inside and breathe a little deeper.
That was a B&B owner kind of thing to do. Go me.
The big, scary project still looming was creating the walkway to Cypress Creek.
Right now, there was a rock wall at the drop-off, but nothing to get you down to the water.
And that was a shame because under the cypress trees, it was all shade, soft grass, and the sound of the creek moving.
Perfect for picnics, small weddings, or whatever else made this place feel like a destination.
Sissy told me that when she bought this place, everyone said to cut down the trees.
Thank god she hadn’t. The cedars by the road and the pecan trees scattered throughout the property made the air cooler and the light softer.
Pecan pie made with my very own nuts would obviously be superior—and they’d look amazing with solar-powered twinkly lights.
Achoo! These allergies might kill me before my arms get the chance to fall off. At this point, it might be a fair trade.
Finish the room, then take a break. On that break, I could Google whether it was possible to remove my brain and give it a rinse. Achoo!
Painting was so much easier when your eyes weren’t threatening to swell shut during the cutting-in part.
The fumes made me lightheaded, but I was determined to finish.
The bathrooms were going to remain their current crisp white so that standard white towels would be interchangeable throughout.
In Sissy’s revamp, she’d had all of them repainted, and I hadn’t needed to spend the extra time redoing all that work.
With the pieces I’d picked up and ordered, they’d still look unique in each room.
One more. Last one. Make it happen, Jasper. Achoo!
I trudged into the last room bedroom that remained to be finished.
It was the double suite at one end of the hall.
The client would step into a sitting area, then proceed through an interior door to the bedroom and an en suite bathroom.
I’d kept it for last because I knew it would be my favorite.
My dad once said that Mom’s favorite flower had been Sweet William, and Sissy had mentioned it was also hers.
The raspberry-pink walls in the bedroom were a choice…
like a seriously bold color choice, but it was beautiful and deep.
In the sitting area, it’d be reversed by mid-green walls with raspberry and white accents.
It was feminine, gorgeous, and perfect. I hoped that if they could’ve seen it, Mom and Sissy would’ve loved it. Achoo!
But if I didn’t get my butt in gear, it wasn’t going to happen.
Move it, Jasper.
And…done! It took another two hours, but my room was finished. If nothing else, the last three days had taught me to paint with the precision of someone with delusions of grandeur. I finally gave myself permission to collapse into a puddle and, naturally, my phone buzzed immediately. Gah.
Daddy
Up for company?
Hello?
Everything okay?
Jasper
p, dumw
Daddy
I’m coming over.
“Anyone here?” Hank’s voice carried up from downstairs, followed by the sound of boots on the stairs.
It took more effort than I had to answer. My head was seconds from exploding, but I’d finished painting the last room. We were officially ready for the furniture phase…assuming I still had a head. If not, all bets were off.
I was flat on the floor of the Sweet William Room, staring at the ceiling. If it was my time to go, this wasn’t a bad place to expire. Whoever painted it did a hell of a job. Oh, right. That was me. Yay me. The joke wasn’t worth the brain pain it took to think it up.
“What the hell happened?” Hank barked from the doorway before dropping down beside me.
“Shh. You’re yelling.”
“Hell yes, I’m yelling. You sent me nothing but gibberish.”
“I said I was fine.”
“You texted me p, dumw. That’s not fine. That’s a cry for help.”
“That’s what autocorrect meant to say,” I muttered.
He opened his mouth to keep grilling me, but—
“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”
“Never mind,” he said. “I know the problem.”
“Are you a doctor? ’Cause I know a lot of them, and diagnosis usually takes longer.”
“I’m not a doctor, thank you. Why do you know so many?” Hank shook his head before I could answer. “Never mind. I still know the problem even without the degree.”
“What do you know?” My voice sounded like it was echoing inside a barrel.
“The Texas pollen has taken you out. Good news is, you’ll probably survive.”
His little chuckle was entirely unnecessary. Hank wasn’t my favorite in this town anymore. Earl from the dinner seemed like a guy who could be a good friend. He could be my new favorite and no Hank allowed.
“What’s the bad news?”
“You’ll probably survive.” If it were possible, I liked him even less now.
“I want option one.”
“Sorry, sugar, death by pollen isn’t happening on my watch.” Daddy took my hands and hauled me off the floor. The movement sent me reeling, and I banged into his chest.
“Sorry, that one’s on me.” Okay, well, that lightly redeemed him.
“Ugh. I was painting, finally finished, and collapsed.”
“Texas pollen takes out a lot of people. If you’re not acclimated, it can be rough.”
“So next year I’ll be fine?”
“No, next year will suck too—but you’ll be ready for the onslaught.”
Yeah, the still sucks part was stuck in my brain on a loop.
“Just leave me here to die.”
“Sorry, sugar, I like you too much to leave you to the wolves.”
That tidbit sent me sitting straight up.
“They have freaking wolves around here?”
“Ha! We don’t, but we do have coyotes—which is why the fences gotta be good for the ladies.”
“Ugh, how did I forget about them? I still need to give them their evening snack.”
My attempt to step back from Hank sent me swaying, and I had to grab his bicep—rock hard, FYI—to keep from falling again.
“Nope. You’re going back to your house, getting some meds I’m sure Sissy has around here—because she used to complain about the pollen too—and crashing on the couch.”
Hank morphed into Daddy in an instant, and I fell into line. Ugh. This was the hardest part of a Daddy situationship.
We’d hooked up, kissed, even held hands in public. But the very next day, he’d gotten caught up in a flock of bogos or bongos or bingos—I don’t know, one of them—and been radio silent ever since.
It left a guy to wonder. And to pine. Individually terrible, and together a total killer for my live, laugh, love era. RIP. Oh crap, wasn’t I supposed to be all serious and dedicated-minded during this reno? Well, now I’d screwed it all the way around.
“Hey, you, come back to Earth,” Hank said, interrupting my swerve into I-don’t-even-know-what. “Let’s get you onto the couch. I’ll take care of your ladies, and then I’ll fix my guaranteed sinus-clearing meal.”
“For someone who doesn’t like cooking, you sure know a lot about it,” I pouted.
Hank took my hand and led me toward the stairs. “Unless I want to go out every single night for food, it was easier to learn how to cook. And if I don’t want shitty food every single night, then I might as well learn to do it well. What I haven’t been able to do is teach myself to like it.”
As he spoke, he stopped in the kitchen and riffled through the cabinet. I hadn’t bothered to go through it after I saw it was Sissy’s junk drawer. At some point, I knew I’d need the extra thread and batteries scattered in there.