Chapter Five
Mason
The following day, we headed to Margaret's home to inspect the damage. She offered us lemonade and cookies the moment we walked through the door. Not wanting to be rude, we accepted her offer and made small talk for a bit.
"So, you’re a teacher?" Margaret asked, turning to Emery.
"Yes, ma’am. I teach high school theatre."
"Well, that’s quite a job. You put on plays, then? Do you ever do musicals? I liked Chicago. I saw it when it first came out on Broadway, you know."
I let out a low whistle. "That’s impressive."
"I lived in New York for a time when I was in my twenties. My girlfriend was a costume designer. She got us tickets to all the new shows."
Her… girlfriend? She probably meant a friend, right? Older ladies called their friends "girlfriends" all the time. While I was turning that over in my mind, I must’ve missed something, because the next thing I knew, Emery was saying my name.
"Right, Mason?"
"Hmm?" I raised my eyebrows in a question.
"I was saying we should probably get moving and look at the damage."
"Oh, right. Definitely."
"Well, it’s all in the bedroom and bathroom back there. Feel free to look around." Margaret pointed in the direction of the damage and nodded. "I think I’ll stay right here and wait for your report, if that’s okay."
"Of course."
We made our way to the bedroom in question to check out the damage. When we entered, the needed work was clear. The roof had leaked, starting at the corner of the house and spreading into the center, so there was a major water stain and the drywall on the ceiling was sagging.
I nodded. "Right. We can handle this. Need to finish your place first, then we can come back. We should tarp the roof before we leave, though, so it doesn’t get any worse by the time we get back."
"Yeah, okay. Put me to work."
We reported back to Margaret before going outside and gathering everything we needed. It took us about an hour to climb on the roof and secure a tarp to prevent any further water from leaking in. Emery wasn’t very handy, but did take instructions well, and that was helpful at least.
When we were finished, we found Margaret, who was knitting in her living room and listening to an audiobook—a spicy bodice-ripper by the sound of it. She turned it off when she spotted us, her cheeks flushing.
"Oh! Pretend you didn’t hear that. What’s the prognosis?"
"It’s definitely secure for now. We’ll be back as soon as the work is done at Emery’s cabin. Is that okay?"
"It’s more than okay. I can’t say enough times how thankful I am for your help." She stood and hugged us tight, one at a time, before shooing us out of her house. "Go on, now. I’ve got a book to listen to and you have better things to do than spend all day chatting with me."
Back in the car, Emery glanced at me as we headed out, bumping down Margaret’s rutted driveway. "It’s really nice of you, you know."
I raised my eyebrows. "Helping her?" When he nodded, I shrugged. "I like to help people when I can. I have the time and the skills. Why not help?"
Emery nodded again, a soft smile on his face. "I really like that." His voice sounded thick with emotion, as if he’d meant to say something else instead.
We made our way back to the cabin, and I was optimistic about getting some work done when I realized the weather had other plans.
A storm looked to be rolling in and I was not excited.
Even though the roof was tarped off and the windows were boarded up, the incoming storm was going to make things more complicated—and potentially strip away our opportunity to work the next day.
We worked as quickly as we could to close out the day, and when we’d done everything we could and the sun was setting, Emery announced he was calling it a night and went inside.
I took a quick dip in the lake before heading in for bed, thunder rumbling off in the distance. The thunderstorm was bringing a cold front with it, relieving the heat a little even if it did ratchet up the humidity, and the air was cool as I headed back inside.
By the time I put on basketball shorts and slid into bed, Emery’s breathing was deep and even, and he didn’t stir as I pulled the sheet over me.
As I got into bed, I wished like hell there was a spare bedroom in good enough shape for me to use.
I didn’t need much—a place to lay a sleeping bag, maybe.
Okay, maybe not. I liked to live in comfort as much as the next guy.
I tossed and turned for a while, unable to settle down.
Things had been getting, well, weird. Emery and I had been best friends for years and it had always been easy, comfortable.
Since we’d been at the cabin, though, tension had built between us.
Not angry tension, but… well, if I didn’t know better, I’d call it sexual tension.
Ever since I’d spotted his lookalike in that video, I couldn’t stop thinking about Emery naked.
When we were near each other, I wanted to touch him, and every time we touched, I wanted more.
As I tried to sleep, I listened to the rumble of thunder, cracks of lightning, and rain hitting the tarp.
A chill seeped into the bedroom and I pulled the blanket closer around my shoulders, willing myself to fall asleep.
Finally, after what felt like hours, my brain and body settled down and I slept.
When I woke the next morning, my first thought was, Cozy.
As in, Damn, this bed is cozy. Gradually, I became aware of what was so cozy about the bed, despite the chill in the air—Emery.
He was resting his head on my chest, snuggled in against my side, the blankets pulled up around both of us.
I was surprised to realize I didn’t mind it.
At all. The second that thought hit me, my mind asked What if he minds it?
I had a gut desire to pull him closer—until I realized he probably wouldn’t appreciate that.
I tried carefully to slide my arm out from under him, to wiggle away without waking him, but it was no use.
Emery burrowed closer and groaned softly, a sound that did something to me that I couldn’t quite identify—it stirred something deep in my gut and groin.
Panic bubbled up inside me and I tried again to get away.
As I did, Emery inhaled deeply and his eyes fluttered open.
He frowned and looked up at me. "Mason?"
"Hi."
"What…" He trailed off sleepily, his brow furrowed. I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. I seized the moment and fully extricated myself from his hold before sitting up in bed, and as I slid away, his frown deepened. "What was that about?"
I shrugged. "Hell if I know. I woke up and you were all snuggled into my side. What was I supposed to do, throw you off?"
He gave me a cocky grin. "So, you decided to cuddle with me instead?"
I shoved his shoulder and rolled my eyes. "Fuck off." A beat passed. "We need to get up for the day."
"Seriously, though." He sounded hesitant.
"Yeah?"
"We’re good? Like, nothing’s weird between us now?"
I shook my head. "Nothing’s weird."
He exhaled in relief and nodded. "Good." With that, he swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching his arms to the sky. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice the way his body moved, the trail of hair leading down into his shorts, and the way he groaned as he moved. It did something to me—my gut stirred and my body flushed with heat. It reminded me of the porn I’d seen.
The one I had neglected to mention to him.
It suddenly seemed important that I not tell him about it after all.
I shook my head at myself and exhaled sharply, turning away from Emery and facing the wall until the fluttering in my stomach subsided.
"Dibs on changing in the bathroom," Emery said to my back. A few seconds later, the bathroom door shut behind me.
I stood, a little shaky, a little confused.
What was going on with me? Maybe it had been too long since I’d gotten laid.
While he was in there, I pulled clean clothes on and tried some deep breathing to center myself.
I made my way to the front bedroom and called out for Emery as I heard the bathroom door open.
He came into the room just as thunder boomed outside. "I don’t think we’re getting much done today."
I shrugged. "I can check those pipes in the other bathroom, so we can get the water running again. Plus, we need to run to the grocery store for supplies. Hot dogs and marshmallows can only get you so far."
He snorted. "Says you."
"Some of us aren’t thirteen years old anymore."
"You calling me old?"
I shook my head. "Never. Because if you’re old, then so am I." We were both nearing forty, nowhere near old enough to be considered old. "Let’s make a game plan."
"Okay. Where do we start?"
I looked around. "I say we get everything out of this room and trash anything that can’t be saved.
Then we’ll make our way into the other rooms. We can get a good idea of what needs to be repaired or replaced.
" A crackle of lightning sounded outside.
"And it’ll keep us indoors until we need to make a grocery run. "
"Sounds like a plan." He grinned, a lopsided, soft smile, and nodded. "Let’s get to it."
The morning passed quickly and soon my stomach was growling and there was furniture crowding the main living space.
We’d removed everything and set aside anything salvageable, including a dresser, the beds, and a couple of small nightstands.
They were all a little worse for wear but would probably be fine.
Emery stood and stretched, arching his back. "Okay, maybe we are old," he said, laughing.
"You want to break for the grocery store?"
"Deal."
A few minutes later, I pulled on a jacket and a hat to protect me from the rain and we ran outside to Emery’s SUV. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle rather than the torrential downpour we’d had earlier in the day, which was a relief.