Chapter 22
Jason
I brace both of my palms against the tiles on the shower wall, head hanging between my shoulders as the water cascades down my back. Steam gushes toward the ceiling, turning the air opaque, as I let myself savour ten more seconds.
Ten more seconds of muscle-deep relief before I pick up my phone and become the boss for the next twelve hours.
Seeing as it’s the weekend I know that I won’t have my whole crew on hand, but the overtime pay is one hell of an incentive, so there won’t be too many guys missing.
And judging by the messages they were firing off last night? The past six hours of snowfall may have just got us booked and busy.
My chest swells on a deep steam-filled inhale, my eyelids closing for a long moment as I let the heat relax my muscles. On the back of my neck, the expanse of my upper back…
I reluctantly open my eyes and my gaze slides down to my quads, lingering on the long muscle that’s hanging heavily between my thighs.
I lift one hand off the tiles, pushing it back through my shower-drenched hair.
So maybe I should have taken a cold shower this morning. But knowing that I’m about to have a day working outside in the ice and snow, I wasn’t too inclined to freeze my dick off any sooner than necessary.
I murmur a quiet curse under my breath before reaching down between my thighs, jaw tensing as I wrap my fist around myself and start stroking out some pent-up tension. Just three slow strokes before I release a growl and slap off the shower spray.
I can’t do this right now, especially not when Sunday is on the other side of this wall, fast asleep.
Even if I know what she was doing last night, when she started peeling off her clothes as she mounted my stairs.
But knowing that I had to be up at five this morning was exactly what we both needed to hear. I don’t want to rush her into getting close to me, and I also probably need some clarity about her situation in Nashville. Because if she’s planning on high-tailing it back to Tennessee after Case comes home, then I’m ninety-nine percent sure that this thing between us is going to have to stay as ‘just friends’.
Although, even if that is the case, maybe we should just say fuck it – I’ve wanted to be with her since I was eighteen years old, and if hooking up is all that she wants, then who the fuck am I to ask her for more?
Case told me that his sister was a big deal in Nashville, so I won’t be surprised if this visit turns out to be a small vacation.
But when I finish up with the guys today, there’s not a fucking chance that I’m not finding out.
Last night was without a doubt the best date that I’ve ever had, even if it was a day after Valentine’s and I had to DIY us a make-shift cinema.
And I can’t deny that I love the fact that Sunday liked that even more, the fact that it was just the two of us out there, and she had me all to herself.
I step out onto the shower mat, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from smiling. I grab a towel and scrub it over my hair, barely able to make out my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. It’s just a haze of wide shoulders and tan skin as I drag the towel down my chest.
I finish drying off, then head to the en suite’s adjoining bedroom, grabbing my boxers from the dresser and dragging them up my quads as I glance around for my phone.
I must have left my work cell on the kitchen counter last night, and my personal cell will likely be down there, too.
I hitch up my pants, pull down my shirt, and then grab my belt from the dresser, sliding the leather through the loops as I make my way out of the master bedroom.
My eyes instinctively glance toward the door next to mine, and I grunt out a low curse when I see that Sunday left it wide open.
My chest rises unsteadily as I flick a look inside her room, and then I’m pausing for a half-second – because she’s still wearing my damn sweater .
I avert my eyes so quickly you’d think that her brother had caught me looking, and then I’m half-jogging down the stairs so that I can’t do anything stupid.
Just a couple more hours and then you can ask her where we stand, I think to myself as I get the coffee-maker going. Then I’m clicking the power buttons on both of my cells and sighing quietly when I see the unending list of notifications.
Because last night’s snowfall? Yeah, it’s fucked up our plans.
But after years of running Coleson Contruction in Phoenix Falls, I’m so used to this shit that I can’t help but breathe out a laugh.
Some guys are telling me that they’re too snowed-in to head out, other guys are telling me that they’ll head to their respective sites early. Then I’ve got Halle, one of the women in town, asking if I can head over to her place and fix up a snow-damaged porch.
But it’s Mitch’s text from four minutes ago that has my biceps flexing as I pick up my phone.
My brother and I hardly ever text each other and, when we do, they’re pretty much exclusively about work. So hearing from him now tells me that this job is going to be a killer.
I tap his name on my personal phone, leaving the work cell in front of me so that I can watch as more texts filter in from the guys.
And the second that he picks up I’m asking, “What d’you mean, ‘roof problems’?”
Two words that you don’t want to hear as a construction worker when you’ve had a night full of snow?
The word ‘roof’, followed by the word ‘problems’.
There’s a growling sound on his end of the line, like he’s sighing as hard as I am. “We can handle it, no problem. But I don’t have the equipment for it at my place.”
I nod even though he can’t see me and cast a quick look toward my living room. I scan it to see if I’ve got a spare sweater lying around, seeing as the one that I usually wear is currently getting snuggled up in my guest room.
“What do we need?” I ask, grabbing a pull-over from the side of the armchair.
“Like, fifty fucking tiles?” he says, his deep voice rasping with exasperation. “It’s the damn diner, man, and Peyton’s freaking the hell out. She messaged Harper this morning and then she was freaking out, and…” He trails off with a rough exhale, but he’s my brother so I know what he’s thinking.
If his fiancée is distressed because her friend is in trouble, then Mitch isn’t waiting another minute before jumping to the rescue.
“We should grab more tiles than that,” I tell him, opening the door to the back porch as quietly as possible. Then I haul open the garage and grab as much shit as I think we’ll need. “If it looks like fifty tiles need replacing, by the time that we get up there I bet there’ll be at least another thirty that need re-doing.”
Since I started my company, most of the town square has been fixed up by my team, but the diner was one of the only joints that seemed to stand as a testament to its original construction. But after decades of rough weather, I’m not surprised that the old tiles finally need replacing – although it does make me pause, as I realise that my gear isn’t going to look the same as what they had before.
“Shit.” I glance down at the box of tiles, picking up one of the pieces before setting it carefully back into place. “If we do this, it’s not gonna be in keeping with the old ones. I don’t even know what colour they’ve got up there,” I admit, heaving the box under my bicep.
I hold my cell between my ear and shoulder as I lock up the garage and head back to the house.
“Black according to Peyton, but who the fuck cares? No-one pays attention to the roof because no-one can see it unless they’re up there.”
He’s right – most people don’t see the minor details of a project unless they were involved with it from the inside.
But I still wish that I had the right materials for the diner.
Sensing where my head is at, Mitch says, “Jace, they’re just gonna be grateful to get it fixed. Red, brown, or sunshine fucking yellow, as long as they have a roof over their heads, they’re not gonna give a shit.”
“Is it just a tile job or is it the integral timber, too?”
“Just the tiles,” Mitch replies, followed by a rough thank fuck . “The old ones were apparently cracked like hell. Then after the heavy snow, a whole row slid loose.”
If the interior is still in good shape, then a re-tiling job will be easy – especially seeing as the snowfall has paused, meaning that we can get up there with no problems.
Hell, even with us working the roof, the diner can still run business as usual.
The crew’s original plans for today will be pushed back, but we’re always ahead of schedule so it isn’t really a problem.
“You got Tate to help you out?” I ask, dropping the box of tiles beside my gear bag.
“It’s Saturday,” Mitch says drily. “Where d’you think he is?”
I can’t help but breathe out a quiet laugh at that.
Without exception, Mitch’s son wraps up his Friday shift as early as he can, and then he spends the entirety of his weekend either at his fiancée’s dorm or at his place. Seeing as he likes to take her to his favourite church on Sundays, more often than not they’ll be at his place in Phoenix Falls.
“I’ve got other guys who can help out, if you’re busy,” Mitch adds, as if he can tell that I’m torn – but roof-work is as easy as breathing to me, so I feel like I should take this one.
“I can–” I’m about to say, but then my eyes flick to the sudden buzzing on the counter.
My work cell has been non-stop vibrating and it’s not even five-thirty in the morning yet.
But when my gaze settles on the most recent message, I close my eyes and drag a hand through my hair.
“Mitch,” I tell him gruffly, “I’m not going to be able to make it.”
He grunts on the other end but still manages to get out a low, “It’s okay. No stress.”
“No – I would have joined, at least for the morning,” I tell him. The more hands they get on that roof before the snow falls again, the quicker they’ll finish. “But I’ve just got an SOS that I have to deal with.”
Not only can I not make Mitch’s tiling job, even my own crew is going to be without me this morning.
And as soon as I say SOS, Mitch knows exactly what’s going on.
“Search-and-rescue,” he says, not as a question but as a fact.
I glance at the notification on my work phone, memorising the location as I map out which route I need to take.
“Some out-of-towners didn’t realise that the snow was going to come down so heavy. So they set up camp in the mountains, and it got too deep for them to climb back down.”
Luckily they have a satellite phone, so we’ll be able to find them ASAP.
“Which mountain?” Mitch asks.
I shrug on a jacket. “Which d’you think?”
They’re halfway up the evergreens behind my fucking house , so there’s no way that I can leave this mission for someone who doesn’t know these ridges like I do.
“Want me to still bring the tiles and gear to the town square before I head?” I ask.
“No way, I’ll come grab ’em,” my brother replies instantly. “Don’t waste time on that shit. Just leave the tiles inside the front door and I’ll take it from there – I’ve got a key.”
We hang up and then I’m dialling Knox, letting him know that there’s a mission I need to run this morning. Seeing as he’s doing some of the final electric checks on the bar – which, luckily enough, is just across the road from the diner – I let him know that I’ll stop by the second that the rescue’s done.
Then I’m grabbing my gear for the snowmobile and heading out of the backdoor.
Leaving my work cell on the kitchen counter, completely forgotten.