Chapter 3
Leon
Aheavy thump comes from outside and immediately sinks a bad feeling into my gut. I frown and pick up my pace.
When I open my front door, the last thing I’m expecting is to see a kid passed out on my porch.
“Shit.” I drop to my knees and quickly check him over, but barely a few seconds later, he groans.
Pretty green eyes blink open at me.
“You okay?” I ask.
He makes another whimpery little noise and glances around before trying to sit up. I let him go, hovering close by in case he passes out again. “Oh no …” he mutters.
I take him in from his purple boots to his blue flannel shirt, and when I reach his face again, I’m hit with the suspicion of familiarity.
“I just … oh hell, I passed out, didn’t I?
” He meets my eyes, and his whole face pales.
“I’m so sorry. Sometimes when I don’t eat, I get low blood pressure, and that’s not something you need to worry about, but I guess I wasn’t paying attention, so I dropped, and I swear I’m fine now.
It hardly ever happens. Well, sometimes there’s triggers, like today, but it’s not something that will affect work—”
“Wait.” I cut in to get the kid to stop talking. But the reddish-brown curls, the small frame, the unnerving, never-ending stream of words. “Let me guess … August Brashford?”
His cute face splits with a grin. I try not to cringe. He’s the guy who approached me at the Summer Nights Festival a few weeks ago, and my opinion of him hasn’t changed.
This kid is not the perfect apprentice I was hoping for.
He scrambles to his feet, and I slowly push to mine. He’s a good foot shorter than me.
“Should you get someone to take a look at …” I point to his head.
“No, I think my shoulder took the fall.” He laughs awkwardly.
“Really, I’m okay. Not my first rodeo, or umm, whatever the saying is.
I’m good. We can do the inter …” He trails off as his gaze travels down over my chest, seeming to notice for the first time I’m only wearing a pair of sleep shorts. “The interview …”
I push back my smug smile. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
That gets his attention. “No, it is. Really. I’m prepared. Don’t worry about the whole fainting thing, that was nothing. Super minor. I won’t let a little thing like passing out ruin this for me.”
I sigh. “You’re about an hour early.”
“I’m … enthusiastic?”
Well, I can’t fault that logic. Biting back a retort, I shrug and lead the way inside. This should be fast at least. “Wait in here,” I say, pointing him toward the front room. At least there are chairs in here since I took the couches from the living area before I started ripping it apart.
“Ah, thanks. This is … cozy.”
I hum and leave him there.
Of course the one apprentice I would bother contacting for an interview had to be the awkward, overeager guy I’d been determined to never run into again. Where the hell is my luck?
I turn my gaze skyward for a moment as I pull out my LJ work shirt and some pants. Showering is apparently going to have to wait until after I get this kid out of my house.
How someone who looks like they’d fall over under a strong breeze expects to go into the building industry is beyond me.
I don’t have time for this.
But I’m also not going to be a dick about it either.
First, coffee. I make two, then reluctantly drag my ass toward the front room. When I reach the doorway, guilt seeps through me at the way his knees are bouncing erratically. He’s all twitchy and nervous, and I can’t help feeling bad for the kid.
This is why I hate doing interviews.
I’ll give anyone a job if it means not saying no.
“All right, kid, let’s—”
“I’m not a kid.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise at the forceful, determined tone. It’s so far off the rambling I’ve heard from him so far that my lips twitch. “Okay, not a kid. So … August?”
“Auggie. Please. If that’s okay.”
Not like it makes a difference what I call him for the next five minutes. I nod as I take the armchair opposite him. “Auggie, I guess let’s start with you telling me why you applied to be an apprentice.”
He opens his mouth, clearly about to let whatever fall out of it, when he abruptly stops and forces down a deep breath.
“Working in the building industry is something that has always interested me. Even as a kid I built things with Dad, and I’ve always pictured that it’s what I’ll end up doing with my life. ”
His answer sounds so rehearsed the words barely hold meaning. “Uh-huh. So why aren’t you working with your dad, then?”
“Family and work don’t mix. I want to do it on my own.”
I’m not sure I believe him. His words are all right, but there’s something about the way his hands twitched and eyes darted to the side that makes me think there’s something more there.
“You’re not applying to work with me because you know your dad doesn’t like me, right?” As much as Kieran and I butt heads sometimes, I don’t want any actual conflict with the man. My time is limited as it is.
Auggie’s eyes widen. “No, I would never. Like I said at the festival, I’ve done my research on you. I was impressed, and when I saw your ad, I thought learning from someone who’s self-made like you would be amazing.”
And maybe I like the flattery, but that at least seems like the truth. I’m able to relax a little.
We talk over what Auggie knows and the experience he’s had.
I have to admit, it’s well and truly beyond what I ever expected in an apprentice.
Not only has he done a lot of the physical stuff, he’s learned about the business management side from his mom as well and has a lot of knowledge when it comes to the planning stages.
The problem is … trying to picture him on a worksite, with my guys, just doesn’t work. There’s no way he could hold his own against them, and I don’t think I’d be able to trust leaving him on his own.
As much experience as he has, there’s a reason he’s not working with his dad, and when he goes to pick up his coffee mug, I think I know why.
Auggie misses his mouth, and coffee spills down the front of his shirt. In his rush, he tries to put the cup back on the table, misses, and it hits the floor with a thud, sloshing coffee over the floorboards.
My unsealed floorboards.
Without a word, I get up and head to my kitchen, then go back with a rag and try to mop up the mess.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps. “Here, let me.” He drops to his knees and starts scrubbing at the bare timber, purposely tilting his face away from me. “I didn’t mean it. Shit, I’m so clumsy. Why do these things always happen to me?”
Clumsy? I want to ask him to elaborate, but as this doesn’t come as a total surprise to him, I have to assume Auggie is the kind of guy who regularly does things like this.
With a sinking feeling, I acknowledge he isn’t the kind of person I can afford to have on-site.
I don’t have time for a lawsuit either.
I reach out and pry the cloth from his grip, then wait for him to look at me. When he finally glances up, face close to mine, his lips are turned down, and his eyes have taken on that sheen that makes me very worried he’s about to start crying.
Please don’t let him start crying.
“I have a feeling this didn’t go well,” he whispers.
And he looks so defeated, I’m not sure how to respond. “Look, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunit—”
He nods sharply and scrambles to his feet. “Yes, you’re right. I’m fooling myself and wasting good people’s time with this stupid dream. There are lots of other things I can pursue. Hey, maybe I’ll take up knitting or horseback riding—the sky’s the limit, right?”
Auggie turns to me and holds out his hand.
I stand slowly, shake it, and then a moment later, he forces a smile and disappears out my front door.
Like that, he’s gone.
Which is a good thing.
Obviously.
Having someone like Auggie in my life would cause way more headaches than he’s worth. I’ve dodged a bullet.
So why do I feel so shitty about it?