4. Fox
CHAPTER FOUR
FOX
" D ude, you're staring at your phone like it's gonna sprout legs and dance," Rowan says, snapping me back to the present. We're framing the new addition on the Henderson place, a massive four-bedroom expansion keeping Cedar Bay Construction booked solid through winter.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, trying to look casual. "Just checking the time."
"Bullshit," Cole laughs, hefting a two-by-four onto his shoulder. "That's the same dopey look Rowan gets whenever Cilla texts him."
"Speaking of dopey looks," I deflect, nodding toward Rowan, "how's it going with the professor?"
Rowan's face lights up, predictably. "She's amazing. She brought her dogs over last night, and we grilled on the deck. Simple stuff, but..." He shrugs, unable to contain his smile.
"But it feels like everything," I finish for him, understanding completely.
Cole sets down his lumber and wipes sweat from his brow, studying me with newfound interest. "Holy shit. You've got it bad for someone." He turns to Rowan. "Our boy's whipped."
"I'm not whipped," I protest, reaching for my nail gun.
"Is it Cilla's sister?" Rowan asks, his voice is casual but his eyes sharp. "Prue?"
I hesitate, hammer halfway to a nail. There's no point lying to these guys. They've known me since high school, saw me through my worst after Afghanistan, and we built this business together from nothing.
"Yeah," I admit. "It's Prue."
Cole whoops so loudly that a few birds scatter from a nearby tree. "Damn! Fox Carmichael actually likes a woman enough to remember her name. Mark the calendar, Rowan."
"Shut up," I mutter, but there's no heat in my words.
"So what's the deal?" Rowan asks, more serious now. "You two hooked up after our double date?"
"Something like that. However, that wasn't a double date, if you recall. We made it one." I'm not giving them details. What happened between Prue and me feels private in a way casual hookups never have before. "She went back to Seattle, and I have no idea when I’ll see her again."
"And you've been glued to your phone ever since," Cole observes. "Not your usual love 'em and leave 'em approach."
I shoot him a look. "When's the last time you saw me with a woman, Cole? It's been what, two years?"
"Two and a half," Rowan corrects. "Since Amber's New Year's party."
"Exactly." I drive a nail home with more force than necessary. "I'm not the same guy I was after getting back from deployment. You know that."
Cole has the decency to look contrite. "Sorry, man. Old habits, assuming you're still?—"
"Sleeping around?" I finish for him. "I got tired of it. Empty beds, emptier conversations. What's the point?"
A silence falls between us, broken only by the rhythmic thud of hammers and the distant call of seagulls from the bay. Finally, Rowan speaks.
"So Prue's different?"
The question hangs in the air. Is Prue different? I've known her all of a week and spent one night with her. But the way my heart races when her name appears on my phone—yeah, something's different.
"She's smart," I say finally. "Calls me on my shit. Makes me laugh. And she sees things—details most people miss."
"Sounds like my kind of woman," Cole jokes, then raises his hands in surrender when I glare at him. "Kidding! Jesus, you really are gone for her."
"I just like her, that's all." I turn back to the frame I'm working on. "But she lives in Seattle and has her business there. I'm here. It's complicated."
"Three hours," Rowan shrugs. "That's nothing."
"Says the guy whose girlfriend lives down the street," I counter.
"Fair point." He grabs another nail. "But Cilla told me Prue visits at least once a month. It has for years. Maybe more now that Cilla's moved here permanently."
I hadn't thought of that. The idea of seeing Prue once a month—it's not enough, but it's something.
"Besides," Cole adds, "you've got weekends. You're the boss, so take a Friday off sometimes. Drive up to see her."
"You two are awfully invested in my love life all of a sudden," I mutter.
"Because you have one now," Rowan says, his tone gentler. "Look, Fox, we've been worried about you. Since Sarah?—"
"Don't," I cut him off. "That was years ago."
"And you haven't let anyone close since," he continues, undeterred. "If Prue's got you checking your phone every five minutes and smiling like an idiot, she's special. Don't blow it because you're scared."
"I'm not scared," I say automatically, though we all know it's a lie.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fight the urge to grab it immediately. Cole and Rowan exchange knowing looks.
"Go ahead," Cole says, gesturing toward my pocket. "We know you're dying to check it."
I try to look annoyed as I pull out my phone, but the annoyance fades as soon as I see her name.
Prue: Client just left. They went with the herringbone, exactly like I predicted. Sometimes, I think I should charge extra for being right.
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.
"See?" Rowan says, pointing at me. "That look right there. That's how I knew Cilla was the one."
"The one?" I echo the phrase, setting off alarm bells. "It's been a week, man."
"Sometimes you just know," he shrugs.
Cole makes a gagging sound. "When did you two become such saps? Next, you'll pick out china patterns and name your future children."
But I'm barely listening, my thumb hovering over the screen as I compose a reply.
Me: You should definitely charge more. Expertise like that doesn't come cheap.
Her response is immediate.
Prue: Flattery will get you everywhere, Carmichael.
"Earth to Fox," Cole says, waving a hand before my face. "We've still got a wall to finish before quitting time."
I pocket my phone reluctantly. "Right. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Rowan says, handing me a level. "Be happy. It looks good on you."
Three hours later, we've finished framing the north wall and called it a day. The sun sets over the bay, casting long shadows across the construction site as we pack our tools.
"Beer at The Anchor?" Cole suggests as he does most Fridays.
"I can't," Rowan says. Cilla's cooking dinner. You're welcome to join us, though."
Cole shakes his head. "No thanks. I've seen enough googly eyes today." He turns to me. "Fox? Beer? Or are you too busy texting your girlfriend?"
"She's not my—" I start, then stop myself. What is she, exactly? "Rain check. I've got plans."
"Plans?" Cole raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"
I think of driving to Seattle, the idea forming even as I speak. I imagine surprising Prue and seeing if this thing between us can be more than texts and memories.
"Just plans," I say, loading my toolbox into the back of my truck. "See you Monday."
As I drive home, my mind races with possibilities. It's crazy to drive three hours on a whim. I don't even know if Prue will want to see me. But the thought of waiting until her next visit to Cedar Bay feels impossible suddenly.
When I arrive, my cabin is quiet, just the sound of the waves against the shore below. I shower quickly, changing into clean jeans and a dark blue button-down that Sarah once said brought out my eyes.
Sarah. I haven't thought about her in months, but now, standing in front of my mirror, I wonder what she'd think of Prue. They're nothing alike—Sarah's calculated moves and practiced smiles, Prue's unfiltered honesty and genuine laugh.
I grab my phone, hesitating only briefly before calling instead of texting.
Prue answers on the third ring. "Fox?"
Just the sound of her voice sends a current through me. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just—" I take a breath. "What would you say if I told you I was thinking about driving to Seattle tonight?"
The silence stretches between us long enough that I start to regret asking.
"I'd say that's a three-hour drive," she finally replies. "And it's already past six."
"I know."
"And you'd get here late."
"I know that too."
Another pause. "Why would you do that?"
Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because every text makes me want to see your face. Because one night wasn't nearly enough.
"Because I want to see you," I say simply. "But if it's too much, or too soon?—"
"No," she interrupts. "I mean, yes. I mean—" She takes a breath. "I want to see you too."
Relief floods through me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she confirms. "But Fox, I don't want you driving that late. It's not safe."
Her concern warms something in my chest. "I've driven worse roads in worse conditions."
"Still," she insists. "What about tomorrow? You could come up in the morning, stay the night, drive back Sunday?"
The idea of spending a whole weekend with Prue sends my pulse racing. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."
She laughs, the sound like music through the phone. "You're inviting yourself to my city. Might as well do it properly."
"Okay," I agree. "Tomorrow morning, then."
"Text me when you leave," she says. "I'll send you my address."
After we hang up, I stand in my living room, heart pounding like I've run a mile. I'm going to see Prue tomorrow and spend the night with her.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Prue: For the record, this doesn't mean anything. Just two adults enjoying each other's company. No expectations.
I smile, recognizing the self-protective tone I'm coming to know well.
Me: Of course. Just two adults. Who happen to be very attracted to each other.
Prue: Exactly.
Me: And who can't stop thinking about each other?
There's a longer pause before her reply.
Prue: Don't push it, Carmichael.
Me: Wouldn't dream of it, Griffin.
I set my phone down, still smiling. Tomorrow can't come fast enough.