Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
News like this wasn’t something to deliver over the phone. It only took Luke about five minutes to admit he needed to tell Keaton about the Thompson project to his face. If he got lucky, maybe Keaton would be intrigued enough to offer to help as time allowed. At the very least, it would get his friend out of the office and away from obsessing over the bids waiting for a decision.
“Call Keaton,” Luke directed to his Bluetooth. Ringing blared through the speakers of his truck, piercing the silence.
Right when he thought he’d gotten lucky and Keaton wouldn’t answer, the call connected. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Thought maybe you had a hot date tonight. You’re too pretty to sit around feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Aww, I’m flattered you thought of me,” Keaton teased. This sort of easy banter was typical for them. Keaton had always been the one person Luke didn’t have to worry about hiding parts of himself from, and Luke was the same for his friend. “But if you haven’t managed to wear me down in almost twenty years, it might be time to realize I just don’t see you like that.”
“Very funny, fucker,” Luke shot back. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, knowing Keaton was going to give him shit for agreeing to help Noah fix up his house. Luke needed to make him see that not everyone lived and breathed Anderson Homeworks. “I was thinking about heading over to Brew & Barrel to grab a bite to eat, and I know damned well you haven’t even thought about dinner yet.”
The only thing worse than a stressed-out Keaton was a hangry Keaton. They could chat over burgers, and once he had a full belly and a stiff drink to mellow him a bit, then Luke would tell him about the diamond in the rough at the edge of town. Doing it at the local bar seemed right since it was also where they shared dinner once a week so they could talk about what was happening with various clients.
“I don’t know, man. I have some things I need to get done before I head home,” Keaton hedged.
Luke rolled his eyes. Before long, he fully expected Keaton to turn the old office over the workshop into an apartment so he could truly live and breathe the family business. The man seriously needed to learn some balance. “I know for a fact that nothing on your desk will self-destruct if you take a break. Come on, it’s bad enough you were supposed to go to Murphy’s with me last weekend and bailed. You owe me.”
“I told you my dad wanted to talk to me about some shit.” It didn’t matter how old Keaton was or that his dad had technically handed the business over to him because he knew Keaton would keep the family legacy alive. Keaton still jumped any time his dad called because he was deathly afraid of letting his old man down. Not that he’d ever admit he was chasing approval he’d already earned.
“Yeah, and he would have waited if you’d told him you were going out to get laid for a change.” Luke admired the relationship Keaton and his dad had and how different it was from his own family. While both families were supportive of their gay sons, Michael Anderson didn’t hold any expectations that Keaton would fall into a heteronormative life with a spouse, kids, and a picket fence. He was all about wanting his son to live life on his own terms, which was ironic as hell since Keaton was doing his damnedest to do the exact opposite. “Get your ass down to Brew & Barrel. Otherwise, I’ll drive to the shop and drag you out of there by your ear.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Keaton scoffed. Luke winced as the shrill screech of the desk drawer closing echoed through the truck cab. “Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen, but you’re buying the first round.”
“Expected nothing less. See you there.” Luke ended the call as he pulled into the gravel lot behind what had originally been Maple Hill’s general store. He scanned the parking lot for cars he recognized, hoping he and Keaton wouldn’t be bombarded by former classmates wanting to talk about the glory days of their youth. And there always seemed to be someone who couldn’t let go of his teens perched at the end of the bar nursing one more beer than was prudent.
“Luke!” Sam called out as soon as he came into view. Samantha Ortiz had been friends with Luke’s younger brother and, as such, claimed to have adopted Luke as the big brother she never had. He didn’t pull out a stool since they were having dinner tonight but leaned against the bar while she drew him a pint of their in-house IPA. “So, I heard you had an interesting run-in at your sister’s place the other day.”
Luke groaned. Shit like this was the main drawback to living in Maple Hill. It was never, “ Hey, Luke, I heard you got the Holmes project done a week early, ” or “ Hey, Luke, great job on that chair you built for the senior center. ” Only the most embarrassing, intrusive moments spread like wildfire.
“Megan has a big mouth,” Luke complained.
“She said Austin is a sweet guy. Sexy too.” Sam waggled her eyebrows, leaning against the bar, her hands tucked neatly under her chin. At least she had the good grace to lower her voice while she continued ribbing him. “Was he bad in the sack or something? It’d be a shame if someone who got your sister all flustered like that was a two-pump chump.”
“Eww, do you even hear yourself right now?” Luke shuddered, adding dramatic gagging noises for effect. “First of all, I highly doubt Drew would appreciate you implying his wife was perving on a gay dude. And second, it’s none of your damned business how my very gay hookup from last weekend made me come my brains out, screaming for him to slam his dick into me harder.”
Luke wasn’t one for talking with Sam about his conquests, but she’d earned this much. He knew damned well that dirty girl would spend the rest of the night imagining Luke getting his ass plowed by the unassuming insurance rep. No, the issue with Austin had nothing to do with their connection in bed, and everything to do with the fact he’d been dull as a plastic spoon when they weren’t fucking. Which was a damned shame because Luke had to admit the night had been memorable, even if he hadn’t remembered Austin’s name until Sam divulged it.
Sam threw a damp bar towel at his head. “You’re such a jerk. If you’re going to tease me like that, the least you could do is wait for me to go on break so you can give me the sordid details.”
“You really don’t see how fucked up it is that you love hearing about my sex life, do you?” One night when Sam was at Brew & Barrel as a patron, trying to drink away memories of her own failed love life, she’d admitted that her Tbr pile was almost exclusively scorching hot gay romance novels. “Seriously, if guys weren’t such jerks, I’d wish I was a gay man. The straight guys I’ve met are only worried about getting themselves off. If the woman comes, it’s an added bonus they’ll brag about like they’re Lexington Steele or something.”
“Sounds to me like you should put more effort into finding a guy who isn’t a selfish bag of dicks and less time with your nose in a book and a hand in your pants,” Luke teased. If she wanted to talk about his sex life, turnabout was fair play.
“Not gonna happen.” Sam’s shoulders slumped forward. “No one wants a woman who’s in school during the day, working until bar time, and trying to steal every minute she can studying so she doesn’t have to serve booze to dickheads who refuse to grow up for the rest of her life.”
At that last bit, she leveled an icy glare toward Travis Dean, who was sitting at the end of the bar, his eyes already glassy. Luke’s Spidey senses went on high alert. “Need me to kick someone’s ass? Tell me you didn’t hook up with him.”
Even the dim lighting of the bar couldn’t hide Sam’s flushed cheeks. “He’s not a bad guy. When he’s sober.”
“Yeah, and there’s the whole problem. He’s not a fan of anything he can’t do with a drink in one hand.” Maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment, but it was the reputation Travis had earned since his high school sweetheart filed for divorce and skipped town in the middle of the night. “You deserve better than someone who’s hung up on his ex.”
“Excuse me if I’m not eager to take dating advice from the person who doesn’t even remember the names of the guys he begs to fuck him through the mattress.” Sam huffed out a heavy sigh. “You know, now that I think about it, maybe penises in general are the issue. They make you men stupid.”
“Hard to disagree with that.” Luke turned at the sound of Keaton’s voice behind him. “And you’re talking to one of the dullest pencils in the box. Been telling him since we were teenagers that I’m never going to like him that way and he still calls me up, begging for a date.”
“Fuck you, Anderson,” Luke scoffed. “I wouldn’t have to insist on wasting my free time with you if you knew when to quit working. If I didn’t ask you to meet me for a bite to eat, you’d waste away to nothing.”
Keaton patted the slight paunch everyone knew damned well was more muscle than flab. “Yeah, really in danger of that happening. Come on, time for you to quit playing Doctor Ruth and leave Sam alone.” He swiped two menus off the bar. “Is there a server tonight, or should I come up and order for us so he doesn’t pester you anymore?”
“Jules just started last week, so be nice,” Sam warned, as if Keaton and Luke made a habit of being pricks to their servers. Even if they hadn’t been raised right, no way would they do anything that made them look bad in town. Keaton wouldn’t allow it. “I’ll send them over once you guys are settled. Want your drinks on the dinner tab?”
“Yeah, and let Jules know Luke’s buying.” Luke simply shrugged. If Keaton was in a rare enough mood to not fight to cover the tab, Luke wasn’t about to argue. Besides, by the time he finished explaining all the reasons he needed to help Noah fix up the old Queen Anne, he had a feeling Keaton would move on to something much stronger than beer.
Jules appeared at their table moments after they settled into their usual booth, their dark curls escaping from a messy bun secured with what appeared to be two pencils. “Hey, guys, I’m Jules. Sam told me to let you know she’s warned me about you. She said you’re regulars around here.”
Luke studied the server, trying to figure them out. He didn’t want to screw up by shoving his foot in his mouth, but Jules intrigued him. If the tentative smile on Keaton’s face said anything, his friend was having a similar dilemma. Luke had never met someone who so completely embraced the concept of androgyny.
“We’re usually here on Thursday nights,” Keaton replied, his usual brusque tone softening slightly. “Unless someone”—he shot Luke a pointed look—“ditches me for a hookup.”
“That was one time,” Luke protested. “And I texted. Besides, it’s not like you have room to talk, Mr. Workaholic.”
“An eggplant emoji isn’t a text.” Keaton turned back to Jules. “I’ll have the bacon burger, medium, with sweet potato fries.”
Jules jotted down his order, their lips twitching. “And for you?” they asked Luke.
“Same, but regular fries. And another round when you get a chance?”
“No problem.” Jules gathered their menus, their bangles jingling softly. “I’ll put your order in right away.”
Luke waited until Jules was out of earshot before grinning at Keaton. “Smooth.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Luke sipped his beer, watching his friend’s ears turn pink. “Just noticed you didn’t grunt your order like a caveman for once.”
“Shut up.” Keaton fiddled with his napkin. “So, what’s this about? You didn’t drag me out to critique my social skills.”
Now that Keaton had asked, there was no way he could wait until after they’d eaten to break the news. He took another long drink, gathering his thoughts. “You know the old Queen Anne on Maple Street?”
“The money pit? Yeah, heard someone finally bought it.” Keaton’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Yeah, Noah Thompson lives there now,” Luke told him, watching his features for any hint of reaction. “That’s why Rachel’s been hounding me about helping him.”
“Oh goodie, a neighbor in need who just happens to be the guy you used to spank it to when you were a kid,” Keaton scoffed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, casting his gaze upward. “Lord help me.”
“I did not jerk off thinking about him.” Not often, at least. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Really? Because I think Rachel asked you to look at the place, and instead of saying no like you swore you were going to, you got sucked in by those big brown eyes that had you volunteering to ‘fix things’ in the basement every time he came over to study.”
“That was different.” Luke felt heat creep up his neck. “I was fifteen, and he was just…there. A lot.”
“Uh-huh.” Keaton leaned back, crossing his arms. “And now?”
“He needs someone who’s not going to nickel-and-dime him to death.” Luke traced patterns in the condensation on his glass. “You should see the place, Keaton. The structure itself is decent, but whoever flipped it did a hack job. With some real work…”
“We have a major project starting Monday.” Luke had never seen Keaton this worked up over a project. He wondered if something had happened between him and his dad because that was about the only time he got like this.
“I know.”
“The biggest contract we’ve landed.”
“So you’ve told all of us about a million times.” While he understood where Keaton was coming from, what Luke did on his own time was no one’s business but his own. And it wasn’t as if he were begging off work to help Noah. This was something he’d fit in after normal working hours, even if those working hours were long and painful.
“And you’re still going to help him, aren’t you?” Keaton drained half his pint in one long gulp. It was a good thing he’d told Jules to bring the next round when they came back.
Luke met his friend’s gaze steadily. “You didn’t see his kid’s face, Keaton. Or how Noah looks at that house like it’s both his biggest dream and worst nightmare. They deserve better than what some asshole house flipper left them with.”
Jules returned with fresh beers, and both men fell silent. Once they were alone again, Keaton sighed. “You’re going to do this whether I think it’s a good idea or not, aren’t you?”
“Pretty much.” Luke offered a slight smile. “But I was hoping you might help. Not with the labor—I know you’re swamped. Maybe access to our suppliers? Better rates on materials? I don’t know for certain what’s going on, but his kid deserves a place without a furnace that sounds like monsters or Super Soaker leaks in the kitchen.”
“And what happens when you fall for him?”
Luke snorted at the absurdity of Keaton’s suggestion. He was not going to fall for him. Too bad we weren’t talking about this where Sam could hear. She’d find the idea of him falling hopelessly in love as ludicrous as he did. It seemed like she was the only person in town who understood his reluctance to tie himself to anyone.
“This isn’t one of your anonymous hookups. He’s straight. And I know you think you’re immune to feelings, but someday, you’re going to get knocked on your ass when love sneaks up on you.”
“I’m not—” Luke stopped, frustrated. “It’s not like that. He’s straight, has a kid, and probably doesn’t remember anything about me beyond being Megan and Rachel’s annoying little brother.”
“Right.” Keaton took a long drink. “Because you’ve always been so good at keeping things casual, which means it’s impossible for you to experience shit like emotional attachment.”
The words hit closer to home than Luke wanted to admit. “Exactly.”
“Yeah, I call bullshit.” Keaton’s expression softened. “Look, you know I’ll help however I can. Just…be careful, okay? Not everyone sees the world like you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you see the best in everything—houses, people, situations. It’s what makes you great at what you do. But sometimes…” Keaton paused as Jules arrived with their food. “Sometimes you can be blind to what’s happening close to you. In this case, it sounds like his kid is close to a bad case of hero worship already. What happens when your resolve fractures and shit gets weird between the two of you?”
Luke watched Jules smile at Keaton before heading to their next table. “Again, not going to happen.”
They ate in uncomfortable silence, the conversations around them creating a familiar backdrop. Finally, Keaton set down his burger.
“Use the company account for materials,” he said. “But I want detailed records of everything so Finn can keep the accounts organized. You know how he’ll be if an invoice comes in he can’t attach it to a job. And if it interferes with the Tillerman project?—”
“It won’t.” Luke grinned. “Thanks, boss.”
“Don’t call me that.” Keaton flagged Jules down for another round. “And, Luke? If this goes sideways…”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Luke waved away his friend’s concern. He watched as Jules scribbled something on Keaton’s receipt that made his friend’s ears turn pink again. He quickly pulled out his credit card to pay, despite what he’d said earlier. Luke was dying to know what was on the back of the receipt. “Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to be careful.”
Keaton stuffed the receipt in his pocket, but not before Luke caught a glimpse of a phone number. “Eat your burger before it gets cold.”
Later, as they headed to their cars, Keaton caught Luke’s arm. “The house—it’s really worth saving?”
Luke thought of Eli’s excitement, of Noah’s quiet determination, of all the stories waiting to be uncovered within those walls. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It really is.”
“Then make it count.” Keaton’s expression was unreadable in the parking lot’s dim light. “Just remember—some things can’t be fixed with tools and good intentions.”
Luke watched his friend drive away, Keaton’s words settling like sawdust in his chest. He was right, of course. Some things couldn’t be fixed.
But as Luke thought about Noah’s almost smile, about Eli’s colorful disaster map, about all the possibilities waiting in the old house…he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, some things were worth the risk of trying.