CHAPTER NINE FALLON #4
“The fifties also meant the death of the classic crooner—a loss Sully didn’t take lightly. But anyway, Jaz vetoed my selection rather quickly when I asked Alexa to shuffle my fifties playlist. It doesn’t help that the first song she played was an old twangy country song.”
Sawyer winces. “Yeah, you’re not going to win over anyone with that choice.
” He hands me the measurements he needs on a piece of paper—we’ve found that’s easier than him saying them out loud, which was getting confusing.
While I cut, he starts lining up the next row.
“When you’re not listening to the best of the fifties, what are you listening to? ”
I bite my lip. “The best of the sixties.”
He chuckles. “So, you’re a classic kind of listener.”
“Jaz and Peter both think I need help. I don’t know, I just grew up listening to it here at the cabins with my grandparents, and it feels wrong to listen to anything else, you know?”
“Makes sense. It’s more than nostalgic for you—the music, the lyrics actually mean something.”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling weird because... am I actually having a conversation with Sawyer? A legit conversation. I’m not sure we’ve ever had one of these. And I’m actually enjoying it.
Not only are we having a conversation that doesn’t involve being overly polite just to move on with our day, but he actually gets me—and that freaks me out.
The man who once found his phone more interesting than me can now understand my music choice in just a few minutes. I’m not sure what to think about that.
“What would you be listening to?” I ask.
He snaps in a few boards. “I tend to go on artist binges, not necessarily by genre or era.”
“Okay, so who are you bingeing right now?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
He hands me back the piece of paper. “Because it’s embarrassing, and I think I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you enough for a lifetime.”
“What music could possibly be embarrassing?” I glance at the paper and cut more boards.
“Trust me, it’s embarrassing.”
“Try me.”
Still kneeling, he looks up at me from his spot on the floor. I watch him waver between telling me and not telling me, but then he lets out a resigned sigh. “Wilson Phillips.”
A snort pops out of me, and I cover my nose. “Wilson Phillips, as in the all-female pop group known for singing ‘Hold On’? They have more than one song?”
He narrows his eyes. “That’s offensive. Of course they have more than one song.”
“Uh-huh, and how many times a day do you listen to ‘Hold On’?”
“Enough,” he answers, avoiding my gaze. I let out a shocked laugh.
“How many?”
He lifts from the floor and walks toward me, a smile playing at his lips. “At least five.” A loud laugh falls past my lips as he rests his hands on the table where I’ve laid down my saw. “Do not tell Jaz that—it’s bad enough she calls me Julia.”
“Oh... there’s no way I can’t tell her. I’m sorry in advance.”
“I’d like to say you’re cruel, but in a weird way, I understand your need to share. It’s not the kind of information you can hold close to your heart.”
“It is not,” I say. “It’s something that needs to be passed around. Vital information.”
He takes a sip from his water bottle and then removes the wood from my saw table. “I should have never said anything.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. But I preyed on the weak, and I’m not even upset about it.”
“I can tell from the wide grin on your face.” As he walks back to his spot on the floor, he twists his baseball cap around so it’s backward on his head and sticks the pencil he’s using up into the hat, on the side of his face, as he snaps more boards in.
While he’s crouched on the floor, my eyes wander to the corded muscles in his forearms, the way they ripple with every board he puts in place. I don’t recall Sawyer being this... muscular on our date. Then again, I don’t recall much of him that night.
He looks so at ease with what he’s doing.
I know he said he’s done this before, but I wasn’t expecting for him to be so quick, so efficient.
I also wasn’t expecting him to be this easy to talk to.
When I said I could use his help, I was mentally prepared for another silent night from him, but when he started asking questions, bantering back and forth with ease, I immediately felt comfortable. Color me surprised.
We’ll be done tonight, and that is a huge weight off my shoulders. It means I can move forward with finishing the lobby and then start on the cabins. Just one step closer to saving everything.
I hate to admit it, but... letting him help was a great idea. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to pull through these renovations a lot faster than I expected.
Fallon: picture Floors are done.
Jaz: What the actual hell? Holy shit, Fallon. What kind of wizardry did you do to pull this off?
Fallon: Julia walked in and asked if I needed help. Turns out, he’s pretty good at laying floor down.
Jaz: Wait ... Julia did that?
Fallon: He did.
Jaz: Oh, look at him being useful. Why is that irritating?
Fallon: I found it irritating too. I think it’s because we saw him at his worst, so we expect him to be that same guy, drunk and barely able to walk.
Jaz: That feels right. Wow, so what does that mean for tomorrow?
Fallon: New furniture assembly and decorating. Bring your camera so we can take pictures.
Jaz: Done. I’m impressed. Maybe next time I see Julia, I’ll ease up a bit.
Fallon: Oh, get this, his current music binge is Wilson Phillips.
Jaz: Scratch that, there’s no way I can’t give him shit for that.
Fallon: He’s expecting it.