17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter seventeen
R yder
I couldn’t remember the last time I was so furious. How dare they talk to Brennan like that? The only thing that kept me from saying what I really thought was that it was his parents. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve taken that phone away from him and given them a piece of my mind.
I should’ve turned around and walked back out when I realized it was a personal call, but I got caught up in hearing him so happy.
Any idiot could’ve heard the pride in his voice when he first started telling them about the job.
What kind of parent would try to steal that from their child?
Not one worth him getting upset over, that’s for damn sure.
I thought he was feeling a little better by the time I left, and seeing him in a better mood made me a little less angry.
I still wanted to drive to wherever the hell he was from and have a friendly little talk with his father but instead, I took it out on the demolition of the wall between the kitchen and the dining room in the house we were working on.
“Damn, hoss,” Desi said midafternoon. “I figured since you went to see your boy for lunch, you’d be in a better mood, not worse.”
“He is not my boy,” I grumbled. “And my mood is just fine.”
“If you say so,” he said, bending down and picking up a piece of debris to carry out to the dumpster.
“I do,” I insisted. Not that I didn’t think Brennan would be an excellent boy, I just couldn’t afford to think of him that way. He was my employee, and that’s what I needed to remember.
“And then the son of a bitch told him he needed to move back home and get a real job. Can you believe that shit?” I asked Owen.
I rarely went to the bar on Tuesday, but I was still fuming about that phone call by the time I knocked off work, and I figured I’d might as well go by and complain to Owen.
The bar was usually pretty slow on Tuesdays, which meant he would have plenty of time to listen to me.
“Sounds like my old man,” he said, handing me a second beer. “He was never satisfied with anything I did. You’d think owning my own business would do it, but no, he just wanted to know why I didn’t choose something more respectable than a bar.”
“Exactly. I got the feeling that no matter what Brennan did, it wouldn’t be enough.”
“That’s a shame. He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is, and he’s great at his job. You wouldn’t believe how much better things are running. My files are organized, my invoices are going out on time, and now he’s set his sights on my social media presence.”
“Do you have a social media presence?” Owen asked.
“No, and he’s decided the business needs one.”
“Makes sense to me.”
“I’m not convinced. My business mostly comes from word of mouth.
I don’t really think many people are trolling Facebook looking for someone to remodel their bathroom.
” I thought back to how proud Brennan was about his idea for getting that set up, and how cute he was when he was excited about something.
“What?” Owen asked.
“Nothing, I was just thinking about how excited he was about setting up that page,” I said with a chuckle.
Owen tilted his head to one side and studied me. “You better do something to lock that boy in, Ryder. He is sweet, and he is pretty. If you think he’ll stay single long, you’ve got another think coming.”
“He works for me, Owen. That’s all. There’s nothing to lock in .”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that until someone comes along and gives him the world, the way you want to. Because they will.”
My foul mood lasted the rest of the week.
Between being furious that a boy as sweet as Brennan had a family like that, and thinking about what Owen said, I was a bear to be around.
I managed to fake it for the few minutes I saw Brennan each morning, but at work, Desi knew something was off.
I kept telling him it was nothing, but he didn’t believe me.
That was one of the downsides of working with someone you not only considered a friend, but someone who’d also known you for years.
Finally on Friday, when I lost my cool over a piece of lumber that was cut the wrong length, he’d had enough. “Listen here, Hoss, I don’t know what your issue is, but you need to get a grip. What is it?”
I rolled my head from side to side, trying to loosen up the tight muscles in my shoulders. They’d been tense all week, and I was feeling it today. “It’s Brennan,” I admitted.
“Brennan? I thought it was working out great with him. And the Facebook page is awesome. My neighbor even asked me about one of the pictures he saw. Said he was thinking about redoing his bathroom, and he really liked what we did in the Augustines’ bath.”
“Really?” I smiled. “He told me people loved to look at pictures online of house projects. Guess he was right.”
“They do. So what’s up with him? Is he not doing a good job?”
“No, he’s doing a fantastic job. It’s not that.
It’s just—” I paused, trying to get my thoughts together.
Desi just stood there waiting, giving me time.
“I can’t stop thinking about a conversation I overheard where his father was telling him this job wasn’t good enough for him.
Not that he was wrong, he’s great at his job, and he could be working somewhere a lot more prestigious.
But I got the feeling that his dad is really critical, and Brennan deserves better, you know.
He doesn’t need someone trying to make him feel small.
He needs someone to tell him how amazing he is and what a good job he does. Not just at work, but in life.”
“And you want that someone to be you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But he’s young, and I don’t know if he likes the same kinds of things I like.”
“He’s not that young. He’s what, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-four.”
“That’s only fourteen years difference. That’s not that much. Besides, twenty-four is plenty old enough to know what he wants.”
“Shit, Desi, I’m thirty-eight, and I don’t even know what I want.”
“Sure you do. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“You and Owen,” I grumbled.
“What about me and the hot bartender?” he asked, using Angela’s nickname for Owen.
“He said basically the same thing to me the other day. Told me I needed to stop messing around or someone else would move in and sweep Brennan off his feet.”
“You should listen to us. We’re very smart men.”