Chapter 30 Middle Child Syndrome
Calder
“Calder... can you run to the lumber yard tonight and pick up the shipment that just came in?”
My head jerks toward Wyatt who’s standing in our Boulder workshop barking orders at me just like Dad used to.
“Why isn’t Luke going? He always goes to the lumber yard.”
Luke’s head pops up from behind his computer, and the grimace on his face is unmistakable. “Roe and I are kind of in a fight.”
“I thought you weren’t fucking her.”
“I’m not.”
“Then how are you in a fight with her?”
“It’s none of your damn business, okay?” Luke snaps, his jaw taut as he dives back into whatever the fuck he does on that
thing. “Plus, I have to email these engineers about the ag land we’re buying for the new development. They’ve been waiting
on me all week.”
I sigh and turn back to Wyatt. “I have shit to do tonight. I need to work on the shelves I’m making for Dakota’s shop.”
Wyatt cuts me a look. “I know what that’s code for.”
“It’s not code for shit. I have to get them done.” Which is partially true. Wyatt doesn’t need to know the plans I have for
later with Dakota. It’s none of his damn business. He gets to cuddle up with his family and take a break. Why can’t I have
a moment to myself with Dakota?
“The shelves can wait,” he barks, his eyes turning to slits on me. “We need that lumber tonight to get an early start tomorrow. Just take the shop truck and stop bitching. If you hurry you might get back up to the mountain before dark.”
“Fuck.” I slam my tools down onto the workbench, irritated as shit that he’s just throwing this on me now. I stomp my way
out of the shop, grabbing the keys off the hook before I head out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I grumble again as I swing open the
shop door and turn on my heels to slam it shut.
It’s only when I turn back around that I realize what a monstrous fit I’m throwing, because I am now staring into the eyes
of a very unimpressed looking Johanna Fletcher.
“Calder Fletcher, what on earth has gotten into you?” I glance down at her hands to see she’s holding a tray of cookies and
a six-pack of beer. Mom often shows up after five with treats when she knows we’re all working overtime, but I am not in the
mood.
“Mom,” I state woodenly and shuffle my way around her to head to the truck. “I gotta run.”
“Stop right there.”
I grip the driver’s side handle and turn on my heel to face her. “What?”
Her brows lift. “Come again?”
I close my eyes and lick my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated with my brothers, and I took my anger out on the door and
a hammer I threw in there.”
“Is there any blood?” she asks, her tone grave and overly dramatic.
“No, jeez. I didn’t chuck the hammer at anyone. I just chucked it at the workbench. Everyone is fine. I’m sure if you go in
there, you can have a nice chat with your two golden boys.” I turn to open the truck door, but my mom zips over and forces
it shut with her hip.
“What’s going on?” She sets the beer down on the ground and opens up her container of cookies.
She hands me one, and I take an agitated bite, mumbling around a mouthful.
“I have a lot on my plate right now, and I’m getting sick of always being the grunt boy around here.
Luke is being Luke, aka a little whiney baby who can’t do anything for himself.
And Wyatt is busy being a family man, and I’m happy for him, I am, but I just feel like no one gives a fuck about what I need to do with my spare time. ”
“What do you need to do, honey?” She tilts her head, her eyes softening as she looks up at me.
And it’s irritating as fuck that she even needs to ask. Like she needs proof that I have a life outside of this job and my
family. “Just stuff.”
“Does this have anything to do with Dakota?”
I hit her with a flat look. She’s been riding my ass about Dakota ever since I showered at her place, and I’m sure she knows
the truth by now. Luke has a big mouth, and he’s always on the phone to our mother, gossiping like a little hen. Total fucking
mama’s boy.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” I grip the back of my neck and avoid eye contact. “Dakota and I are just friends.”
“Sounds like you’ve been spending a lot of time with her,” she offers, and I can feel her eyes burrowing into me, trying to
read my mind.
“Not that much time.” I shrug dismissively and stuff the rest of the cookie in my mouth.
“Not what Luke says.”
“Luke needs to get a life,” I mumble around a mouthful of chocolate chip.
“Maybe you’re frustrated because you like her as more than just a friend.” Her brows lift knowingly, and I feel my defenses
rising with her words.
The thoughts I was having with Dakota at the hockey rink are not something I’m trying to give life to. I was able to kind
of dismiss all that possessive jealousy as intrusive thoughts during sex. Just caveman bullshit and not something to be taken
seriously.
But the way I looked for her in the stands as soon as I scored a goal in the third period?
I’m embarrassed.
Somehow, I’ve morphed from this sex-adventurous, mountain man playboy to a guy looking for a smile from his girl. It’s crazy
how having someone you want to impress in the crowd can motivate the fuck out of you. I never played hockey that good even
in high school.
And the kiss I laid on her in the parking lot after we were done?
Fucking fireworks.
And it was just a kiss.
I have to get my head on straight. This is a limited-time only arrangement. I can’t keep thinking this is more than what it
is: phenomenal fucking with a sexy-ass woman who will have no problems finding her dream man after we’re done.
“Maybe you should see if she wants to be more than just friends?”
“I’m not going to do that, Mom,” I answer firmly, because if I don’t make this clear she will get her hopes up.
If it was up to my mother, all her boys would be married with multiple children each by now and she’d have a swarm of grandkids
at her house every weekend. I could see how much baby Stevie has helped with her grief the past few months. She still tears
up when she talks about Dad, but there’s new purpose to her life. And her close relationship with Trista has been good for
her too. Of course, we all still miss him, but the new additions to the family are things we know he’d be proud of, so that
helps with some of the sadness. And since I have no intentions of giving her any grandkids, the one thing I can do is honor
my dad’s legacy for her by continuing the family business. So why am I being such a little bitch?
“You know what your father would say?” she says, pulling me from my thoughts as she hits me with a teasing smile. “He’d say
‘Shit or get off the pot.’”
I laugh at those crass words coming from my sweet mother’s mouth. It’s unexpected, but she’s so right. I can literally hear
his voice in my head.
He never liked how casual me, Wyatt, and Luke were with women, but he always said that as long as we were clear and not stringing someone along, then he didn’t care what we got up to.
In my heart of hearts, I don’t feel like I’m stringing Dakota along. We both know what we signed up for, and it’s way too
early to cut and run. I have to see this through with her, if not for myself, then for her.
She needs this.
And I need her to be good when we end this, or the guilt will haunt me just like it already has for the past seven years.
I’m not going to fall for her. I’m just enjoying myself a bit. And with the bullshit I have going on at work with my brothers,
I deserve this.
“Thanks for the talk, Mom, but I have to get going.” I lean in and brush a kiss to her cheek, ignoring the way her pensive
eyes follow me as I hop in the truck and get my ass back to work. That’s clearly all I’m good for these days.