2. Dutton
Dutton
W hat the hell am I doing? I should just go back to the city already. I’m not made for country living. Not at all. And I knew that way before I saw how the hunky landscaping guy first looked at me. Like I’m out of place.
Which I am. It takes me ten minutes just to drive to a town that has a grocery store, a bank, a gas station, and a couple of cutesy little shops and restaurants downtown. But no chain restaurants or coffee places. If I want a Target, I have to drive two hours.
What the hell?
How does anyone live here?
I should really just leave.
Hire the crew, get things in order to sell, and then just leave. I don’t fit in here at all. I’m not sure what the hell I was thinking, coming all the way out here from California. This could have been an email transaction, I’m pretty sure.
But I’m here.
“I saw on the website that you install in-ground hot tubs. Like stone ones?”
The man—Walker—nods his head as he looks around the unkempt land. “That we do. It’s actually my specialty. And you have plenty of land here for it. Would definitely appeal to potential buyers.”
I know I said I want to sell it—and I do—but the thought actually makes me queasy when I hear it out loud. And somehow, this rugged man seems to pick up on that.
His handsome face softens even more as he gives me a kind, reassuring smile. “Or if you decide to stay, it’ll be really nice. Great for parties.”
I snort at that. Pretty sure you have to make friends to have parties, and I don’t know the first thing about friending anyone around here. There’s no way I’ll have anything in common with anyone from Hayes, in the middle of nowhere Kansas. “I saw some pretty great examples on the website.”
He pulls out his phone and then frowns, the spot between his brows wrinkling in confusion, and I realize he was probably going to pull them up on his phone.
“Yeah. There’s no service out here. I’m lucky to have it inside the house and have to go to certain parts of the house for it to work.”
He chuckles, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Got it. We can look back at the house or you can send me the one you’re thinking about later. My phone number is on my card.” He takes one out of his pocket and hands it to me. “So you can text me anytime.”
Phew. I seriously doubt this guy plays for the same team I do, but I’m getting some vibes here. Maybe he’s just a straight guy who happens to flirt with anyone, but I swear there was more to the text me than just text me if you figure out what hot tub style you want .
“So anything else?” Right. He’s here for a job. I really need to get it together.
“Flowers. Pots on the porch, maybe. And a flower bed up front.” I glance up at the front of the house absently. “She liked those.”
“She?”
I realize what I said and look over at him. “Oh, um... my grandmother.” He nods slowly, and I really want to get back to talking about flowers and shit, not my messed-up family. “We should go up to the house so I can show you what hot tub I’m thinking about.”
I start that way, and he follows, but he doesn’t just talk about landscaping like I’d hoped. “Sorry I don’t mean to pry. You just kind of seem like you could use a friend. And I’m a really good friend.”
I stop walking and turn around to face him. “Friend?”
He stops too, grabbing the back of his neck with his hand and looking a little sheepish, then glancing down at his clipboard. “Well, maybe not. I guess that’s not very professional of me. And Oakley’s Crew is a professional company.”
I feel a little bad now. He’s just a nice guy, trying to be kind to me, and I’m an asshole, as usual. “Well, I haven’t hired you yet so you could be a temporary friend, I suppose.”
I grin at him, and he chuckles as we start walking toward the house again. “I’d be okay with that.”
We reach the front porch, and I look back at all the land on the property. “My grandmother died a few months ago, and I inherited this place.” I inherited everything. Including a huge savings account we never knew she had.
“Didn’t think you were from around here.”
I smile. “That obvious?”
He shrugs. “Kind of have the city-boy thing going on.”
I nod. “I’m from California. I’m used to noise and the beach. Not complete silence.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” He grins widely, and I can tell he really does like it here.
“Sure.” I try to be polite. I’m not so sure about this place.
“So why move here? Why not just sell the place?”
I frown, a cold feeling going through me, thinking about why the hell I didn’t do that very thing. I shrug. “It’s kind of complicated,” I say vaguely because no matter how nice this guy is, he doesn’t want to hear me blather on about this stuff.
“I’m your temporary friend, after all. You can tell me.”
I smile. I’m not used to such friendly people. We each take a seat on the front porch steps. “I came here a lot when I was a kid. Really young. Stayed with my grandmother for the summers.” He nods along as he listens. “I liked it here a lot, but when I started to get older, things kind of changed.”
“Changed how?” he asks carefully.
I shrug. “When I was thirteen, I kissed my first boy. And my parents walked in on it.” I try to gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t seem too shocked or concerned by that. “My parents were fine with it.”
He blows out a slow and steady breath, like maybe he was holding it. “That’s good.”
I realize he was nervous for me and smile, looking out at the gravel road. “It was, but my dad tried to warn me about how I might need to hide that from my grandmother. I was planning to go see her a week later.”
He’s frowning, and I decide I don’t like that look on his face. It doesn’t seem natural for him. “What happened?”
There’s something almost dark in his tone. I try to play it off because I want to believe I’m over it. “Not much. I called her to tell her I was gay because I was certain my dad was worrying about nothing.”
I notice he’s stiffened next to me. “He wasn’t?”
I shake my head. “Nah. She told me to stay the hell away from her home until I change my ways.”
“Jesus.” He sounds appalled, which okay, maybe I underestimated him and this town, or lumped them all in with my grandmother. I don’t know. He looks around at the property and then over his shoulder at the big house. “So why come back here? And why would she leave this place to you?”
I shrug, my heart hurting, just thinking about her. I was crushed. Completely. My parents had always been accepting of all people, so it was hard for me to realize my grandmother wasn’t like that at all. “I don’t know. It wasn’t like the movies where they leave a long, detailed letter telling you how they saw the error in their ways or a video of an apology. I got nothing. Just the lawyer telling us that she was of sound mind when she left everything to me.”
“So you hadn’t talked to her before she passed?”
“Not since the day she told me not to come back.” I try to keep my voice even. “My dad pretty much stopped talking to her then too. He chose me for sure. I tried to give him the house or some of the money, but he wouldn’t take it. Said I should do something good with it, even if it came from a hateful person.”
Walker puffs out air from his lungs and stretches his legs out. “I think I like your dad.”
I smile. “I do too. I feel a little guilty though.” I blush deeply when I realize this has gone really deep for a first meeting. And a professional one at that. Whoops.
“Why’s that?”
I shake my head and stand up, knowing I need to try to regain some semblance of a professional relationship with the man. “We should go inside and look at those hot tubs.”
He looks like he wants to say something, but thankfully, he just stands up and lets me lead him inside. Going to the kitchen where I seem to have the best service, I show him the three hot tub styles I’d been looking at.
We narrow it down, and he promises to bring some rock samples next time. “Thank you very much for coming here today,” I say as I walk him toward the front door.
“Not a problem.” He stands there with his clipboard, and I try really hard not to stare at his smile, but I’m failing. “I’ll run the numbers, show them to the boss, and then contact you.”
“Okay,” I say dumbly, even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to agree to any work he offers because I want to see him again.
“See you soon, Mr. Collins.”
“Dutton,” I say with a shy grin, my heart racing a little at his wide grin aimed in my direction. “See you soon, Walker, not the Texas Ranger.”
He chuckles and then waves before he heads out to his truck.
I watch him drive off and close the door behind him, back to the empty, quiet house.
A house I’m not sure I can ever make feel like home again.