Chapter 4 Muddy Boots on Marble
Building a Routine
By the start of the second week, Mason had become part of Liam’s mornings.
The realization hit him one Thursday while he stood in the kitchen waiting for the coffee maker to finish brewing.
Rain drummed softly against the windows.
A skillet warmed on the stove.
Toast popped from the toaster.
And Liam was glancing at the clock every few minutes without even realizing it.
Eight o’clock.
Mason would be arriving soon.
That thought carried an embarrassing amount of anticipation.
Liam shook his head and focused on cracking eggs into a bowl.
This wasn’t a big deal.
People looked forward to seeing friends all the time.
There was absolutely no reason to overanalyze it.
The problem was that Mason wasn’t exactly a friend.
Not officially.
He was still the plumber repairing the house.
The fact that Liam knew how he took his coffee now seemed irrelevant.
The fact that Mason preferred black coffee and somehow managed to survive on alarming amounts of caffeine was also irrelevant.
The fact that Liam had started buying extra coffee because of him definitely didn’t mean anything.
Not at all.
The sound of a truck pulling into the driveway interrupted his thoughts.
His stomach immediately performed a familiar little flip.
Liam frowned at himself.
Then he looked out the window anyway.
Mason climbed from the truck carrying a toolbox and several pieces of equipment. Rain misted across the driveway, dampening his dark jacket.
There was something reassuring about the sight.
Steady.
Reliable.
Predictable.
A strange warmth settled inside Liam’s chest.
A moment later, a knock sounded at the front door.
Liam opened it.
“Morning.”
Mason stepped inside.
“Morning.”
His gaze drifted toward the kitchen.
“Something smells good.”
Liam glanced over his shoulder.
“I made breakfast.”
The words escaped before he could consider how they sounded.
For a brief second, he worried it seemed strange.
Mason only raised an eyebrow.
“For yourself?”
“Mostly.”
The older man’s expression immediately turned suspicious.
“Mostly?”
Liam sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
A smile tugged at his lips.
“I made enough for two people.”
Mason laughed.
The deep sound filled the hallway.
“You know you don’t have to feed me every day.”
“Maybe I enjoy having someone appreciate my cooking.”
“Maybe you’re trying to bribe me into lowering the repair bill.”
Liam gasped.
“You discovered my plan.”
That earned another laugh.
A few minutes later they sat at the kitchen table sharing breakfast before starting work.
The scene should have felt unusual.
Instead, it felt surprisingly natural.
Comfortable.
Almost domestic.
That thought immediately sent Liam’s brain into dangerous territory.
He pushed it away before it could grow roots.
Domestic was definitely not a word he needed associated with Mason.
Especially considering how often he already thought about him.
The repairs continued after breakfast.
The routine had become familiar.
Mason worked.
Liam followed.
Questions were asked.
Answers were given.
Coffee appeared whenever necessary.
Hours passed faster than expected.
Today involved replacing sections of damaged piping beneath the kitchen floor.
The work required portions of the room to be torn apart.
It wasn’t glamorous.
Actually, it looked exhausting.
Mason spent much of the morning kneeling on the floor while handling tools Liam couldn’t even name.
Yet somehow he never complained.
Never rushed.
Never lost patience.
The quiet competence fascinated Liam.
His ex had always talked about confidence.
Constantly.
According to him, confidence meant being the loudest person in the room.
The most dominant.
The most noticeable.
Mason wasn’t like that at all.
He rarely raised his voice.
Rarely demanded attention.
Yet somehow everyone listened when he spoke.
The difference felt significant.
And attractive.
Very attractive.
Liam immediately buried that thought.
Unfortunately, it refused to stay buried.
Around midmorning, Mason called him over.
“Hold this.”
Liam accepted a flashlight.
“What am I doing?”
“Helping.”
The answer made him smile.
He spent the next twenty minutes assisting while Mason worked beneath the floor.
At one point, Mason explained an entire section of the plumbing system using a rough sketch drawn on a scrap piece of cardboard.
Liam listened carefully.
Not because he needed the information.
Because he genuinely enjoyed hearing Mason explain things.
The realization sneaked up on him.
He liked listening to Mason talk.
Not just about plumbing.
About anything.
That probably wasn’t a good sign.
By lunch, rain continued falling steadily outside.
Gray light filled the house.
The weather should have made everything feel gloomy.
Instead, Liam found himself unusually content.
They ate sandwiches at the kitchen table surrounded by construction materials and repair notes.
Again.
Somehow it had become normal.
“You’re smiling.”
Liam looked up.
Mason sat across from him holding a bottle of water.
“What?”
“You’ve been smiling at your sandwich for thirty seconds.”
Heat immediately rushed into Liam’s face.
“I was thinking.”
“Dangerous hobby.”
Liam rolled his eyes.
The teasing came more easily now.
So did the laughter.
The friendship—if that was what this had become—continued growing without either of them acknowledging it directly.
After lunch, Mason spent several hours working in the crawl space beneath the house.
Liam used the time to catch up on university assignments.
Or at least he tried.
His laptop remained open on the dining table.
Several articles waited to be read.
A paper deadline loomed.
Yet every so often, his attention drifted toward the sounds of work happening elsewhere in the house.
Tools.
Footsteps.
Mason’s voice when he occasionally called for something.
It was distracting.
Annoyingly distracting.
When did that happen?
When had the plumber become more interesting than his coursework?
The answer arrived immediately.
Somewhere around coffee.
And breakfast.
And late-night conversations.
And shared takeout.
Not helpful.
By the time Mason finished for the day, the rain had finally begun easing.
A pale patch of sunlight appeared briefly between the clouds.
The sight felt almost miraculous.
Mason packed away his equipment.
Liam walked him to the front door.
The routine again.
Every day seemed to end this way now.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
Mason adjusted his tool bag.
Then paused.
“You heading to campus today?”
Liam nodded.
“Evening study session.”
“Have fun.”
The obvious sarcasm made him laugh.
“I’ll try.”
Mason smiled briefly before stepping outside.
A few moments later, the truck disappeared down the street.
The silence that followed felt oddly noticeable.
Liam stared at the empty driveway for several seconds.
Then shook himself out of it.
He had classwork to finish.
And a study session.
And absolutely no reason to stand around thinking about Mason Reed.
Unfortunately, that proved easier in theory than practice.
Two hours later, Liam sat inside the university library trying—and failing—to focus.
Students filled nearby tables.
Laptop screens glowed beneath fluorescent lighting.
Someone’s headphones leaked faint music across the room.
Everything looked normal.
Everything felt normal.
Except Liam couldn’t stop thinking about a certain plumber.
A notebook suddenly slid across the table toward him.
Liam looked up.
Emma sat opposite him.
His best friend wore a knowing expression that immediately made him nervous.
“What?”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
“You tell me.”
Liam sighed.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.”
She leaned back in her chair.
“You’ve been staring into space for ten minutes.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
Liam hesitated.
A fatal mistake.
Emma immediately pointed at him.
“Oh my God.”
His stomach dropped.
“What?”
“There’s someone.”
“No.”
The answer came far too quickly.
Emma grinned.
“There’s definitely someone.”
Liam groaned.
“Please stop.”
“Who is he?”
Nobody knew him better than Emma.
Nobody was more dangerous when supplied with partial information.
Unfortunately, she was already investigating.
“Classmate?”
“No.”
“Professor?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Neighbor?”
Liam buried his face in his hands.
Emma gasped dramatically.
“Wait.”
Silence.
Then another gasp.
“No way.”
Liam already knew where this was going.
He hated that he couldn’t stop it.
“The plumber.”
The words landed with horrifying accuracy.
Emma’s eyes widened.
“The hot plumber.”
Liam immediately looked around the library.
“Keep your voice down.”
Her grin became enormous.
“It is the plumber.”
Liam groaned again.
The reaction answered everything.
Emma looked delighted.
“Holy crap.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Sure.”
“It isn’t.”
“Liam.”
She folded her arms.
“You literally just confirmed it.”
Heat flooded his face.
The worst part was that arguing felt pointless.
Because somewhere over the past two weeks, things had changed.
The attraction wasn’t hypothetical anymore.
It wasn’t curiosity.
It wasn’t admiration.
It was real.
And despite every reasonable argument against it, Liam couldn’t deny it anymore.
Not to Emma.
And definitely not to himself.
For the first time since his breakup, someone had captured his attention completely.
The fact that that someone was a broad-shouldered plumber with muddy boots and a quiet smile was probably a problem.
Unfortunately, it was also the truth.
The Weight of Old Words
The basement was quiet except for the steady hum of a dehumidifier and the occasional tap of rain against the small ground-level windows.
Mason adjusted the flashlight clipped to a support beam and crouched beside an exposed section of pipe.
The basement had become his primary workspace for the week.