Chapter 11
Cole
Snow had started falling, thin flakes that drifted past the window and caught in the porch light.
The forecast called for the first storm of the season, but for now it was only a light dusting.
I fed another log into the wood-burning stove and leaned back, listening to the pop of the fire while I finished my beer and enjoyed a low-key Saturday night, happy I hadn’t gone out to The Tap and been caught in the flurry.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I reached back and picked it up to see I had a text message:
Gavin: Hey sorry to bother you so late. I’m back at the inn and there’s no hot water. Any idea what I should do?
Over the last few days, while Gavin was away, my dad, Ryan, and I had torn everything out of the place, leaving only the framing, electrical wires, and plumbing.
Since most of the furniture wasn’t staying, we’d had people come in and take what they wanted, and then took the rest to the dump.
I hadn’t done anything to the plumbing, nor had the plumber been out, but I knew the water heater had been on borrowed time from the first day I’d seen it.
Since it was so old, it was likely I didn’t have the parts on hand to fix it, so the only thing I could do for the evening was text back:
I’m not sure without looking at it. I’ll come by first thing in the morning and check it out
A moment later, another message came through:
Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was something simple I could do or not
I stared at the screen, debating whether I should leave it at that. Waiting until morning, especially for a weekend, would have been the normal response. Still, the idea of him without hot water stuck in my head. Before I thought better of it, I was typing again:
You can come here if you need a shower
The dots blinked, disappeared, then blinked again before his reply came through:
Are you sure?
Yeah. Everyone looks out for each other around here
I sent him my address and then picked up a little even though my place wasn’t a mess, chalking the offer up to small-town courtesy.
Outside, the wind whistled under the eaves.
The road would start to glaze if the temperature kept dropping.
This first week of December had always been this way in Brookhaven: one storm stacking on another until spring thawed the banks along the roads.
Growing up here had meant learning how to shovel before school, drive slow on black ice, and split wood alongside my dad when the piles ran low.
Boston winters had been different. Same snow, same cold, but there it meant gridlocked traffic, subway delays, and job sites where I had to climb ladders with ice clinging to my boots.
I never missed working in winter weather.
Snow was fine when I was warm inside, but running conduit through half-built office towers while a foreman barked at me had ruined the charm years ago.
A car pulled into the driveway. I opened the door. The headlights held steady on the yard, falling snow moving through the light. Gavin climbed out with a backpack and came up the walk. “Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey.” He hesitated but stepped inside when I motioned for him to enter. “Thanks again. I tried letting the hot water run for at least ten minutes, but nothing.”
“Could be the pilot light went out. Or it could be something more.”
He sighed and unzipped his coat but kept it in his hand as he stepped farther inside. “I don’t like the more word.”
“Sorry. I can’t imagine inheriting a place you need to fix up. But I can promise, it’ll be worth it.”
“Hope so.” He gave me a small smile.
“The bathroom’s down the hall. Towels are on the shelf.” I pointed in that direction.
“Perfect. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Take your time.”
He disappeared down the hall, and a minute later, the shower kicked on.
I set another log in the stove and watched the flames catch, the crack of the wood breaking the quiet.
Grabbing the remote, I flipped on the TV, the channel already on the Bruins and Canucks game.
I left the volume low as the hockey commentators did their play by play and stretched out on the couch, not caring about the score.
Over the game, I could hear the water running, and before I realized it, my thoughts slid to Gavin standing under the spray.
I jerked myself back with a hard blink. Where the hell had that come from, and why was I thinking about him naked?
I’d never thought about a man like that before, not once, and now Gavin was in my head.
I told myself he was just another guy, a client at that, someone I was supposed to help with repairs.
Not someone I should be imagining in my shower.
I shifted on the couch, turning my focus back to the TV.
Players lined up for a faceoff, sticks hitting the ice as the puck dropped.
I tried to care, tried to let the game monopolize my attention, but all I caught myself doing was listening for the change in the pipes that meant the water had been shut off.
Just as the second intermission started, Gavin came back down the hall, hair damp and pushed back, fresh clothes on. “Thanks again,” he said, walking toward the front door. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“You don’t have to head back out.” I stood. “The roads are already slick, and I have a guest room if you want to crash here.”
What am I doing?
His eyes went to the door, then back to me. “Are you sure?”
I swallowed, telling myself this was just me being friendly and nothing more. It had nothing to do with thinking about him naked. “Yeah. You’d be better off staying here than trying to head back to the inn tonight.”
He hesitated only a second before nodding. “All right. Thanks.”
I got up and went to the fridge. “You want a beer? It’s no martini, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“Guess I can make do.”
After grabbing two bottles of Bud Light, I twisted off the caps and handed one over before taking my seat again.
“You know,” he said, sitting on the other end of the couch, “ordering a martini at that bar should’ve earned me some points for bravery.”
I smirked. “I’ll give you points.”
“For bravery?”
“For being obnoxious.”
He laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Obnoxious but memorable.”
“Fine, it was memorable.” I chuckled.
His foot nudged against the coffee table as he shifted, and his knee angled closer to me. I caught the movement, then glanced at him. He didn’t look away.
“You always drink beer?” he asked.
“Most nights. Easier than mixing anything.”
“No secret stash of gin and vermouth?”
“If I had vermouth, I wouldn’t admit it.”
He smiled, lifting his bottle. “Then I’ll stick to beer.”
“Good plan.”
We drank in silence for a moment, just watching the game. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him rub at his arm and then glance toward the blanket folded over the back of the couch.
“You want that?” I asked, nodding at it.
“Only if you’re not going to use it.”
“Go ahead. I’ve got more.”
“Thanks.” He pulled it down and draped it across his lap, careful with how he spread it.
“You’ll get spoiled if you stay here. Hot shower, cold beer, blanket by the fire, and no loud honking from city traffic.”
“Sounds like a pretty good deal. I could get used to it.”
“It does take some getting used to, but this is home for me.”
“How do you stay busy in a small town?”
“Small town or not, something always needs fixing. My dad and I take on plenty. But my trade’s electrical. In Boston, I worked on commercial jobs, mostly big buildings and office towers. Whole different pace than here.”
“An electrician? That’s impressive.”
“It’s just work.” I took another drink. “But writing’s impressive. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Sometimes I don’t either.” He sighed. “Lately it’s been harder than it used to be.”
“Why’s that?”
He turned the bottle in his hand, his eyes on the label. “I used to hear the characters talking in my head. Now nothing.”
I leaned back, watching him. “That can’t be good.”
“Nope.” He looked at me again and sighed. “Doesn’t help that everyone keeps asking when the next book’s coming out.”
“Deadlines. Expectations. That kind of pressure can screw with anybody’s head.”
He studied me for a moment, then smirked slightly. “You sound like you know that from experience.”
“I had tight schedules in Boston. You either deliver on time or get replaced.”
“And now?”
“Now since I work with my father it’s a different pace. A different kind of pressure.”
His smile turned more genuine. “Sounds better.”
“It is.”
He turned more to face me, tucking his leg under the other. “What made you move back here?”
I took a slow drink, buying myself a second. “Caught my wife with her boss.”
His brows lifted slightly, though he didn’t look away. “Oh shit.”
“Boston wasn’t for me anymore, and it made more sense to come back.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Don’t be. It’s done.”
“You know, I don’t remember the last time I sat like this, with a fire going and snow falling outside. Kind of feels like something out of a book.”
I arched a brow. “One of yours?”
“Yeah, I’ve written a scene like this before,” he said, grinning.
“Guess I’ll take the credit in the next one. Hot water, cold beer, and a little inspiration.”
“Inspiration, huh?” His eyes lingered on mine a beat longer than before. “Careful, Cole. You’re starting to sound like you want to end up in my story.”
I smirked and tipped my bottle toward him. “Only if you make me look good.”
He laughed, then set his empty bottle on the table and glanced toward the kitchen. “Think I could get another one of those?”
“Yeah.” I pushed up from the couch. “Come on.”
He followed, carrying his empty bottle. I opened the fridge, leaned in, and grabbed two more. When I turned, we almost collided.
“Sorry,” he murmured, stepping aside.
“You’re fine.” I handed him the bottle, my fingers brushing his as he took it.
The space between us closed before I realized it, his shoulder brushing mine and lingering there, a simple touch that shouldn’t have meant anything but sent a jolt through me I couldn’t explain.
I told myself I should step back, laugh it off, give him space. I didn’t. Heat climbed my neck as I met his eyes and my pulse jumped.
When he leaned in, my thoughts scattered. I’d never once pictured myself kissing a man, not until that very moment. But it had been a long time since I’d kissed anyone, and even longer since I’d gotten off with someone instead of by myself. Maybe that was why I didn’t turn away.
His mouth found mine, sure and warm and real, and shock held me still. My first thought should’ve been to pull back, to tell him he’d gotten it wrong, but instead I let myself sink into it, kissing him back before I could think twice.