Chapter 2
GABE
I’m in an absolutely shitty mood by the time I get to work the next day—or later that day, I guess—but of course like always, life has to go on.
I can’t even focus on the fact that my ex-wife is having a baby because my boss Oakley is ready to hand me a new assignment, which I’m grateful for. He bounces into the office, happy as usual, his smile bright as he pats me on the back with his beefy hand. “Just the man I needed to see.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I grumble as I make my way to the coffeepot because I’m going to need it. I pour some coffee into a mug and take a sip when Travis walks in and looks amused and a little apprehensive.
“You told him?” he asks his husband, and great, Travis looks worried. Which really, really can’t be good.
Oakley, of course, isn’t bothered at all. He’s grinning. “Not yet. I was about to.”
“What? Tell me what?” I ask, almost wanting to joke around about Travis knocking up Oakley too, but knowing without a doubt that would send a high alert to Travis—who’ll immediately pick up on my mood and know something is going on.
I don’t think I’d be able to leave out the too at the end of the joke. It’s too raw at the moment.
Shelly is knocked up. And the baby isn’t mine.
I’m not ready to talk about Shelly being pregnant yet, so no mention of babies.
“It’s not a huge deal . . .” Travis starts, pouring himself a mug full of coffee and taking a seat at the large table in the meeting room.
“But?” I ask, sitting down. I was ready for a new assignment—something to keep my mind off everything, but now I’m not really sure.
“Okay, so we have an unusual request from someone who called us this week. And the guy did not want us to come out and discuss it either.”
“What kind of request?” I ask, tilting my head to the side with curiosity. What can it be? I mean . . . we’re landscapers, for crying out loud. How unusual can it really get?
“Well . . .” Travis is struggling, which is odd for him. “So the guy wants a greenhouse.”
I squint at him, waiting for the unique part. We don’t do a ton of greenhouses. More often, it’s gardens, but we’ve done plenty of greenhouses over the years. “Are you fucking with me?” I have to ask, and Oakley cracks up at that.
Okay, so they are. But Travis isn’t really laughing, his expression is kind of sour. “Well, it’s not really the job that’s the problem. It’s the fact that he doesn’t want more than one person at his house. The one doing the job, and that’s it.”
My brow furrows at that just as Jackson walks in.
We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well since we both started working here around the same time, and I’d say he’s one of my best friends.
He caught that last part because he stops on his way to the coffee.
“Is this person some sort of serial killer or something?”
I mean . . . it’s not all that off base. It sounds creepy, if I’m being honest.
“The man is a father. That little girl needs her dad!” Jackson says, slapping me on the back, and his tone has taken on amusement, the fucker. “Think of the child!” Yeah, he’s being overdramatic now.
I shake my head, and Travis shares my sentiment.
“I don’t think he’s a serial killer.” Travis looks almost bored with Jackson’s antics, but I have no doubt he loves his job.
Oakley is for sure enjoying this, probably a little too much.
“I think he’s an older man who maybe doesn’t leave his house much and doesn’t want to deal with people. ”
“Ah, so, like Walker,” Archie says, and I didn’t even see when he arrived. But sure enough, he’s here and playfully shoving his best friend, Walker, as Walker flips him off and grumbles.
“Hey, I leave the house sometimes.”
“Even less now that you have your man,” Archie sings. “I’m shocked you ever make it to work with that gorgeous man in your bed.”
“Can you blame me?” Walker asks but then quickly shoots back, “Don’t say anything about Dutton or I’ll let Cane know you’re being a brat again.”
“Oh, yes, please.” Archie waggles his eyebrows and I scoff, trying to hide my laugh but failing hard.
Travis just grips the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Okay, so that’s enough of that.” His eyes meet mine. “If you don’t feel comfortable with this, I don’t blame you. We can turn the job down.”
I shake my head. It’s late February in Kansas. Work is fairly slow at the moment, and I need something to do. “I’ll be fine. But he wants only a one-man crew for a greenhouse? A small one, I’m guessing?”
Oakley shakes his head. “Didn’t seem like he was looking for a small one.”
“Whoa. What exactly did I walk into this morning?” I grin over at Luke as he walks through the door.
He’s the youngest on the crew, and his older sister and her wife walk in right behind him, so I assume he’s still staying in their guest room after losing his place when the landlord sold it right out from under him.
The kid hasn’t had it too easy lately, that’s for sure.
But he has a grin on his face the way he usually does, and I’m sure part of that is finding out he’s going to be an uncle soon.
When Missy announced at the holiday party this year that she was pregnant and that she and Luke’s sister, Sarah, were going to have a baby, we were all beyond thrilled.
Sarah and Missy are one hell of a couple. Unbreakable.
Unlike Shelly and me, apparently. And goddammit, I really need to get going on this job so I can think about something else.
“Greenhouses,” I answer Luke, who has his lips turned up in a smirk.
“Well, you know me. I say the bigger the better. I like to tackle even the biggest of challenges.”
“Gross,” Sarah says, shoving her little brother, which makes him stumble slightly.
“Jesus, fuck. We’re starting out just fantastic today,” Travis says, a slight smile on his face that he quickly quells. “I think it would be a good idea for you to just go there and feel it out.”
“That’s what he said!” Oakley cannot seem to help himself, and Archie, of course, gives him a fist bump, while Travis looks slightly murderous.
He hands me some paperwork, ignoring his husband. “Okay well, just let me know after you go talk to him. Figure out exactly what he wants and then you can write up a quote. If you want my help with it, let me know. If not, get started if he agrees.”
I nod. It’s all pretty typical of our normal jobs—except him not allowing anyone else to help out. That could get tricky, but I’m up for a challenge. And hell, at least it’ll keep me busy and maybe even keep my mind off Shelly.
“Thanks, boss,” I say, standing up and taking the paperwork and my coffee with me. Thankfully, the mug I chose is a travel one because I’m ready to get to it.
I head for the door, but Jackson catches up to me. “Hey, you sure you want to do this one?”
“What? Were you actually worried about me?” I ask, entertained by that thought. Jackson walks over with me to one of the many work trucks.
“Not really. I think you can handle yourself with some cranky old man.” I chuckle and open the driver’s side door. “But a greenhouse? One man? How are you going to frame that yourself?”
I really don’t know. It’s a big job, but I just shrug. “Maybe I’ll chat with him and see if I can get him to trust me enough to let your dumb ass come out and help me put up the framework.” I grin, and he socks me in the arm.
“My ass is not dumb. My head is. But not my ass.”
I laugh, but then worry slowly comes over me. He’s not dumb, not really, but when it comes to love, well, let’s just say he’s not exactly smart. “Rebecca?”
He shrugs. “Eh. It’s fine.”
He’s not being honest. But he’s also going into shutdown mode as he slaps me on the shoulder. “Well, you better get to it. Call me if he’ll let you have some help . . .”—he shrugs, playing indifferent—“or you know, if you get murder vibes.”
I laugh and brush him off. “Right. Maybe we can grab a drink after work?” I leave the question there, letting him know I’m here if he wants to talk about whatever the hell happened with Rebecca.
She’s nice. Really, she is. But I think that may be the problem. We all met her at the Christmas party, and while she’s a great girl, Jackson looked bored. Like really bored. And that’s just not my friend. He loves chaos, always has.
“Yeah, maybe,” he says, heading back into the office, probably to get his own assignment for the day and totally brushing me off.
I’m willing to bet we won’t be getting a drink tonight, but maybe tomorrow.
I hop into the truck and put in the address to my phone, getting the general area and setting up the navigation since it looks to be fairly deep into the country on the outskirts of town.
I’m not really all that concerned, if I’m being honest. And I’m not at all surprised I was the one chosen for this job.
Doesn’t seem like anyone else was either.
They kind of call me the elderly whisperer at Oakley’s Crew.
I usually get sent to help out the elderly clients. They trust me, for whatever reason.
Hell, I’m the only one Mrs. Jensen will let near her azalea bushes, for Christ’s sake.
I can handle this. When I finally reach the property, a smile crosses over my face when I take in the nice, large farmhouse-type home surrounded by a white fence.
I park just outside of it, and while the fence goes around most of the property, the front gate has been left open and welcoming.
There are trees around the property, but it’s not overgrown. With it being winter, the grass is still fairly brown and dead, but it’s obvious it was trimmed right before the freezing weather started, and the property looks well kept.
It’s a lot of land, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the man asks for help keeping up the property come spring. Could be a new client for Oakley’s Crew. Better make a good impression.
I hop out of the truck and grab the paperwork, situating my Oakley’s Crew polo under my heavy brown coat.
I left it unzipped so my work shirt will show off who I am and what I’m doing on his property.
Definitely learned most people, especially older people around here, like that sort of attention to detail. They want to know who’s on their lawn.
I walk up to the home, noting the nice, large front porch, and smile again. I’m not sure what it is about this house, but it sure seems homey. I wonder how long the man has lived here. Was he married? Did he raise a family here? A big happy family where he still gets to host Thanksgiving dinner?
Or is he alone out here in this big house where no one visits? Or maybe they want to visit but he won’t let them.
I take a deep breath, a sad feeling settling in my chest now. Great. I’ve managed to make this really fucking depressing in all of two seconds because of my wayward thoughts.
I shake it off and knock on the door, another thing I’ve realized—a lot of elderly clients do not like it when I ring the doorbell. And I need to start off on the right foot.
A moment later, the door is pulled open, but it’s not a little old man like I was expecting. No. Not at all.
The guy standing before me is probably a few years younger than me. His dark hair is wet, so I assume he just got out of the shower. And his green eyes focus on me, mistrust swimming inside of the deep emerald pools. “Who are you?” the young man asks me gruffly, his eyes narrowed.
“Uh . . .” I’m taken aback, completely off-kilter for reasons I can’t really understand. I was expecting an old man. Someone who doesn’t leave his house often, mostly because he can’t get around so well.
But this man standing before me, while on the slim side, is trim and fit, though tall and lanky. Almost up to my own height and strikingly beautiful.
That’s weird to think. I mean, not that I don’t know when another man is attractive, but this isn’t really that. There’s just no other way to describe him. With his square, cut jaw, dark hair, shimmering eyes, and pouty full lips . . .
Okay. I really, really need to get a grip.
It was just a shock. Not what I was expecting.
“Um, is your grandpa here?” That has to be it, right? The man has a grandson who’s here to help him out. Maybe the family doesn’t trust a stranger around him alone yet. Definitely seen that before.
The man cocks his head to the side, looking at me with deep suspicion. “No. Both of my grandpas are dead.”
Well, that’s depressing.
I look at the paperwork and check for the name of the client. I must have the wrong house. Shame too, because this house is a beauty, and with a little more landscaping closer to the house, it could be a real stunner. “Um, Dakota Gordon. Is he home? I’m Gabe from Oakley’s Crew Landscaping.”
“I’m Dakota,” the man says with a look that says he doesn’t trust me at all. He’s Dakota. He’s the client?
Well, that was unexpected.