Chapter 7
Knox
Universe, what have I done to deserve this?
If I’d thought Taylor was alluring that night, singing onstage, it’s got nothing on him freshly out of bed, sober, and ready to play.
His barely-there shorts hug his thighs like a compression garment, and his tank top has gaping arm-holes, making his smooth, toned chest partly visible as well.
I scratch my nose just to move and burn off some of the nervous energy I’ve acquired since coming face-to-face with him again. My mind is assaulted with the memory of his tongue in my mouth and his sweaty body in my arms.
It’s not like I’ve actually made any progress toward forgetting that night, but it definitely won’t be any easier now.
Not when I have to see him every day at work.
The owners—who I now assume are his parents—told me they’d be out of town during the week of renovations, and that their son would be here in their absence… but what are the fucking odds?
“Um, right,” I say stupidly, unsure how to respond to Taylor’s bold statement about…coming?
Jesus.
I think part of me knew he felt whatever the fuck passed between us that night, which is why I got the hell out of that bar as soon as I could. Unfortunately, he seems unwilling to let it go, even though it’s nothing more than a lonely old man’s reaction to misplaced interest.
My fragile ego can’t handle being the entertainment to such a confident, vivacious young man, and I need to make that much clearer today than I did during our last encounter.
Taylor just stands there smirking as I shift my weight uncomfortably.
“Right, well, we’re gonna get to work,” I announce, throwing a thumb over my shoulder as I back off the porch. “Nice to, um, meet you.” I drop my gaze and head for my truck to grab everything I need to start the demolition of the back porch.
“I think someone has a crush.” Javi chuckles behind me as we make our way to the back of the large white-stone house. It’s a beautiful place for a big family with an even bigger bank account.
“The fuck are you talking about?” I snap harshly.
I didn’t get much sleep last night. My traitorous mind insisted on replaying the brief moment I had Taylor pressed against me on a loop that was dangerously close to driving me insane…again.
I’m not homophobic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, two of my best friends are with guys. But that’s different than being attracted to guys myself.
Which I’m not.
And the last fucking thing I need right now is a goddamn identity crisis on top of my near-clinical depression and abandonment issues.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I silently curse Karen once again before cursing myself for allowing the pain to still have such a hold over me.
“Sorry, Javi,” I say with a sigh.
Javi just laughs and holds up his hands. “Him, boss. I meant him. That guy started giving you the googly eyes the second he opened the door.”
Phil doesn’t talk much, but he chooses now to join in the fun. “I have to agree, boss. He was definitely looking at you like you’re a snack.”
I turn slowly, my brow arched as I pin Phil with a stare. “A snack? What are we, middle school girls?” The guys give me shit all the time. This isn’t anything new, but I’m not in the mood today. “Never mind. Just get back to work.”
I love my job. There are so many different aspects to building and construction that I never get bored.
With twenty-four years of contract work under my belt, I have licenses for plumbing, masonry, and electrical work on top of my general contractor’s license.
I love getting lost in the process, and before you know it, you’ve created something beautiful.
But it’s hard to find my groove when I’m distracted, hot, and constantly aware of Taylor’s proximity, even if I can’t see him. Despite not wanting something else to happen between us, something already has, and my body seems hellbent on reminding me of that.
It doesn’t take long before the sun is hanging high in the sky, beating down on the guys and me relentlessly. We stripped the roof first, so we’ve lost all our shade.
Hours later, we have the original, pathetic excuse for a porch almost torn down to the bones.
We’re basically starting from scratch because this shitty two-by-four deck had no business being attached to this beautiful home in the first place.
Up next is tearing up the deck flooring because we’re replacing it with stone.
“Before we start on the floor, I need a break,” I tell Phil and Javi. The high today is ninety-four, and we’ve barely stopped for a sip of water in the last several hours of hard physical labor.
“Sounds good to us,” Javi says, moving to stand in the shade provided by the house.
When I remove the lid from my water bottle, I barely get a mouthful before I realize it’s hot and about as refreshing as a mouthful of ash.
Shit.
Unable to put it off, I head inside the Landry’s house for a refill and a quick bathroom break.
After knocking once out of politeness—and as a warning of my presence—I make a beeline for the kitchen sink, keeping my eyes on the tile floor in front of me.
The house is quiet with no sounds of Taylor moving around.
He’s so light, I probably wouldn’t hear him even if he were doing cartwheels somewhere.
Once my bottle is full, I turn toward the restroom, but quickly jump back, my empty hand gripping the counter behind me.
“Fucking hell, you scared me.” My tone is angrier than necessary because everything has me on edge today.
Taylor just shrugs in a graceful, fluid motion.
Forget being light on his feet, the guy’s a fucking ghost.
“I, uh, just need to use the restroom and then I’ll get back to work,” I say awkwardly, like I’m not allowed to have five minutes to myself.
Taylor seems to revel in my discomfort and takes a small step forward.
“Don’t mind me,” he says, leaning into my space.
I think he’s about to touch me until he reaches past me for a cell phone I hadn’t noticed lying on the counter near the sink.
I choose to ignore the disappointment welling in my chest at the lack of contact.
“You seem tense. Is everything okay?” Taylor asks innocently, arching perfect, manicured brows at me.
God, he’s really pretty.
Not sure pretty is a word I’ve ever used to describe another guy, but it works here.
“Um, yeah. Everything’s fine,” I lie, sounding like I’m in a daze. “We’ll be on track as long as the weather holds out.” I’m aware more words leave my mouth; I’m just not entirely sure what they are. Thankfully, they must make sense because Taylor nods with a smile.
“Sounds good, just let me know if you need anything. I’m always happy to help.”
There’s no wink this time, but I still hear the offer in his words, and I’m positive the help he’s offering has nothing to do with construction.
The fact that I didn’t immediately shut Taylor down is a problem.
Not only do I have zero fucking clue what I’m doing flirting with another man, his age is absolutely a problem.
And if I wasn’t already putting the cart about twelve miles in front of the homosexual horse, he’s also technically a client.
Three strikes, and you’re out.
“I think we’ve got it, thanks,” I say, finally putting an end to this.
I manage to make it two-and-a-half more hours, but eventually, I bag out early. I just can’t concentrate, and I’m creepily trying to peer in the windows every fifteen seconds. I need a reset and to get my goddamn mind right.
“Phil, Javi, I need to go make a couple calls and take care of a few quotes for other jobs. You guys okay to finish this up? Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“No problem,” they reply in unison, not even bothering to look up from their tasks.
They’re the best employees a guy could ask for.
Reliable, dependable, respectful, and punctual.
I overpay them, but I’m a firm believer in getting what you pay for.
It feels more like we’re partners instead of boss and employees, which is how I like it.
And they don’t balk when I add more to our already maxed-out workload.
My favorites of all my employees by far; I often put myself on their jobs because they’ve been with me the longest, and I have the best relationship with them, even if I’ve strained that relationship by pulling back since my divorce.
In the driveway, I unfasten my toolbelt and throw it on the backseat of my truck before lifting the bottom of my shirt to wipe my face.
“Heading out so soon?” a familiar voice asks, startling me for the second time today.
“Jesus, kid. How do you always manage to sneak up on me?”
His eyes darken, and it doesn’t take me long to realize my mistake.
“First of all, I’m twenty-four…not a kid,” he corrects me. “And second, don’t blame me for your lack of awareness. I’m just over here living my life,” he waves his stack of mail in my face, “while you seem to have your head in the clouds.”
Well, fuck. He has a point.
“You’re right,” I begrudgingly acknowledge with a nod. “I apologize.”
His eyes travel the length of my body, leaving unmistakable heat in their wake. “I’d be willing to forgive you for another look at those abs, though,” Taylor says playfully with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“Awfully forward, aren’t you?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the side of my truck. I’m willing to admit I’m more intrigued rather than put-off by his boldness…but that’s all I’m willing to admit.
With another nonchalant shrug, Taylor answers, “I just know what I like and have never been afraid to go after it. Worst you can do is tell me no, and then it’s just as big a loss for you as it is for me.
Besides, you’ve seen mine…and we’ve already shared our first kiss.
So, a little peek really couldn’t hurt anything, could it? ”
What’s it like to go through life with that kind of confidence, I wonder?
And truth be told, Taylor’s interest in me, no matter how superficial, is quickly becoming intoxicating.
I’ve felt undesirable for so long that the fact I’ve caught Taylor’s attention twice might be just the fucked-up ego boost I need.
That pathetic, paper-thin excuse is the only reason I can think of for why I indulge him by grabbing the hem of my shirt.
Lifting it slowly, I watch with rapt attention as his eyes flare and his tongue darts out to wet that full bottom lip, immediately transporting me back to the night I trapped it between my own.
“Goddamn,” he says breathlessly. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re sexy as fuck?”
Not in a long-ass time, I think to myself.
The rasp of desire in his voice causes the reality of what I’m doing to slam into me, and I drop my shirt.
“Christ, I gotta go,” I mumble, ripping my driver’s side door open and hauling myself inside before tearing down the street like a maniac.