Chapter Six
They’d hired out for the big stuff like the roof and the foundation issues, and at Knox’s insistence had agreed to leave the plumbing and electrical to licensed professionals—despite Lou’s belief that anyone could do anything with the right YouTube video. But the rest, they were doing themselves.
“I wonder how much work they’ve gotten done,” Jesse commented when Knox stopped the truck behind Sawyer’s SUV.
Knox shoved the truck into park and switched off the engine.
“I don’t care.” He didn’t want to talk paint colors, or the virtues of keeping the sash windows versus replacing them with new energy efficient, UV-rated ones.
He wasn’t here to catch up with friends, or provide his professional opinion on which tile would work best as a kitchen backsplash.
He was here to find out what the fuck Sawyer was doing kissing Chloe.
Jesse laid a hand on his arm before Knox could launch himself out of the truck. “You need to get a grip.”
“I’ll get a grip,” Knox muttered. Right around Sawyer’s neck, he’d get a grip.
“I’m not kidding,” Jesse said, and his tone caught Knox’s attention. “You go in there spitting fire, Lou will kick us out on our asses.”
“Shit.” Knox dragged a hand through his hair. His fingers caught on the band holding it back, and he tugged it free. “I need a minute.”
Jesse’s hand slipped from Knox’s arm to his hand, turning so they were palm to palm, fingers entwined. “Tell me what you need.”
Knox blew out a breath, forcing himself to relax. Inch by inch, muscle by muscle. “I honestly don’t fucking know.”
“Blow job?” Jesse suggested.
Knox’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Do you ever think about not making a joke?”
“Who’s joking? I’ll blow you right here.” Jesse let go of Knox’s hand to release his seatbelt, then turned on the seat. “Come on, whip it out.”
Knox laughed, some of the tension easing with it. “You’re such a slut.”
Jesse’s eyes twinkled. “Takes one to know one.”
Knox laughed again, then sighed. “What the hell was he doing kissing her, Jess?”
“I don’t know.” Picking up Knox’s hand again, Jesse gave it a squeeze. “Let’s go find out.”
Knox nodded, lifting Jesse’s hand to brush a kiss across the knuckles before letting go to reach for the door. “Okay.”
Jesse waited for Knox to circle the truck to his side before starting up the steps to the house. “I’ll do the talking.”
“What?” Knox frowned. “Why?”
“Because you’re still too pissed off.” Stomping the snow off his work boots, Jesse lifted his hand to the door, then paused. “Is that an alligator?”
“I think so,” Knox said, studying the brass door knocker. “Trust Lou.”
“I like it,” Jesse decided, then lifted the alligator’s tail to bang it against the door. “It’s heavy. Solid brass.”
Knox grunted, intrigued in spite of himself, then forced himself back to the matter at hand. “You don’t have to do the talking.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not taking a punch in the face for you tonight,” Jesse said, then smiled his most charming smile when the door opened. “Hello, Lou.”
The woman was a short and curvy sloe-eyed beauty.
She had a heart shaped face, a lush mouth, and skin the color of rich, smooth cream.
She had a smattering of freckles across her pert nose, a mass of curly red hair currently tied back in a black bandana, and was wearing a faded Tulane University sweatshirt and gray leggings spattered with paint.
The sweatshirt’s wide neck had slipped off one round, freckled shoulder, and when she planted her hands on her hips, it stretched tight across her very pregnant belly.
“Jesse Colson, why are you smiling at me like that?” she demanded in her slow, Southern drawl, her native Louisiana thick in every syllable.
“Like how?” Jesse asked, still smiling.
“Like a fuckboy,” she replied.
Jesse just grinned wider. “Because you’re hot, Lou.”
“What I am,” she drawled, shifting to rub a hand over her belly, “is round.”
“And it’s hot.” Jesse reached out a hand, let it hover over the baby bump. “Can I?”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “Thank you for askin’. Y’all would not believe the number of people who think that just because I’m gestating, they’re entitled to just walk up and put their hands on me.”
“A notion of which I’m sure you disabuse them,” Knox said, and she turned those dark eyes on him.
“I do indeed.” Her smile turned just a little wicked. “And how are you tonight, sugar? You look a little…agitated.”
Recognizing the poke, Knox just nodded. “That I am, Lou. That I am.”
Humor danced in her eyes, flirted at the corners of that lush mouth. “Well, why don’t y’all come on in then, and we’ll talk about it.” She looked at Jesse, who had crouched down and had both hands and one cheek pressed to her belly. “Jesse. Get up, now, before junior here kicks you in the ear.”
“Huh? Oh.” He stood, joy and wonder in his expression. “That was so cool. I could feel it moving!”
“Yeah, me too,” Lou said with considerably less wonder. With a wave, she beckoned them into the house. “Y’all wipe your feet. Just because the floors are old doesn’t mean I want you tracking in mud and snow.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison and followed her inside.
The living room was, like the rest of the house, a work in progress.
The walls were the original plaster, and showed patches of repair here and there.
The fireplace brick had been repointed, and Knox could find no flaw in the work.
The floors were indeed old, the original oak scuffed and scarred.
They would be refinished, but that was the last project on a list of many.
They dried their feet on the thick mat inside the front door, then followed Lou through the open doorway to what had originally been the dining room.
It was to be a study of sorts, and the cherry wood built-ins meant to display the family’s finest china would instead house books.
The French doors that normally lived there had been removed, lest they get damaged, and were safely ensconced in the attic until the first floor reno was complete.
The walls here had been sanded and prepped for paint, and there was a trio of color swatches on the interior wall.
Lou stopped to point at them. “Which one?”
Knox looked. There was a deep orange, a soft, mossy green, and a grayish blue that made him think of stormy skies and turbulent seas.
“I think the green,” Jesse began.
“Not you,” Lou interrupted and pointed at Knox. “Which one?”
Knowing she was needling him on purpose didn’t keep his back from going up. “It’s your room, Lou.”
“What, you can’t give a friend a professional opinion?” she asked, putting the faintest emphasis on friend.
“Fine,” he bit out. “Blue.”
“Why?”
“Because the green is too soft, too quiet, the orange too energizing. Save it for your office, maybe a half bath for fun. The blue is soothing without being too soft, relaxing without being boring.”
She eyed the swatches on the wall, then him. “Okay,” she said and pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Rolling his eyes merrily behind her back, Jesse followed.
Taking a deep breath, Knox trailed after them.
The kitchen was the most complete room in the house, with gleaming quartz countertops and a shiny new tile backsplash.
The floors in here had been done, a test to see how the refinishing would go, and they gleamed golden in the light from the trio of pendants hanging over the island.
The cabinets were original, refinished and outfitted with new hardware, and Knox was pleased to see they’d kept the leaded glass fronts.
Lou had protested that glass cabinets would mean she had to keep their contents tidy, but Sawyer had argued since the kitchen was mostly his domain, he should get final say.
It looked like he’d won that battle.
The stove was an antique, something that might have been in the house when it was first built.
When Sawyer had found it at an antique store in Saugatuck, its enamel had been cracked and pitted, one of its claw feet missing.
It had been beautifully refurbished, and an enamel pot in flame orange sat on one of the burners, steaming gently.
Sawyer, barefoot in the same jeans and sweater he’d worn at the diner, stirred its contents and sipped a glass of red wine.
“Boys,” he greeted them, then aimed a look at his wife. “He said blue, didn’t he?”
“Shut up.” She sniffed at the pot. “When is this going to be done?”
“Another half hour.”
She jutted her bottom lip out in a pout. “But your daughter is hungry now.”
“Aw.” Sawyer dipped his head and kissed her. “Feed her some fruit.”
“She’s sick of fruit, and so am I,” she muttered. “I want sushi. And soft cheese. And a ham sandwich I don’t have to microwave.”
“You’ll have to settle for chili tonight. In half an hour. You’re welcome to join us,” Sawyer said to Knox and Jesse. “But no yelling. It’s bad for the baby.”
Lou rolled her eyes. “It is not. Besides, if y’all fight it’ll take my mind off the fact that I can’t have beer with my chili.”
“We’re not going to fight,” Jesse began.
“Speak for yourself,” Knox said, his temper spiking again. Seeing Sawyer kiss his wife reminded him that the son of a bitch had kissed Chloe. “Why the hell were you kissing Chloe?”
Lou turned wide eyes on Sawyer. “Who’s Chloe?”
“My date tonight.”
“Oooh, this should be good.” Lou rubbed her hands together with undisguised glee. “Do I have time to make popcorn?”
“Tallulah Jane, behave,” Sawyer admonished.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “When has that ever worked?”
“Never,” he admitted.
“So what makes you think it’s going to work now?”
“I’m waiting for a fucking answer,” Knox growled.
“You’ll watch your tone in my house,” Lou warned, jabbing a finger at Knox.
“Babe,” Jesse softly. “Ease back.”
“You too,” Sawyer told Lou.
Lou folded her arms and somehow managed to jam them between her impressive breasts and her burgeoning belly. “I will when he does.”