Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Sheridan
This had been the longest week ever. Had it only been Monday that Jasper had pinned me against my desk and sucked on my nipples?
Yes. Yes, that had been Monday.
Now it was Friday, and I had blatantly avoided him.
He’d been engrossed in remodeling the Lawrence Welk room.
Some rainfall earlier this week had leaked through the roof.
Thankfully, I had hired some roofers. Jasper probably would’ve done that, too, but we couldn’t be two rooms down while he threw new shingles up.
I was at my desk, flipping the adorable little wooden beer bottle through my fingers. Had he thought about me when he made this?
I was hopeless. I’d been keeping the door shut in the mornings, mostly so I could brainstorm, but also so I could pretend like a closed door was a regular thing. My time in the office wrapped around Jasper would look suspicious otherwise.
Why did it matter?
Respect. I shouldn’t have to remind myself so often.
There was a knock.
I closed the notebook with a pros and cons list, similar to what Jasper had started. I was expanding it and making another list of things I could offer as a more boutique resort over a more commercial one. I set the carving by my computer monitor. “Yes?”
The door opened to a dusty Jasper. His dark shirt was covered with sheetrock dust, and his pants were full of paint splatters.
“Hey, boss.” He had that warmth in his voice, the one that made me question my decision to keep my distance.
The soft tone that reminded me I was too chicken to say yes.
Hiding wasn’t deciding, as my dad used to say.
“I’m gonna work through the evening, and I can get this room done by tomorrow so it can be rented out.”
I’d had to cancel on one couple. We’d offered to comp them another weekend. Customer service was good business, but it could also be expensive. I was losing two weekends on that room. “I can’t ask you to—”
“Then I won’t tell you.” He smirked. “I have nothing else to do. Unless you know of a girl who wants to go to Reservoir Barrel and tell me about how she likes me in my cowboy hat.”
I bit back a grin. “I think she has to go home and clean her house. Someone kept her out partying last weekend with his family.”
“As long as she knows who to call when she wants to talk about Cocksucker Cooper again.”
I grimaced, but a laugh escaped. The cringe from that night might never go away, but the way he joked about it made it easier to deal with. “She definitely does not want to talk about him. Ever.”
“All right, then. But my cowboy hat is in the pickup.”
I closed my eyes and groaned, a smile stretching my mouth. I didn’t regret telling him what I thought about him and his hat. “Noted.”
“It’s supposed to rain next week, so I’m going to work through the weekend. I’ll also tell Landon to stay out of the flower beds.”
“I think Constance traumatized that kid, but he’s amazing at flipping rooms.”
“That’s why I’m letting you have him.” Jasper leaned against the doorframe. Was he afraid to come all the way inside? What would happen if he did? Would I rise and go around the desk? “He sucks at differentiating weeds from flowers in full bloom.”
“Too bad he’s going to college in the fall. I wouldn’t have to do interviews next week.”
“He’s a good kid.” Silence fell between us for a few moments. He pushed off the doorframe. “Have a good weekend, Sheridan.” His voice was a purr.
“Don’t work too late.” I’d love to do other things too late.
He didn’t say anything as he disappeared. What would I do when he found a better job and moved on? Be grateful I had time to focus? That didn’t light me up inside as much.
I rolled my neck. The tension in my shoulders caused knots that I had no way to deal with.
I didn’t want to sit for one more hour at this desk, but I also didn’t want to go home.
If I stayed, I’d think about Jasper working well into the evening to improve this place that I love.
I knew little about drywall, but my painting was so awful my own dad had banned me from doing it.
Sighing, I pushed away from my desk. I went out the front door, waving to the evening desk clerk.
Maria was off for the day. I took the path that wound around the little lake house that was now mine.
It continued on to the road that went down to the docks and the beach, but it stopped at the pavement.
If I was able to get that property, guests could take a direct path, and I’d get the privacy lake cabins usually offered. Not that I was home much to enjoy it.
When I entered the cabin, I took a shallow breath. It’d been almost two months since Mom passed away, but the house still smelled like her. Her rose-scented perfume hung in the air. Her coats were still in the closet, and her rain boots were right next to the shoes I toed out of.
Walking through the house wasn’t much better. Her furniture. Her style. Her choices. This house was my mom’s, only she was no longer around. I had changed my whole life to move to Coal Haven, yet this house kept me frozen in time.
I had brought boxes with me when I moved, mostly clothing.
They were sitting beside the charcoal-gray couch Mom had bought a year before she passed.
She had loved this set, and I didn’t mind it, but none of this was mine.
I didn’t like to be surrounded by grays when it was winter half the year.
In the summer, I loved looking over the blue lake surrounded by rolling green hills and copses of dark-green trees.
Mom’s house said cozy winter instead of upbeat and summery.
Maybe I’d feel differently in several months when the land turned brown and the water was covered with ice and snow.
A new resort couldn’t go up overnight. I’d at least get another season here. It’d be enough time to map a more concrete future…or plan on shuttering the doors.
My feet were laden as I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. Did Jasper have dinner?
Not my problem.
Unless I wanted it to be?
No. He was working, and the restaurant was right there. I’d cross over that line we tried to set earlier—the line he’d put down for my peace of mind.
But it was my choice.
I sat and ate my ham sandwich and chips. Was this what being strong looked like? Was this what striving for respect in the workplace was like? Dad always said that to be a boss, we had to do the hard things in life. This wasn’t easy.
Perhaps because Jasper was more like a friend. He was a friend long before our lips touched. And already, I missed that friend. I wanted to hang out with him instead of sitting by myself in a house that didn’t feel like a home.
My gaze landed on the boxes. There were more of Mom’s in the garage. I rose. My plate went by the smaller plate from this morning by the sink. I pulled the six-pack of Reservoir Barrel beer I had gotten earlier this week out of the fridge.
I put my shoes back on and was out the door before I could think too hard, beer tucked under my arm. Without the oppression of the endless to-do list in the house, my steps were bouncier.
This time, I went through the side door. No other employees were on-site other than Jasper, the desk clerk, and the restaurant staff. The room Jasper worked in was closed and taped off, but there were dull thuds and the small bangs of equipment getting moved around filtering through the door.
I hesitated. Should I do this?
It was getting late, and he wouldn’t be able to work that much longer. The bumps and scrapes would carry too loudly in the quiet building.
I used my master key and pushed inside, knocking as it opened.
The window was cracked wide and a fan blew in the direction of it, keeping the worst of the paint fumes down.
Jasper turned, a rag hanging from his back pocket, paint roller in hand.
He was such a neat painter he hadn’t needed to cover anything due to splatter.
With the furniture moved out of the way, he made good time with the roller.
My belly flipped over at the way he wore his ball cap backward. A new thing to admit when I got drunk next.
I held up the six-pack. “I need to clean out some of Mom’s stuff, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Care for a beer?”
His brows lifted, and he put the roller down. “I’d love a beer.”
He took the one I handed him, and I shoved the rest in the little fridge every room had. A to-go container from the restaurant was in the garbage. Good, he’d eaten.
After he cracked the top, he took several pulls, his strong throat working up and down.
Mesmerizing. Who knew that did it for me?
Seemed that everything Jasper did was a kink of mine.
Backward hat and rag in the back pocket?
I was wet. Drink a beer? Let me spread ’em.
Stand in his gritty shirt and blue jeans, looking all blue-collar? I was already naked.
“Cleaning out your mom’s stuff?”
His question doused my desire. “Yeah.” I sat on the bed and cracked open my beer. Housekeeping would need to tackle the room with a fine-toothed comb before we could rent it again. “It’s her place. From top to bottom. I feel like I’m a visitor, and it’s just a reminder that she’s gone.”
“Why do you have to clean it out?”
“It’s not mine. Her style; her choices. But I don’t want it to not be hers either.
” The back of my throat burned raw. If I could, I’d get a place in town and figure out what the hell to do with Mom’s place.
Give myself more time to grieve, but I couldn’t dwell.
I had to figure out what to do. Did I sell it and invest the proceeds back into the resort, or would that be tossing cash into a pile of flames?
I wouldn’t be able to buy marshmallows when I was done.
He settled on the bed next to me, but we weren’t touching. Still, I soaked up comfort from him.
“Without thinking about what of your mom’s you’d clear out, what would you do to make it your home?”