14 - Lauren
Lauren
“And here I thought you disappeared into the ether,” Clara said in greeting as I opened the front door. I shook my head, giving her a quick hug.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been a bit distracted lately,” I said honestly.
She gave me a sympathetic frown. “Of course. With all the permits and protesting bullshit going on, of course you’ve been busy. How are you holding up?”
I shrugged. “I’m doing okay, I guess. As well as I can be.”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “I can tell that you’re panicking.”
“I don’t know how else to handle this,” I confessed. “Please, please tell me you have some good news for me.”
“You’re in luck,” she answered. “You have a guardian angel on your side. And that guardian angel is me, if it wasn’t clear enough.
I was able to dig up the MLS history to prove that this building was on the open market for years before you put in your offer.
I also turned over the document trail to swat down claims that you weren’t being transparent about your intentions from day one. ”
She pulled up her nose. “Anyone else who has an issue is very clearly operating with an agenda. But everything was above board, so they’ll find nothing. You can relax.”
I couldn’t believe that she’d gone through that much effort for me. I knew that her own job would be threatened if there were anything behind these ridiculous rumors and accusations, but still, the fact that she’d done more than simply give a statement or turn in the paperwork had me choking up.
“Thanks,” I said, swallowing hard. “You have no idea how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing.”
“Hey, I take pride in my work. And I also don’t like seeing innocent people get targeted for something they didn’t do,” she said.
“Well, you’ve definitely earned your Guardian Angel title,” I said, jerking my head in the direction of my kitchen. “I owe you for this. Cup of coffee?”
“Sure,” she said with a smile, following me as we made our way further into the firehouse.
“I’ll be owing you a bigger favor than the coffee, by the way. I just want to make that clear,” I said.
“If you feel that strongly about it, just add me to the guest list for your housewarming party,” she said with a wink.
I laughed. “Trust me, you were already on the very, very minuscule list.”
She made a sound of contentment as we walked on. The place was currently in a perpetual state of disordered chaos, the renovation timeline now firmly put on hold until the bureaucratic mess got sorted out. Clara looked around not in judgment, but interest.
“I mean, those Cornerstone workers still managed to get a lot done in just a few months,” she said, sounding impressed. “The second you get clearance, you’ll probably have this place fixed up and livable before the end of the year.”
“Fingers crossed,” I said.
“You know, Lauren, I realize that you might not have anyone else to depend on really, being new to the city and all, and I just want you to know that—” her words were immediately cut off as we walked into the kitchen.
It took me a second to realize what had her so frazzled until it hit me that I’d gotten so used to the three men working on my house 24/7, that the sight of them in their element had lost some of its original shock value.
They were each wrapped up in a minor task that, while ultimately trivial, still required a level of focus. Callum was meticulously removing layers of old paint from rows of detached brass doorknobs, his strong hands and long fingers working with intent.
Rafe was on a rolling scaffold, cleaning and greasing the heavy iron tracks of the sliding door that was set up to be a room divider between my kitchen and living area. His muscles tensed with every stretch, deliciously visible through his paint-stained T-shirt.
And on the far end of the same door track was Brock, trying to realign one of the heavy wooden doors on said track all by himself, though even I could tell it was a two-man job. But seeing him handle the heavy slab of wood with ease was enough to dissuade my concerns easily enough.
Clara stared at them, her mouth shamelessly hanging open. I grinned and reached a hand out under her chin to gently close it for her.
I got it though. Shock value or not, these three men were drop–dead gorgeous to say the very least, and watching them get their hands dirty?
Now that was the type of sight that could kill a weak-hearted grandma in minutes.
Clara turned to look at me with huge eyes. Oh my god, she mouthed silently.
“Yeah,” is all I said.
“Well,” She adjusted the lapels of her jacket. “I suppose I was mistaken. You seem to have quite…adequate company.”
My brain itched with the temptation to tell her the truth about that company. But I didn’t know her well enough, and even if I did, would I seriously tell anyone that I was insanely attracted to the renovation crew I’d hired, and that I’d fucked them two for three already?
Probably not.
In the corner of my eye, I could see Brock’s head turn towards me and Clara, evidently distracted by our sudden walk-in.
“They do their jobs well,” I said simply. He shifted, turning his attention back to the door and hoisting it up. “How do you take your coffee?”
But Clara didn’t even get the chance to tell me. I saw Rafe’s body react even before I heard the pop of the door jumping the track. It was so heavy that it immediately began to tilt, catching Brock at an awkward point of balance. He was going to get crushed between the door and the brick wall.
Or at least he would’ve, if not for Rafe. He vaulted off the scaffold in what felt like a fraction of a second and used his shoulder to brace against the door’s weight, shoving it back towards the track.
“Move!” he yelled at Brock, who very quickly slipped out of the danger zone. Once they were both clear, Rafe immediately grabbed a crowbar and helped Brock lever the door back into place.
“Lauren. You’re cutting off circulation to my arm,” Clara whispered, and I let go.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered back, my heart still thundering in my chest,
My eyes now snapped to Callum, who’d left his own task and was halfway to assist Brock when Rafe jumped in. He looked as puzzled at the exchange as I was, wriggling his eyebrows at me as we watched the two men.
I fully expected Rafe to deliver some smug line insulting Brock’s slip-up, even if it’d been partly my and Clara’s fault. But he didn’t. I watched in absolute fascination as the two of them worked together to stabilize the door.
“That was my fault,” Brock said gruffly.
I liked how he could admit he messed up and that he evidently wasn’t one of those assholes who could never admit when they did anything wrong.
Especially considering how little love he actually had for Rafe in the first place.
“I should’ve waited until you or Callum could help to keep the balance. ”
“The issue wasn’t your strength, it was the angle,” Rafe said, his eyes going up to the track.
“Just keep an eye on the lead roller next time. They tend to walk on these old heavy duty tracks, especially if the door isn’t perfectly plumb.
If you shim the bottom guide first, you can take the pressure off the top hangers. ”
Brock looked surprised at both Rafe’s technical advice and the relatively chill attitude he was delivering it with. They made some more small talk about the mechanics before Rafe went back to his previous task, casting me the most discrete look before getting back on the scaffold.
I wasn’t sure if what I just witnessed was done for my benefit. Maybe I was overthinking by believing that Rafe was that obsessed with trying to one-up me on the chess board that he would really do something to help Brock of all people without being a total prick.
Or was this just some part of himself? A part that valued the integrity of the build so much that it didn’t matter who he had to assist, as long as the work was done. Did he really have that work ethic?
And Brock for his part didn’t look nearly as pissed with Rafe as I’d gotten used to him being. It was so strange to see the two of them interacting in a decidedly non-hostile way.
“Two sugars and milk,” I suddenly announced, kickstarting my brain as I recalled Clara’s coffee order. “Coming right up.”
As I prepared her coffee, I introduced her to each of the three men and they greeted her with polite professionalism. We made conversation while Clara finished her coffee before I walked her out.
“Hotness aside, they seem like they know what they’re doing,” Clara mused.
“They do,” I agreed, dragging a hand over my face.
“What’s wrong? Having three beautiful, muscular men prettying up your kitchen isn’t enough to put you in a better mood?” she joked. “I mean, if my charm didn’t even work then I at least thought the Trifecta of Hotness would.”
I snorted. “I’m just thinking about how I’m going to bounce back once this project is over. I’m not landing any gigs just yet with the studio still being unfinished. I was hoping at least that would be done by now.”
I paused, deliberating. “I’m burning through my money fast.”
Instead of giving me some half-assed apology or fake sympathy, Clara grabbed my shoulders with surprising urgency.
“Okay, you need to take a break from all this stress. No premature frown lines, alright?” she said, wagging a finger at me. “Look, I’m having a birthday party in two weeks. Why don’t you come? I think if anyone needs a break and a chance to kick back, it’s you.”
The old Lauren would probably have refused immediately. But this was the same woman who’d had my back since the very beginning of this move. And so far she hadn’t steered me wrong at all. So I did the radical thing and agreed. She cheered before giving me the details.
Just before she walked out the door, she left a hand on the jamb and gave me a look over her shoulder. “Oh and, Lauren? Feel free to bring the eye candy along.”
She gave me another cheeky wink before finally leaving.