Chapter 7
Leon
I’m a dead man.
I’m not sure if Auggie’s enthusiasm makes him more or less of a liability, but when I drop him back at Liv’s motel, he literally falls out of the damn truck.
There isn’t a cell in my body that’s not screaming this is a bad idea.
And I went through with it anyway.
In my defense, he has an impressive resume, and I’m just praying that shit is accurate and not an embellished, desperate grab for a job.
For now, he’s heading back to Portland to get things organized and will probably start with me next week. That gives me four days to mentally prepare for the mini hurricane that’s set to hit my life.
Four days to overthink and doubt and hope for the best.
But even with all that apprehension, if I had to go back, I’d do it again.
I’m not sure what to make of that.
Until this large job in Port Welling starts, LJ Construction is me and four other guys.
Two of them are full-time and two are part-time, and at the moment, the balance works.
I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to handle a hundred people all coming together to build a shopping center, but thankfully, that’s months away from happening.
Future Leon can deal.
Or have a mental breakdown.
We’re currently working across two sites. One of my part-timers is finishing off the fit-out for a shopfront on O’Connell Road while the other three are building two new classrooms for the high school.
I swing by the school first and check to make sure they’re on track and lend a hand.
The better part of my day is usually spent on-site before finalizing paperwork and doing all the general administration tasks that come with running a business.
If I could put off paying invoices and drawing up quotes, I would.
The actual physical work is what I like it best, so when Auggie said he couldn’t imagine a job where he had to work inside, I related.
It also means I tend to put off the paperwork side of things for longer than I can, and that sometimes gets me in trouble. Hence the long days.
I’m at the school until well past lunchtime then I head back into town to check on the shopfront. This job is for my best friend and his partner, so it needs to be perfect.
Other than the tiling in the change rooms, some caulking and paint, the gym is almost done.
It’ll be a relief to cross another project off my list, but the end is nowhere in sight. As soon as this is done, we have a bathroom to put in for Lori Taylor. Then a shed, then Peg’s cafe is extending, so of course Harvey’s Burger Bar needs a quote on renovations.
I push all that out of my mind and focus on the job at hand.
As soon as I walk in, it’s clear Oscar has been busy. All the tiling gear and leftover boxes are stacked outside the changerooms, and I can hear his voice coming from behind the partition separating the main room from the showers.
Circus and Rowan are both with him.
“Hey, man, come check this out,” Circus says, hooking his thumb back toward the tile job. Oscar was almost done with it yesterday, but when I stick my head inside, I’m relieved to see the remaining tiles have been laid and grouted.
They’ve gone with timber-look floor tiles and white on the walls. So far the room is bare, but in the next few days, we’ll be able to get in here to attach all the fixtures and install the cabinetry I’ve built.
“Happy with it?” I ask him.
“Yeah, it’s looking incredible. And Rowan’s already had a shitload of people buy memberships. The painter is coming this weekend, and the equipment will be here on Monday.” Circus’s dark eyebrows draw down as Rowan loops an arm around his waist and plants a kiss on his temple.
“Can you tell someone is stressed?”
I laugh at Rowan. “Isn’t this supposed to be your business?”
“Yes, except someone keeps forgetting that detail.”
Circus pinches Rowan’s cheek and leads us back across the gym to the office. “I’m trying to be supportive. You could both mock me a little less for it.”
“I could.” I shrug. “I just don’t wanna.”
Rowan snickers as he jumps up to sit on his desk. We never used to get along, but then he swept my best friend off his feet and proved he was a decent guy, so now we’re cool.
“Speaking of supportive,” Circus says. “How did the apprenticeship interview go yesterday?”
I wish I’d never said anything.
How do I begin to explain that the interview was a train wreck but I’d hired the guy anyway?
Easy. I don’t.
“Yeah, great. Seems like he’ll be a good fit.” I’m lying out of my ass. How I can simultaneously know this is a terrible idea yet have no desire to change my mind is beyond me.
“Wait, you hired him?”
“I did.” And I might as well tell them who he is because they’re going to find out next week anyway. “Funny story. Remember the guy who basically jumped on us outside during the festival?”
They exchange a look, and Circus speaks first. “The kid who wouldn’t shut up?”
“Not a kid,” I say automatically. “Auggie, yes. Turns out, he wasn’t as terrible for the job as I’d assumed.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-one.”
“He does not look twenty-one.”
“I think it’s great,” Rowan cuts in. “He was clearly excited.”
“And chatty.” Circus shoves me playfully. “He’s going to drive you crazy.”
I can’t help but silently agree with Circus. I like my privacy and space. I like my quiet. Auggie is one hundred percent going to disrupt all that.
And again, it’s not enough to change my mind.
There’s something about the guy that’s softened me to him.
I’m not about to overanalyze every detail either.
Last night I’d been completely prepared to hook up with him, but in the light of day, that burning attraction was gone.
Auggie’s cute, and cute isn’t for me. So I’ve written last night up to a blip in my radar, which is a good thing considering I’m his boss now.
Hooking up with employees only gets messy, and it’s something I’ve never considered doing in my life.
“I don’t care how much he talks, as long as he knows his stuff.” It’s the best answer I can give because at least it’s an honest one. Mostly.
“Well, I hope it works out. Seriously. You’ve needed the help forever. I’m impressed you’re finally admitting it to yourself.”
“Yes, well, my dumb ass had to catch up eventually.”
I talk Rowan through what’s left to do, and they both ask me about plans for the shopping center, which I quickly steer the conversation away from.
I’d been so proud to win that contract.
What was I thinking?
As soon as I leave, I grab dinner at Harvey’s, then head to my office to finalize a couple of quotes.
It’s late by the time I get home, and I consider heading out to make up for last night’s failed hookup, but I’m too exhausted.
After I got back here with Auggie last night, I’d tried to sleep on the couch and failed, so instead, I went through all those applications again.
I think I passed out around four and barely slept a few hours.
I’m so ready for bed, but when I get inside, and my phone lights up with a call from a number I try to avoid, I know I’m about to be even more exhausted by the time this conversation is done.
I consider sending it to voicemail, but one thing I’ve learned about Kieran Brashford is that if he has something to say, you’re going to hear it. I push past my need to sleep and force some cockiness into my tone.
“Kieran! I don’t think I’ve ever heard from you so late. Is this a booty call?”
“Cut the shit, Leon. I’ve had a long day and just got home to find out you’ve hired my son.”
“Oh, Auggie is your son? I didn’t make the connection.”
“Withdraw the offer.”
“Not happening.”
He chuckles without humor. “Trust me when I say this is the last thing you need to worry about. I’m looking out for you both.”
“Aw, decided to stop sabotaging me, have you?”
“Challenging a contract isn’t sabotage.”
“You’ve had me tied up in red tape since I got this Port Welling contract—”
“And a more experienced man would have known how to get out of it immediately.”
The worst part is that he’s right.
“Now stop trying to distract me from the point. August is a good kid, but—”
“Not a kid.”
“Pardon?”
“Auggie isn’t a kid.”
There’s a pause on the other end. His words come out on a cringe. “Please tell me you didn’t hire August so you can sleep with him?”
Asshole. I ball my fists but try to keep the anger out of my voice. He’s the kind of man who can sense weakness, and I won’t give it to him. “You do know gay men are able to keep it in their pants, right? Shocking fact, I know.”
“Your sudden concern for my son says otherwise. Why did you hire him?”
“Same reason as I hire anyone. They’re qualified, and I need them.”
“You think August is qualified …” The bastard sounds like he’s laughing at me now.
“Didn’t you ever wonder why I haven’t hired him myself?
I love my son, but I also know when to put business first. The kid is a walking hazard, and that isn’t an exaggeration.
He’s had three other positions this year alone—that I went out of my way to get him—who have had to end his employment. ”
Hmm … those weren’t on his resume. “What’s your point?”
“Portland is a small place. No one here will hire him—why do you think he had to go all the way up there to find a job? I don’t want you giving him false hope when he should be focused on his actual future.”
Being so much younger than a lot of people who run their businesses around here, I already struggle with earning credibility, but hearing the way Kieran is talking about Auggie sets off this spark in my gut that makes me want to prove him wrong.
My phone vibrates in my hand with a text, so I switch it to speaker to check.
Auggie:
Oh holy no, he’s talking to you right now isn’t he? I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry!
Me:
Why are you sorry? You’re not the one being an asshole.
Auggie:
I don’t know why he keeps doing this! I feel so unprofessional. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind …
I focus on the “keeps doing this” part of his message, and there I go feeling for Auggie again. If he can hear his dad, I can understand why he’s embarrassed.
Me:
Down, killer. It’s nothing I can’t handle. You better show up on Monday. Dying of embarrassment isn’t an acceptable sick day excuse.
And knowing Auggie can hear what’s being said … I’m angry.
“I can’t believe you can talk about your own son like that.” My friendly tone is long gone.
“Don’t give me that shit. I’m doing you a business courtesy and looking out for my kid at the same time. We both know how rough this business is. August is too soft. Can you blame me for wanting better for him?”
“Maybe that’s your problem. You don’t give a fuck what he wants—you still picture him as a kid. He told me why he wants this job, and I get it. The last thing I’m going to do is write someone off because they’re too much work.”
“Too much work …” He laughs dryly again. “I’m only going to offer this once. Withdraw your offer to him, and I’ll help you with the Port Welling contract. I’ll share my contacts and coach you through the build. For free.”
That’s … one hell of an offer. It’s like he’s looked into my head and worked out exactly what I need. And I badly need direction on this job, but my stubborn streak has hit, and knowing that he’s desperate enough to offer me help on the job he wanted has me digging in my heels.
I’ll do anything to hold on to Auggie, just to spite this asshole.
I cast my eyes skyward and silently plead Auggie is worth it.
“Yeah, that’ll be a no from me, man. I’ve got things organized, and once Auggie’s on board, it’ll free me up to get a bunch more done.
Your concern is noted though.” I couldn’t sound more bored if I tried.
All I wanted to do was go to bed, yet this conversation has me way too keyed up for that to happen.
“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And I swear to God, Leon, if you lay so much as a hand on my kid—”
“Again, not a kid.”
“I’ll make sure everyone knows what you do with your power over your employees.”
My back tenses. “Ah, so we’ve gone from a courteous chat to threats. It took a whole five minutes. I think you’re slacking.”
“It’s not a threat—I’m deadly serious. I will do whatever I need to in order to protect my son. Including from you.”
It’s a race to see who can hang up the fastest, and by the time my phone is clenched in my hand, I’m breathing hard.
I want to put my hand through a wall. So instead, I go down the hall and start tearing the Sheetrock out of the garage interior.
It’s early morning by the time I shower and head up to bed, but the moment my head hits my pillow, something feels off.
I have no idea how my bed usually smells, but this … isn’t it.
Whenever I hook up, I don’t bring people back here for obvious reasons, so I’m not used to this. To the smell of another man on my sheets.
It’s a floral, chemical smell—like maybe something Auggie had in his hair last night—mixed with deodorant and something masculine and intoxicating.
I don’t realize I’ve buried my face in the pillow until I’m breathing him in deep.
And yeah, nope.
I grab the pillow and fling it on the floor before grabbing one he didn’t rub himself all over.
This lack of sleep is messing with me.