19. Blaze
Blaze
I’m out of the house the next morning before Brooke’s up, getting Misty into the truck and heading to the boathouse while the sun’s barely cracked the tree line.
I’m not avoiding my sister exactly. But I don’t know how to process the changes she’s bringing while the memory of coming on Shawn Camden’s abs last night is so fresh I can still hear him telling me to do it in his sex-raspy voice.
Usually the most exciting thing that happens around here is a bald eagle sighting or Nolan making my favorite muffins, not hot former baseball players coming in their jeans two seconds after rubbing against me.
Not that I minded. I wasn’t lying when I said it was fucking hot that he shot so fast. I’m still absorbing the idea that he wants me like that. I don’t doubt it, not now. But I’m in far deeper than I thought.
Before, it was just me and my little crush. Something I could forget about, or try to, after he left the retreat the way all the guests eventually leave. But now I know what he tastes like and sounds like and looks like when he’s feeling good because of me. And that’s an honor I don’t take lightly.
What, exactly, we’re going to do about all of this is as muddy as the shallows of the lake after a hard rain.
I park in front of the boathouse, thankful I have work to keep me distracted.
Still, Shawn’s cabin is only a few hundred feet away.
I could go there and knock on his door in under a minute.
He’s probably asleep, but if I hammered hard enough, he’d get up and shuffle out, all sleepy and rumpled, and I could take him back to bed and pick up where we left off last night.
Dammit. I’m not going to do that.
Instead, I adjust my semi in my jeans and open up the boathouse to prepare three kayaks for me and the morning’s guests.
“That rocked,” Erica, the smaller of the two women, says hours later when we’re dragging the kayaks up the shore.
Misty jumps out of ours, ungainly in her doggy life vest, and immediately pees on some weeds growing along the shoreline.
It’s too cold for her to swim, so I made her stay in the kayak the whole time, but she didn’t mind.
Misty loves kayaking even more than I do.
“Incredibly fun,” Sam, her wife, says. “We have to do this again before we leave.”
“Just let me know when you want to go out,” I say, glad they had such a good time. We lucked out with the weather, which was cool and cloudy, but some sun peeked out by the end.
“Can we go just the two of us?” Erica asks. “Now we know the area?”
“Sure,” I say, confident in their ability to kayak safely alone after spending the morning with them. “Give me a heads-up and I’ll get the kayaks out for you again.”
They head toward their cabin, number six, and I lift the smallest of the kayaks over my shoulder and carry it to the boathouse. The phone’s ringing when I get there, so I set the kayak down and pick up the phone. Luis is on the other end of the line.
“I found another guy for the crew, so we’re moving ahead with framing today. You check on the windows?”
“They should be delivered day after tomorrow.” Finishing the house now seems like less of a priority since my sister doesn’t even want to live in it. I sigh. That’s not Luis’s problem. “I’ll stop by later.”
“Yep.” And he’s off the line with typical Mainer brevity.
I put the kayaks away on autopilot, check out a badminton set to the guests in cabin one, then set up the net on the lawn for them.
I drive to my house and take a speedy shower, too rushed to indulge in reliving last night’s activities.
I leave Misty snoozing in her bed while I get back in the truck to drive to the construction site.
The sun’s stayed out, shining down on the crew.
There’s Luis, Leo, Cord, Raphael. And there’s a fifth worker, the one Luis mentioned adding today.
He’s wearing a hard hat and a tool belt around his waist, a green Henley and work gloves.
I do an actual double take when I recognize Shawn, pounding nails into a two-by-four like he was born to do it.
I never thought construction work was particularly sexy, but I never saw Shawn Camden doing it, a smudge of dirt on one cheek, his mouth set in concentration as he pounds those nails in good. What the hell is he doing here?
“Blaze!” Luis is calling my name, and at the sound Shawn’s head jerks around looking for me.
I wave at both of them, my smile feeling fake. As Luis strides toward me, I frantically try to make sure the instant erection I got by seeing Shawn working with wood, nails, and a hammer isn’t noticeable.
“Boss,” he says, “My man here says you’re buddies. You got any more friends like this?” he asks, jerking his thumb toward Shawn. “Guy’s a good worker.”
I attempt a laugh, which unfortunately sounds similar to a frog’s croak. “Glad to hear it.” I don’t have any friends like Shawn, friends who make me want to forget myself and strip them naked in the middle of the woods.
Shawn stops his hammering and strolls over like he’s auditioning to be Mr. October in a fundraiser calendar of sexy construction workers. “Hey.”
“Uh, hey.” Luis is still standing there, so I can’t exactly demand an explanation, and I definitely can’t kiss him hello, even though his lips have the audacity to be right there.
“Hey,” Shawn says again, as if maybe he’s coming up equally empty in the conversation department, especially with an audience.
“Can I check with you about the second-floor plans?” Luis says into the gap of silence between the three of us.
“Sure. Thanks for helping out,” I finally say to Shawn, because whatever chain of events led him here, I’ll hear about it later.
At our date tonight. And in the meantime, it’s pretty cool of him to want to help.
That he’s good at it doesn’t surprise me.
He’d mentioned working construction when he was in the minors.
Hammering nails is probably like riding a bike.
I manage to concentrate on Luis’s questions about the second-floor bathroom window dimensions; the one I ordered might be too big for the space.
I also do my best to ignore Shawn. He and Leo seem to be working together on the framing out of the kitchen.
While Luis and I talk, they get three crossbeams laid in.
At this rate, they’ll be working on the second floor in no time.
“When does the subflooring go in?” I ask.
“We’ll start tomorrow. We gotta keep ahead of the weather,” Luis says. “My guys are willing to work overtime.”
“Sounds good.” Then I remember I’m building this house for someone who doesn’t want it.
I walk a few dozen feet back from the house, taking it in with fresh eyes. The clean lines, the view down to the lake—it’s going to be sensational. I built it thinking someday Brooke might want to raise a family here, but it seems she has other plans.
Once I finish building the house, I could rent it out, recoup the construction cost.
Or I could live here myself. The four-bedroom, three-bathroom floor plan seems too much for a single guy rattling around.
But what if I shared it with someone? We could each have an office and keep one bedroom for guests.
And then there’s the possibility of having my own kids one day.
I don’t hate the idea, hypothetically. I’ve already raised one teenager to adulthood, but that’s not the same.
Who knows what the future might hold? All I know for sure is right now.
My gaze snaps to Shawn, bent over a toolbox as he trades one hammer for another. He straightens and sees me looking at him. He smiles, tips the brim of his absurdly sexy hard hat in my direction.
We could live here together, my brain whispers. The horrible, wonderful idea burrows into my heart against my common sense. I can’t be thinking that about someone I’ve known for a couple of weeks. Someone whose real life is hundreds of miles away.
Someone I’m falling in love with.
I close my eyes against the unfairly vivid dream of living here with Shawn and head to my truck without saying goodbye.