Chapter 6
chapter six
Reid
I can’t remember the last time I ate mac and cheese from a box.
Maybe that makes me a snob, I don’t know. I try to be really careful about what I eat, making sure I’m giving my body the best that I can. But as I scoop up another spoonful of the most horrifically orange pasta from my Ninja Turtle bowl, I can’t help but admit…it’s pretty delicious.
“How was your day?” I ask Busy as I lean back against the kitchen counter, bowl in one hand and spoon in the other.
She bobs her head, finishing off her own bite before speaking.
“Good. Had lunch down at the beach park near the marina and got a little too much sun, but otherwise it was a pretty good day. How about you?”
“Same, basically,” I reply, scooping up another spoonful of mac and cheese. “Work, lunch, work.”
My eyes scan her exposed skin, taking in the hint of pink on her shoulders and nose, highlighting the freckles that are already there and surely adding more.
“Up until last year, there were umbrellas at the picnic tables at the beach park, but some kids lit them on fire over the summer.”
At that, Busy’s head rises, her eyes wide. “Seriously?”
I nod. “I didn’t see them lit up, just the aftermath. But Teddy can see the beach park from his girlfriend’s apartment, and he said it was wild.”
Busy shakes her head, still looking shocked. “It sounds wild. I feel like this town has had enough of things being lit on fire.”
I nod, knowing she’s referring to the fire that nearly burned down One Stop a few years back. Losing our town’s only grocery store was quite the ordeal and had a huge impact on everyone. Nick had to collaborate with a construction crew from Belleview to get the work done, with everyone working long days and late nights to make sure things were repaired as fast as possible. Those of us who had experience with tools and construction stepped in as often as we could to help. Even still, it took months before it was back up and running.
“You’re friends with Teddy Waltham?” Busy asks, bringing me back to our conversation.
I shrug. “Kind of. Nick’s my best friend and Teddy kind of just…comes with the territory,” I joke. “We get beers every so often. He’s a good kid.”
Busy nods. “Teddy and I were in the same year in high school.”
I remember him saying as much during poker night, but I think I still assumed she was a few years older than him.
“How old are you?” I ask her, the question out before I can help myself.
“I’ll be 23 in October.”
I snort at the way she says it, the way kids talk about their next birthday, certain it will make them sound older than they really are. But really, hearing Busy tell me she’s 22 years old makes me feel…
I don’t even know. Far older than I actually am, that’s for sure, and fucking guilty as hell for how my eyes have wandered over her body since she moved in three weeks ago. I knew she was young, but it’s one thing to tell yourself someone is too young for you, quite another to hear that they’re a full decade younger. If I think Teddy’s a kid, Busy’s not much different.
“Why? How old are you?”
She asks it like it’s a challenge, and I chuckle as I respond.
“I’ll be 33 on Christmas.”
There was no reason for me to say it like that other than to imitate her, and she rolls her eyes, her lips turning up in a smile.
“You’re not that old.”
God, I feel even more ancient when she says it like that.
“Trust me. My body disagrees,” I tell her, taking the opportunity to roll out my shoulders, which are still feeling particularly tight from my long day at work.
I forgot to stretch and do my exercises this morning, having woken up a bit late and rushing out the door with only a few minutes to spare. As I stretch one arm and then the next, I don’t miss the way Busy’s eyes scan my arms and chest. I certainly feel younger when she looks at me like that.
Licking my lips, I shake my head, knowing that being here is trouble. That I should grab my dog and head back home, leaving Busy and her daughter to their evening.
“Wait…did you say you’ll be 33 on Christmas?”
I chuckle, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Then she freezes. “I mean…not that I’m sorry , but I’ve always wondered what that’s like.”
I shrug. “It’s about what you’d expect. People lump your birthday in with Christmas, so it never really gets celebrated.”
“That is…so sad.”
“It sucked as a kid, but now, I can’t complain. I take two weeks off of work every year to make up for it, so…”
“Well, at least you’re staying positive,” she says. Then she hitches a thumb at Junie. “This one’s also a holiday baby.”
My eyebrows rise. “Really?”
She nods. “She was born on the Fourth of July.” She looks at Junie. “Huh, Junie Bee? And mom struggled to get you to latch all night because fireworks kept going off and you’d just cry and cry.”
I wince. “That sounds tough. Lucky girl, though. She’ll get fireworks every year on her birthday.”
Busy nods. “This year will be the first time she’ll get to truly experience fireworks. Last year I put headphones on her to protect her from the sound. She hated them, but at least she didn’t lose her hearing.” She giggles again. “Though I’m not looking forward to the day she’s old enough to realize the fireworks are not actually for her.”
“All done!”
I turn, grinning when my eyes land on Junie, both her hands in the air, completely covered in orange “cheese.” She’s beaming, clearly proud of herself.
“Let me wipe you off and then you can give the puppy a kiss goodbye, okay? Sydney and Mr. Reid probably have better things to do with their evening.”
I’d like to tell her I’m doing exactly what I want to, but I keep that thought to myself.
Busy grabs some wipes and cleans up Junie’s hands and face, the sweet kid squirming and giggling, before letting her down out of the chair. She immediately grabs onto Sydney, who has been waiting dutifully at her feet hoping for a scrap or two of food, which I don’t doubt she got judging by all the lick marks on the floor.
“Thanks again for dinner.”
I take my empty bowl to the sink and give it a rinse. I’ll need more food once I head back to my place, but she doesn’t need to know that. She made an extra box of pasta to share with me, and I don’t doubt that was a sacrifice for a single mom, even if a relatively small one.
“And for loving on Sydney,” I continue. “She and Junie are clearly turning into best buds.”
Busy crosses her arms, a smile on her face. “Oh trust me, I have loved watching Junie chase Sydney around. My kid is going to sleep so good tonight.”
I grin, too. “Well, any time my dog can be of service, let me know.”
A funny expression crosses Busy’s face, but it’s gone in a flash, her eyes following Junie around the room until they veer into a bedroom and disappear.
“So you and Teddy were friends in high school?” I ask, returning to our earlier conversation.
I lean back against the counter and cross my arms, stalling, not exactly ready to go.
Busy nods. “Kind of. We were in the same friend group, had a lot of overlapping friends.”
I try to reconcile what I know about Teddy with the image I’ve been creating of who Busy is, and something about it feels…off.
“What’s that look for?”
I grin sheepishly. “I just…can’t picture the two of you being friends.”
Busy shrugs and lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well, I’ve changed just a bit from my high school days.”
“How so?”
She leans against the counter, her arms braced wide. “I don’t get high anymore, for one.”
Clearly, she knew where my mind was more so than I was expecting.
“Unless the occasion really calls for it,” she adds on.
At that, I can’t help but laugh, and Busy’s resulting smile nearly bowls me over. I barely know the girl, but somehow that natural, easy, effortless expression of hers has become something I look forward to.
My laugh tapers off, but my own smile remains, my eyes fixed on her.
“I can’t picture you being friends with Teddy,” Busy says, drawing my attention back to her. “I mean, what do you even talk about? You know, since you’re so much older than him .”
She says the last part dramatically, and I shake my head.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Sports. Hiking. Camping.”
“You like to go camping?”
Her entire face brightens when she asks that question, and I nod. “I do.”
“Ugh, I love camping. My family and I used to do the Kilroy hike every year together and camp at the top so we could see the sunrise in the morning. It was one of my favorite things, every summer.” She shakes her head, her smile still wide as she remembers. Then her face twists slightly. “Then I got pregnant, and let me tell you…these buns weren’t hiking anything .”
My lips tip up.
“I’ve skipped the past two years.”
“You gonna try to do it this year?”
Busy lets out a long, slow breath then shrugs. “I don’t know actually. Maybe. If they want me to.”
There’s something odd about the way she says that, as if her family might not want her to join them. I open my mouth to comment on it, but before I can, Busy puts her hand up, a single finger in the air, her head turned to the side.
“Do you hear that?”
I turn my head in the same direction, listening.
“No.”
“Exactly,” she whispers.
She wanders off, coming to a stop at the threshold of the bedroom just off the living space. She chuckles then looks back to me, tilting her head toward the room and waving me over.
“Forget what I said about becoming best buds,” she says quietly as I step up to the doorway. “These girls are sisters.”
Lying on a blanket in the middle of the room, Junie and Sydney are snuggled together, both with their eyes closed, completely tuckered out. It really is adorable, and part of me wishes I could let Sydney stay the night, like a little sleepover.
“They’re pretty cute,” I say. “I almost hate to wake them up.”
Busy hums, and that’s when I realize how close we are. Inches apart, my body hovering just behind hers. God, I can smell her, something floral and bright. Maybe it’s perfume or her shampoo or some kind of lotion. I can’t tell. All I know is it smells delicious.
When Busy turns, looking up at me, a smile still on her face, I can’t help the way my eyes dip, taking in that scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the tiny dimple on the right side of her mouth, the slight crease at the center of her plump lip.
What is this…possession that comes over me when she’s near? This inability to think straight when we’re within feet of each other? All I can imagine is what it would be like to reach out and bring her in against my chest. Move her petite body flush with mine, feel her softness pressed against me.
I swallow thickly, my brain conjuring images of what it would be like if I could just…bend down and press my lips to hers. I dip just slightly, my eyes glued to her mouth, and I know I don’t imagine it when her chin tilts up just a bit.
But you can’t , a quiet voice whispers. You promised.
Gritting my teeth, I step back, putting space between us, repeating the same words over and over in my head like a chant.
You promised.
You promised.
You promised.
Busy clears her throat then steps further into Junie’s room, and I watch as she slowly maneuvers her daughter, releasing her little hands from Sydney’s fur one at a time before carrying her carefully to her bed. Sydney hops up then and walks out of the room, coming to my side.
“Well, we’ll get out of your hair,” I say quietly, patting Sydney on the head.
Busy tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she steps out of Junie’s room, shutting the door softly behind her. Then she spins around and smiles, though some of the lightness that was in it just a few minutes ago is missing.
“Have a good night, Reid.”
I don’t linger any longer, even though I wish there were something I could say to eliminate the weird tension that’s suddenly hovering in the air. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything you can say to someone after you almost kiss them but don’t to make the situation easier. You just kind of have to let it…be.
Like I told Jeremiah, Busy’s a single mom. She doesn’t need someone trying to get into her pants, and the truth of my life is that I wouldn’t be able to give her more than just a good time. And even that isn’t something I should be doing.
I know I made the right choice by pulling away, keeping myself from making such a huge mistake. But at the same time, as I crawl into bed later that night, my belly full of neon pasta and the space next to me cold and empty, I can’t help but wish things were different.
“Sydney.” I pat the space next to me, knowing I’m breaking my own rules by calling her over to snuggle. She’s there in a flash, plopping down at my side, resting her head on my stomach.
Eventually, I fall asleep, but not until I’ve played and replayed my moment with Busy over and over again, wishing I didn’t always feel the need to do the right thing .
Because making a mistake with Busy Mitchell sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.
I bring the circular saw down and slip the wood along the rotating blade, slicing off the live edge. It clatters to the ground, though the sound doesn’t register over the whine of the blade and the protective earwear I have on. Flipping the wood around, I measure then do the same with the other edge.
As much as I enjoy any kind of woodworking, there’s a certain kind of sadness I feel when I take a slab as beautiful as this one and cut off a live edge. Mostly because I think it adds a bit of character and personality that a 90-degree angle doesn’t provide, but also because it isn’t the way I would do it if it were up to me.
But that’s the thing about taking on clients who want custom projects. The final result has to be their vision, not mine. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.
Movement at my side pulls my attention, and I glance toward the open rolling door that faces the parking lot, grinning when I spot Nick stepping inside. I hold up one finger then make quick work of cutting the other two edges before shutting down my saw and tugging off my headphones.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?”
Nick nods. “Good. Here about the leather chairs we talked about.”
“Yeah, gimme a sec to move these and wash my hands, then we can chat?”
I hoist the two slabs of wood over my shoulder and take them over to the large shelves I have set up against the wall, sliding them in place in the area I have labeled for this particular project. Then I head to the work sink and wash up.
“Okay,” I say, leading Nick into my office. I pat Sydney on the head where her bed is set up next to my desk, take a seat, then wake my computer. “Remind me again what this is for?”
“Ellis wants new chairs for the lounge area buildout at Dock 7.”
I nod. “That’s right.”
“Said she has always loved the ones you made for Cedar Cider and wants something with a different look but a similar feel.”
With a bit of pride, I pull up the details for the chairs I made for the local brewery—one of the only custom projects I handled completely on my own before my dad passed away—and open the specs on my computer screen.
“I did love those chairs.”
Nick chuckles. “They’re works of art.”
Leaning back in my seat, I cross my arms. “So what’s the deal? I know you’re doing the buildout to add the lounge area, but are you doing design now, too?”
“Nah.” He bats a hand my direction. “Ellis is just old school, you know? She hasn’t worked with you before and I’ve done a few projects for her over the years.” He shrugs. “I think she just wants to make sure someone she trusts is handling it.”
I bob my head, though I can’t completely ignore the pinch at the unspoken truth. Ellis used to go to my dad for furniture for Dock 7, but he’s gone. Even though she’s known me practically since I was born, she’s putting on her business hat and adding a middleman because she doesn’t entirely trust me .
I look back at my screen and the detailed notes I have for the project I did for the brewery, knowing I can’t allow myself to spend too much time dwelling on that. As much as I know Ellis likes me as a person, business is business.
“Well, if she wants a dozen of them, I’ll need about three months once I’ve sourced the wood and leather. So, maybe four months to delivery?”
“That’s perfect. We’re aiming to be done with the project by mid fall, so that’ll be a good time for install.”
“Makes sense to finish up before it gets cool. I’m looking forward to that fireplace.”
I love Dock 7. It’s a restaurant on the west side of the lake with a really cozy vibe and beautiful deck area that books out weeks in advance during the summer because everyone wants to eat with a view of the lake.
Locals call the place Lucky’s, because during high tourist season, the bar is a veritable hot spot for finding casual hookups with people just stopping through town. I might have taken advantage of that truth during my 20s, before Sarah, but eventually I moved on from that kind of life, and I haven’t really been back to Lucky’s for more than a dinner or two since.
With the renovations happening, I might need to reconsider, if not for the hookups, certainly for the new whiskey tasting lounge Nick’s building off the bar. It’s going to have a fireplace and dark walls and sconces and, apparently, wood and leather chairs made by me. Sounds like a dream, and I can’t wait to see the finished work.
“Getting the guys together to grab a beer tonight,” Nick says as we step out of my office a while later, once we’ve finalized the details for the chairs. “You wanna join in?”
A beer sounds nice, but I’ve been feeling overworked this week.
“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” I say, massaging the joints in my right hand with my left. “But thanks.”
We come to a stop at the doorway that leads out to the parking lot. “Well if you change your mind, you know where we’ll be.”
I nod. “I do.”
We shake hands.
“I’ll catch you later,” he says, then heads off in the direction of where his truck is parked a ways away.
I turn, flexing my hands and doing a few stretches before I tug a different project off the shelf, a table top with a stain that has finally finished drying. Then I get back to work. As much as I enjoy spending time with Nick and the guys, I enjoy time on my own just a bit more, and a quiet night with my dog and a book sitting on my deck sounds like a perfect evening.
If Busy and Junie happen to be there?
Well, I wouldn’t hate it.