11. Leif
11
I reach into my toolbelt, feeling for my pencil to mark out where I’m cutting into the timber next.
“Is that the last one?” Dad calls out.
I move over to the jigsaw, set up on the trestle beside me and lower my safety glasses. “Yeah, this is it,” I say as I start to cut along the curve.
Dad, my cousin Tristan, and I have spent the weekend building my mother a gazebo. Of course, she wanted planter boxes and fancy arches. But what my mother wants, my mother gets. There isn’t anything my dad or I wouldn’t do for her. Tristan, as well. Including spending hours in the boiling sun building another new fixture for her garden.
I’m glad the hardware store is open late most days. I was able to pick up all the supplies we needed Friday night, plus order things I needed for projects at work. Like Claire’s paint. She hasn’t been quite so disagreeable lately, actually taking on my suggestions. I feel like I’ve learnt how to handle her over the last few weeks. Rather than outright question her decisions, I simply show her a second option. Perhaps it makes her feel like the ball is still in her court.
I wasn’t trying to suggest she was wrong in her first choices. So often, clients come to us unsure of what they want. I’m used to providing guidance, and my endgame is to make sure everyone walks away with exactly what they were hoping for. Quality work and a reputation for supporting our clients through every aspect of their project are what’s going to help Connors Construction grow.
We’re still a baby company. This is only my third year operating as the boss. The idea for my own business grew because the guy I worked for during my apprenticeship retired. He mostly did renovations, and I always admired the way he developed personal relationships with his clients. He built up a level of trust and respected the sentimental value that people carried with them when it came to the space they called home. I liked the way John did business, so when he decided to put down his tools, I asked to buy him out. Mum and Dad helped me, and I was able to take over his warehouse and office.
When I renamed Hardy Homes to Connors Construction, he made it a point to tell all his previous clients that I was taking over. Westley used to work for John as well. He stayed with me, and I was glad to not only keep his friendship but his expertise and support in growing my own company. Especially when it came to working with clients like Claire.
I like to manage the biggest jobs myself and do a majority of the budgeting and ordering materials for most of our projects. It means my supervisors can focus on building relationships with their clients and being available on site instead of being bogged down with admin and paperwork.
John’s daughter, Britt, stayed on as our pre-start coordinator, helping clients to be confident with their colour and material selections. Especially if they were the ones who truly didn’t know what they wanted. She helps with keeping all of us boys organised with our schedules as well. As long as we don’t ask anything of her before her morning dark roast has hit and we don’t interrupt her Kindle time at lunch, we end up with a happy Britt and a smooth sailing day.
I switch off the jigsaw and take the last arch for the corner piece to the gazebo. There’s a table set up on the concrete slab that was poured a few weeks ago for the gazebo’s base. I grab my drill off the table and step up a few rungs on the ladder. I hold the timber in place and fix it to the structure just as Mum’s voice floats through the garden.
“Wow, my boys! How beautiful!” I smile over at her as she walks along the brick path that winds through her various garden beds.
She has a mix of fruits, vegetables and flowers out here. Lining the fences, she has citrus trees and grapevines. There’s an empty patch of soil waiting for her new climb structure to be delivered so she can plant some passionfruit, which means my favourite melting moments recipe will be on the menu soon. But her new gazebo is more for pleasure than purpose. Daisies, snapdragons and cornflowers will fill the beds along the front, leaving room for sunflowers around the back of the structure, giving Mum and Dad a perfect place to sit and enjoy their space and the life they’ve created together.
“Happy, love?” Dad smiles, just as Mum makes her way to his side, his arm outstretched and waiting for her to nestle right in.
“It’s just how I pictured it.” She looks up at him with soft eyes and waiting lips, which Dad always meets.
I can grumble and squirm at their affection, but in truth, I know I’m lucky to have grown up with such a healthy view of love. My parents may have their disagreements at times, but they always come together with patience, words and a side of playfulness. It could have turned any one of me or my younger sisters into hopeless romantics, but I think the way my parents move and collide with each other has had, not an opposite, but an adjacent effect.
It’s made us confident in who we are, what we have to offer someone and what we need back.
Astrid is gentle and quiet. She sees the beauty in everything and everyone, admiring the unique and usual. When people say life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, it’s because they haven’t met my sister yet. She is all about colour, and with a camera permanently affixed to her hand, her motto may as well be; Smile! I can only hope my sister finds someone who appreciates her big heart.
Thyra is a whole different kettle of fish. She couldn’t be more opposite to her twin. Loud, impulsive, and you wouldn’t think someone who wears so much black could also be such a delicate and disciplined dancer. But Thyra’s the kind of person to laugh in your face, throw back a shot and say, watch me. A little standoffish on the outside, she’s sentimental at heart, collecting trinkets and treasures wherever she goes. Lord help the man who finds themselves in the eye of the storm that is Thyra.
My sisters are only twenty-one, so I’m not sure if serious relationships are on their radar yet. I’m not even sure if they’re on my radar yet. I’ve dated casually. I enjoy getting to know people, intellectually and physically. I wonder what made my parents know they were right for each other. Did it come with time? Was it an instant wildfire?
If I meet someone I like, I won’t hesitate to keep making the moves. I don’t like to overpromise, but I’m not one of those guys who sits back and plays games.
At least, I didn’t think I was. My Bombshell seems capable of making me do all kinds of new things I’m not used to doing. Not in a sexual sense, although holy fuck the way my body reacts to hers is definitely the hottest and strongest thing I’ve ever felt. But in the way she makes me work for it. That’s not me being cocky either. I like to think I’m good at attracting people who are on the same wavelength as I am when it comes to dating and sex. But this girl is a game changer.
My attraction to people has always gone hand in hand with words and touch, but this fiery little thing likes to lead with her body. I’m a hot-blooded male, and when a woman like that wants to take a turn in the driver’s seat headed straight for lover’s lane, I’d be stupid to deny her.
I’ve never felt so physically attracted to anyone, so needy for them. Being with her has unlocked something primal in me. One text message and I’m dropping everything to go to her. She may be different, but my need to know her in a way that’s more than what she’s giving me isn’t. I want that connection of the heart and mind, too. I feel like this is the start of something worth exploring. But every time I push, she shuts me down.
I don’t know why she’s so against furthering our connection and I still don’t even know her damn name.
I’m not giving up, though. I just need to play her game.
Or I need to beat her at it.