Chapter 61
Sixty-One
I decide to look for another job. It’s April and I’m still getting crappy assignments with the occasional feature, just enough to keep me dangling on the proverbial hook like a sucker fish.
When I ask Tyler for an update on the bogus “complaint,” he says there’s no new information, meaning this is now the status quo.
Don appears to be waiting me out—or maybe he no longer cares, now that Tanya’s fulfilling his needs. Insufferable, predatory, chauvinist pig.
I’m casting my net wider in hopes I can move closer to Butch. Moving would be difficult for him, between Emmy and his role in the family business, but there’s nothing shackling me to Richmond aside from more opportunities.
Unfortunately, the early prospects prove dim.
The only publication in Hampton Springs is The Gazette , a weekly newspaper, and they’re not hiring.
No magazines operate in the small towns and the next one worth applying for is based in Virginia Beach—just as far from the lumberjack as I am now. I’m trapped until further notice.
I relay all this to Butch on Friday night when I’m back at his place .
“Something will open up,” he says with confidence.
“You’re refreshingly optimistic.”
He shrugs. “ You happened. I never predicted that, so now I think anything’s possible.”
I move in closer and circle my hands around his waist, tilting my head up at him. “You sure know how to sweep a woman off her feet.”
In answer, he corrals my legs from under me and hefts me into his arms, bride-style, causing me to squeal.
Emmy barrels into the kitchen with the dog scrambling behind her.
“Dogpile!” she chants, jumping into the fracas.
Hemi follows, and Butch exaggeratedly falls to the floor without letting me go. Our peals of laughter fill the air as our limbs tangle and Hemi gives our faces big sloppy licks.
After Emmy’s dance class, we stop by his parents’ house so I can say hello.
“Come here, cutie pie,” Gus hollers at his granddaughter. “Give your PopPop a squeeze.”
“I’m not pie!” she answers with a touch of irritation, as if she’s explained all this to her grandfather before.
“You know I think you’re sweet enough to eat.” He bends down and Emmy wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek.
I’m awarded hugs by Gus and Jerri too, par for the course these days.
“I just made coffee cake,” Jerri says. “You all come in and have a slice.”
My stomach rumbles in agreement. “Sounds delicious.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Jacqui,” Gus adds. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Now I’m intrigued.
We settle around the informal table with slices of the crumb-topped cake and coffees before us. I groan at the airy first bite bursting with brown sugar and cinnamon. Jerri returns my satisfied smile with her own.
“You are the best cook,” I say.
Gus clears his throat, and my gaze swings his way. “I want to pursue the magazine, and if you’re willing, I’d sure appreciate your help.”
Butch’s head jerks in my periphery as my eyes stay fastened on his father. “How exciting. You figured out the logistics, printing, and all the nitty-gritty details?”
He shakes his head, looking a little sheepish. “That’s where you come in.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d like to hire you to nail down the specifics, outline the first year of issues, determine its overall viability.
Since you already have a job, I figure we can iron out a consultant fee.
A lot of this you can do on your own time, of course, and then we’ll get together in person as schedules allow. ”
Butch scrubs his jaw. “Are you sure you want to take this on, Dad? It’s going to be time consuming. I know you’re less hands-on with the restorations now, but I don’t want you stretching yourself too thin. We’re swamped with business.”
“That’s why Jacqui’s helping to sketch out the details.
I won’t make any final decisions until I see the numbers, time investment, and fine print, so to speak.
Right now, it’s just a possibility, but a damn attractive one.
And there’s clearly a hole in the market, that much I know.
This will put Hamilton Restorations on the map. ”
“We already are,” Butch answers, an edge to his voice.
Gus raps his knuckles on the table. “Let your old man tinker around with this idea. It’s something I dreamed of years ago, a dream that’s never faded. I only have more of a contribution to make in our industry by creating this magazine. ”
I gently squeeze Butch’s forearm. “It would be a niche publication, and those can do very well because they’re so specialized.”
“Whose side are on you on, Sundance?”
“Team Hamilton all the way,” I answer with a grin.
Butch rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath.
“Gus, I’d be happy to consult on this, but you don’t need to pay me or anything.”
He snorts. “I’m paying for your expertise, and I won’t hear another word otherwise.”
We don’t hang around long once the conversation ends. Emmy opts to run home through the wooded path and Butch and I drive the car back. He’s turned broody and quiet; the energy between us tense.
“I can tell you’re unhappy about this,” I say, reaching behind his head and stroking down his neck. “Why though?”
He grunts. His jaw muscle pulses.
I knead this taut skin and watch his lids droop as he sinks into it. Butch loves being touched…even if he’s mad.
“Baby…” I prod.
His eyes flash my way, then back on the road. My hand falls to my lap.
“First, I meant what I said,” he explains.
“We’re stretched thin at the business, and him gallivanting around with a time-consuming new venture is going to make everything harder.
That negatively impacts you and me, and I think we can both agree the last thing we need is less time with one another, correct? ”
“True.”
“Second, you getting involved in your spare time? Same impact. What fucking spare time? You think I want this taking away from the paltry minutes we patch together? He had no right to ask that of you without talking to me.”
“Whoa, now. You’re not my keeper. ”
He rakes a hand violently through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What do you mean?” I cross my arms.
“He’s told me very little about all this when it directly impacts my life, my livelihood, my time, and now my girlfriend.”
I soften at his words but remain stern. “You don’t want me to help your dad then?”
“I don’t fucking know.” He steers the Barracuda down his driveway and pauses halfway with his foot on the brake, spearing me with a gaze blazing with intensity. “What I want is more of you, as much of you as I can get, every goddamn fucking day.”
My heart melts. Butch’s love is ferocious, and he’s not afraid to own it or display it. I unbuckle my seatbelt and finagle my way onto his lap—not the easiest feat since the man is massive and the car…not.
“What are you?—”
My lips collide with his, my tongue running along the seam and demanding entry. The kiss says everything: I love you, I want you, I need you, I’m yours.
He responds, gripping the sides of my face. His tongue ravages mine, taking what I’m offering.
We part, our foreheads touching as our collective breath mingles.
“I love you, Butch.”
“I love you more.”
“We’ll work all this out, I promise.”
His head dips wearily. I climb back into my seat, and he drives to the house. Emmy’s waiting on the porch then breaks into a run toward her father, worry creasing her features. He hurries out of the car, and I fly out my own side in time to witness her clutch his body.
“Hey, you okay?” he says. “What’s wrong?”
Emmy nods, solemn. “I needed to love you. ”
Butch chuckles and hefts her into his arms. “I thought something terrible had happened.”
“Love withdrawal is terrible.”
Be still my heart. And damn if these two haven’t stolen mine.