16. Iron Jack
IRON JACK
Ihave to get out of this bed or I’ll never leave it.
By lunchtime on Monday, I have enough willpower to pull away from Greta and fetch us some food.
I don’t bother to fully dress, heading to the kitchen in shorts and a T-shirt.
Betz stands by the kitchen sink, puffing on a cigarette. “Chain!” she calls out the open window. “You won the bet! He came out three minutes after noon!”
There’s a weak cheer from the back porch.
I shake my head. “We have to eat,” I growl at her.
“Oh, you are a bear this morning. I mean, afternoon.” She punches a button on the microwave.
“I’ll rewarm the French toast Christina cooked up.
The eggs will be more rubbery than the trash can full of condoms you’ve certainly filled up.
” She squints her beady eyes at me. “And you better be using them. Don’t knock up city folk.
They got rules about their ankle biters that you aren’t gonna be able to abide by. ”
The microwave dings, and she keeps talking in a high, keening voice as she pulls the plate out.
“Don’t put babies on bikes!” She snags two forks from a drawer and piles them on top of the French toast. “Don’t let that kid try beer before they’re ten!
” She snatches up a bottle of syrup and passes it to me along with the plate.
“Did that girl say a cuss word? Put her in timeout!”
Betz turns me around by the shoulders and pushes me toward the hall. “We ought to put you two cum junkies in timeout. Don’t forget you’ve got that on-site meeting this afternoon about the new build.”
Shit, right. I do have that. “Thanks, Betz.”
When I return to my room, Greta has slid on a T-shirt and panties. Damn it. I wanted to lick syrup off her nipples. I’m about to demand she take her top off for breakfast, or lunch, or whatever this is, when someone pounds on my door.
Greta squeals and takes off for the bathroom and closes the door. I set the plate on the bedside table to see who the fuck is disturbing me.
It’s Hoss, skulking too close to the door. He makes no secret of peering over my shoulder to try to take a gander at what’s been going on in here.
I punch his shoulder hard enough to send him back a step. “What the fuck do you want?” I ask.
“Goddamn, Iron Jack. Don’t get your knickers in a wad. Shamus wants us to move the meeting this afternoon to one. It’s gonna rain and he doesn’t want to drive his truck out on the property site since it’s borderline marsh already.”
Fuck. That’s in less than an hour. “All right. I’ll be out there shortly.”
Hoss peers past me again. “Maybe time for one more round. Have you even let her put her clothes back on?”
I slam the door in his face. I take a woman for a few days and everyone seems to think they can give me their damn opinions.
Greta peeks through the crack in the bathroom door. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah.”
She comes out, her red hair all askew, legs long below the hem of my too-large shirt. Fuck. I’d rather skip the food and take her instead.
But she sits on the edge of the bed and picks off a corner of the French toast. “Sounds like you have to actually go to work.”
“Yeah. We’re starting a new construction job, and the land will take shoring up, but with rain in the forecast, we won’t be able to get on site for a few days if it gets a good soak.”
“How do you build on marsh? Won’t the foundation shift?” She’s hungry, it’s clear, because she starts forking bites without bothering with syrup.
“It’s a process. Draining the ground. Bringing in stable soil.”
“Why do it? I assume there’s a reason why there’s miles and miles of empty marsh.”
“Yeah, it’s expensive and risky. For real people doing regular work.”
She realizes she’s already eaten half the French toast and holds the plate up to me. “Your people aren’t real people?”
I wave at her to finish it. I can pick up something when I’m out. “We’re not what you might call always operating on standard procedures. Poor people build where they can, how they can. We help out.”
“So it’s charity.”
“Land is expensive around here. If people come by a plot that traditional builders won’t bother with, they can ask somebody like us to build on it. They know the risk.”
“And if the building collapses?”
“This particular parcel is sturdy enough. It’s a glorified shack for a family who is priced out of Miami but needs a place to live and add a machine shop.”
She has more questions, I can see them behind her eyes, but she doesn’t ask them.
“I guess I shouldn’t go with you, then, although it’s probably less shady than the wedding gig.”
I sit next to her. She’s demolished the French toast. “It won’t be too interesting. Just testing some soil. Doing a quick drill down to find solid ground.”
“What should I do while you’re gone?”
I slide my hand up her shirt to the warm, smooth breast. “Get yourself ready for me.”
“I think I’ve been that way for days.”
“Good.” I pull away. “Let’s shower. Then I’ll get this done and get back to you as fast as I can.”
She sets the plate down and takes the hand I’ve extended to her. “Why do I suspect this shower invitation comes with a side of more of what we’ve been up to since Saturday?”
I slide my fingers in the elastic edge of her panties and ease them down. “Because that’s what you like.”
She laughs in my ear. “With you, I do.”
And her admitting it makes my chest soar.