by Sade Rena
“What are we looking for?” I ask, curious about this new idea.
“Shiplap for the walls. I’m picturing a thick-cut, and for the backsplash, I want subway tile.”
“Parker! This sounds like more work. How do we even know how much to get?”
“Babe, relax. It’ll turn out great, and I still have the measurements I took when we started on my phone. I’ll get an estimated amount based on your square footage. We’ll cut it to be exact before placing the boards.” He rubs my shoulders for reassurance.
I shake my head. “I don’t want you to add to your plate. You’ve already done so much, and I’ve yet to pay you.”
“Stop all that. Did I mention money?”
“No.”
“Well, let me bring my vision to life. I wanna do this for you.”
I sigh, deciding not to press the issue. He’ll do what he wants no matter what I say. After we load a flatbed with the white panels, we swing in to pick up several boxes of finishing nails. We check out but don’t head straight home. Parker drives in the opposite direction, taking me to a part of town I’ve yet to explore.
It’s surprising considering there are under three thousand people here. With a population that small, there aren’t a lot of miles covering the city. We have a decent size library, a coffee shop, a convenience store with the post office being on the outskirts of town. I live somewhere in the middle with most of the townsfolk.
We coast the countryside with the windows rolled down and music blaring. A few minutes into the drive, he turns down a dirt road. Up ahead, I can make out a sign: McNeely Lumber.
The truck jerks into park, and Parker climbs out, barely letting it come to a complete stop. Before I could follow behind him, he’s already beyond the threshold, conversing with a young Hispanic man wearing a hard hat.
He nods as if he’s deep into his discussion. Parker pats the man on the forearm and rushes back to me. The car chimes when he opens the door and gets behind the wheel. Shifting gears, he maneuvers around the lot and backs up to the barn-like structure.
Without a word, he jumps out again, and a few seconds later, there’s a loud thump from behind me. I glance through the tiny back window to see the two of them loading several slabs of the same wood we used for the flooring.
Parker mutters goodbye to his colleague and rejoins me in the cab. “Ready?”
“Is this your family’s sawmill?”
“Yup. What gave it away? The name on the sign?” he teases.
I press my lips together to hide my smile. “Yes. And you didn’t ask me to pay.”
He revs the engine and pulls onto the road, ignoring my comment. Something he does anytime I mention money. The ride home is peaceful as I continue to take in the scenery. He doesn’t go the route we took to get to the lumber yard. Instead, he stays on the outskirts where all the ranch homes are located.
Is it sad the only places I’ve been in the town is my home, Nikki’s and Parker’s family’s property? I wouldn’t have guessed all of this was here. There’re lakes, a small park, and several farms. It’s fascinating to see things in this light, and I realize I don’t know much about what he loves.
Yes, we’ve had brief discussions, and I’ve been to the ranch, but I’ve never seen the day-to-day operations. We spend so much time working on my house it never occurred to me to ask.
We approach a fork in the road leading down the street I live on. He stops at the sign and continues once he’s sure we have the right of way.
“I’ve never been back here before?”
“You haven’t done much, have you?”
I shake my head with my lips perched tight. “No. I didn’t think there was much to see. Aside from the businesses in the town square, I didn’t realize you guys had all these back roads and stuff. I mean the population is tiny, how much space is needed?”
“Oh, sweetheart. Everything is bigger in Texas. And while we may be small, we have stuff. It’s not all animals and Nikki’s.”
I laugh. “Clearly.”
“I’ll tell you what. After we’re finished with the house, I’ll give you a proper tour. Even show you what the back road life is like?”
“What does that mean?” I quiz.
“It’s when you wait till after dark, turn up your music and cruise the dark roads.”
“That sounds interesting. I can’t imagine you can see very well doing that.”
“High beams and don’t do stupid shit like speed down an unlit path. Some do, though. Hell, I have, but I wouldn’t dare do that while you’re with me.”
I grin and look away. We pull into my driveway, and he shifts into park. I climb from the truck, walking around to the back to help him unload. He stops me in my tracks, instructing me to leave it be for him to handle.
It’s funny how he is with me. One moment he’s okay with me helping and others he tells me not to dare to lift a finger. I realize it’s the easier task he will accept my help on, but I better think twice when heavy objects are involved.
Parker meets me at the door as I hold it open for him. He maneuvers through the living room, setting everything in the kitchen. It’s already a mess, so why not? When he finishes, he joins me in the space between the front room and dining area.
“I’ll keep the white oak and cut those at home to fit what we need. All of my equipment to sand it down and epoxy is back in my shop. But I’ll bring the smaller saw to get the shiplap to a precise fit-”
“See, more work.”
He frames my face with his palms. “Ya gonna love it. Besides, it gives me another reason to be around you.”
“So, that’s your angle?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kisses my nose and hurries back to the kitchen. He takes out his supplies along with a piece of paper and measures the counter, writing what he needs for the custom cut.
“Uh,” I huff, unable to keep from smiling at him.
He picks up a canister of paint, a tray, and a roller and places them on the counter. I follow him in and settle next to him. He pours the liquid into the dish, then soaks the brush before handing it to me.
“You do the bottom cabinets, and I’ll take the top?”
“Sounds good,” I say while grabbing my materials and squatting to start my task.
Parker prepares a kit for himself and gets to work on the upper half. We’re both engrossed in work as a blanket of silence covers us. The only thing heard is the wet sticky sound of the paint binding to the hardwood. I set my stuff down and rush into the living room.
“Where are you going?” he asks over his shoulders.
I return. “I need music,” I answer while pressing play on my phone and turning the volume to its highest setting.
“What are we listening to?”
“One of my playlists,” I add, skipping back to my station.
“Ooo. For one of your sexy books?”
I toss my head back with a chuckle. “Oh, whatever. They’re just regular songs.”
“Okay. I’m just saying, you gotta warn me.”
I dart my gaze to him. “You think I’m trying to seduce you,” I say as a matter-of-factly.
“I’m saying you are a romance writer, you gotta warn me if I might get turned on listening to what inspires your words,” he jokes.
I look at him sideways and let my paint roller fall in the trash. “Is that what you think? That because I write love stories, I’m just horny all the time?”
The words leave me, and his eyes fly open. He swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple vibrating under his flesh.
“I-I’m not saying-” he stutters.
“I’m messing with you. Not all the songs are sexual, you’re safe.” I saunter back toward my area, giving him a reassuring look only to turn and refocus on the cabinets.
“So, how long do you think this change will take?” I ask with my back to him.
“About a day and a half, maybe two. I’ll bring Chance and Zack back with me on Thursday; we can knock
it out then. It’ll be a lot of banging and sawdust flying around. You can spend the day with Leah or head to the library to write while we work—what are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” I turn, confused. “I’m painting.
“Babe, that looks horrible.” He snorts.
“Yeah, right. I’m crafty, I’ve got this,” I defend.
“No. You don’t. Look at it.” He inches toward me, pointing at my handy work. “Why is it so clumpy over here and damn near see-through in this area?”
I suck my teeth. “It’s not that bad,” I add while bumping my shoulder into his side.
“Darlin’, I know you’re creative and all that, but I will never hire you to do a job.”
My mouth flies open. “Rude!”
He laughs. “No, babe... I’m being honest.”
“So you just care nothing about my feelings, huh? That’s okay, I got you,” I say while turning away.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He drops his supplies, the tray making a thud. “What ya say?” He’s behind me now, his hands on my shoulders.
“I said, I got you.”
“Aw,” he chuckles. “Don’t be mad; this just isn’t your thing.”
I work to hide my laugh but fail when it rumbles through me. “I’ma show you,” I mutter.
Without giving him the chance to defend himself, I twirl and run my roller down his shirt. His mouth goes wide, and so does his eyes. I back away snickering, knowing full well I may have started a war.
“It’s on.” He reaches for his brush and chases me with it.
I try to get away, but he’s fast and runs a line of paint down my back. I rush to get him again, this time landing on his forearm.
“Oops, sorry. I wanted your clothes.” I wince with my hands up. The liquid drips down my wrist, but I don’t care to stop it.
Parker hunches forward, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. We make eye contact, but there’s something mischievous in his. I don’t know how I know, but something tells me he’s about to get me good.
“Don’t do it.”
He smirks but doesn’t get me back. Parker leans into me, his mouth hovering over mine, and my gaze finds his lips before aiming back to his eyes. We smile at each other, neither saying a thing as we stay in this awkward position. Parker holds me tight with my back arched in his grasp. I rise on my toes, meeting him for a kiss, but when I do, he swipes his paintbrush over my chest.
My mouth is open. “No you didn’t,” I laugh.
He stops me from saying anything else with a kiss. One so deep, I moan in response. He pulls back, searching my eyes. I release the hold on my roller, and he does the same, both of them falling on the tarp beneath us.
His hands roam my body while I cup his face, bringing his mouth to mine again. He kisses me feverishly like he’s wanted to all day. Parker walks me to the counter, using the weight of my body to move the items resting there out of the way when he lifts me.
I reach for the tail of his now ruined t-shirt and pull it over his head. He backs away, only long enough to discard the material on the floor before crashing our mouths together again. God, I’ve missed his touch. It’s only been a day since I’ve been in his arms, and until now, I hadn’t realized how badly I yearned to be here again. I tug on his belt, fighting to undo the hook and find my prize.
“You don’t understand how much I’ve wanted to be with you again,” he moans, his breaths labored and short.
“I can imagine.”
I win the battle with his belt and drag it from his waist, letting it fall. Parker palms my breast through my top, kneading me as if it’s the last thing he’ll do. My head rolls back, and he dips into my neck, licking slow circles along my clavicle. Soon I feel his hands underneath the fabric, exploring my flesh while whispering to me how good I feel in his grasp.
“Gosh, babe. What are you doing to me?”
I don’t expect he wants an answer to his question; it’s rhetorical. He’s merely expressing his attraction to me, and it’s exhilarating to hear. Parker reaches behind me, aiming for the band of my bra. He fumbles with it for a second and gets one latch unhooked when his phone rings.
“Damn,” he mutters.
“Don’t answer it,” I say through hushed breaths.
He sighs. “I have to. Just give me a second.” He pecks my lips and digs into his front pocket.
I watch him, still out of breath, as he accepts the call and places the receiver to his ear.
“Yeah,” he lets out.
He goes quiet for a moment as whoever is on the other end speaks. Parker squeezes his eyes shut, and I know he needs to leave. I’d be lying if the look on his face doesn’t send a twinge of devastation surging through me.
He rubs his chin. “I’ll be right there.” He ends the call with his shoulders hunched.
“You gotta go?” I ask gingerly.
“I’m so sorry. That was Charlie. The cows got out again. Some were hurt from the wiring, so I gotta meet the vet and repair the fence.”
I pull him to me. “Don’t be sorry. It’s your job.”
“I swear I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.
I smile. “Okay,” I add, giving him a kiss on the cheek to reassure him.
He backs away, helping me down off the counter. I grab his shirt and hand it to him. He’s reluctant to take it, but I use my eyes to tell him it’s all good. We fix our clothing, and I escort him to the door.
He faces me. “I probably won’t get to stop by tomorrow. But, I’ll be back with the guys to finish up your kitchen, and if it doesn’t take us all day, maybe you and I can head to Nikki’s.”
I nod, and he kisses me. A moment later, we pull away, neither of us seeming to want the day to end, but both knowing it has too. I watch him climb into his Ford and pull away. I shut the door and press my back into it, only to let out a deep breath.
“Thanks, universe,” I huff and head to clean up the mess we just made.
Chapter Seventeen
Parker
I pull in front of Renee’s house. The sound of more tires rolling on the dirt-paved drive tells me the guys are right behind me.
“Now tell me again how you got us roped up in working on this house?” Chance’s voice overshadows the thump from doors closing. He’s at my passenger side window, slapping his ape hands against the crown on my Ford. “You hear me?”
I climb out and trek to the bed to retrieve my work bag. “You owe me. And we’ve been brothers our entire lives. This is what friends do.”
“Shitin’ me. Zack, you hear this idiot?” He thrusts his gaze at Zack and back. He walks to the bed on the opposite side of me. “How ya figure we owe you?”
“Yeah. I’ve only ever met this girl once at my party. Which you left by the way,” Zack says and lifts on his toes with his shoulders shrugged.
“Yup. You did leave your best friend to celebrate all alone while you chased some girl.” Chance turns his nose up at me.
“How about because you are to blame for me embarrassing myself when I met her.” I throw my arms out at my sides.
“What? It’s because of us you met her,” Chance screeches.
“Yeah, but I made a fool of myself in the process.”
“You do that all by yourself every damn day,” he gloats.
“Go to hell,” I snap.
Denton and one of our friends, Wes, join us in the middle of her yard.
“How about you owe for the million favors and times I had to be a wingman for y’all hookups.”
“Dude! Reciprocity for a wingman is to do regular wingman shit. Not building no damn house,” Wes interjects.
“For real, this is my one wingman request. Out of all the years, I’ve never pulled this card. I’d say that means I’ve built up one big ass favor.” I step off toward the house, not sticking around for their rebuttal.
“Bullshit,” a few of them say.
Even though they protest, neither hesitated to have my back on this. They talk
a good game, but will always come through no matter what. That’s how we remained close for so long. You outgrow relationships in life. People who you no longer connect with fades into memory as time goes on. But not with them.
Everyone disburses to grab tools and supplies to get to work. I convinced Renee and Leah to head to Bradford, leaving the guys to finish up the project. We have about ten hours before they return. I’m not sure if we’ll complete it all in that time frame, but I want to give her back her space so she can create that inspirational, homely vibe she craves. If we move strategically, we can do it. I certainly wouldn’t be able to on my own, hints me dragging them here.
“I already helped you with the floors, I should be exempt,” Chance continues.
I ignore him, deciding not to argue with him any longer. No matter how right or wrong he is, he’ll keep talking shit, anyway.
“Oh, so now ya don’t hear me.” He follows me around to the back of the house.
“Nope.” I set up my portable table saw.
Chance continues fussing while I lock everything in place. “Why not set this up in the house where we can easily access it?” he asks.
“Because.” I attach the plug to an extension cord, shuffling it through my grasp until I find the end. “Renee has allergies, and we wouldn’t be able to get all the dust and debris out of the air before she gets back,” I finish.
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” he teases.
“Shut up.” I leave him standing there and retreat to the house.
Chance is hot on my heels, still going on about my attention to Renee’s sensitivities. And even while yapping his mouth, he helps me pick and carry the shiplap out to the saw.
“Bro,” I grunt as we set the pieces on the ground. “Why don’t you use all that energy on cutting these up?” I reach in my pocket and pull out my measuring tape, pushing it into his grasp.
He scoffs at me, yet accepts the tool anyway. I chuckle and shift on my heel to head to Denton’s Dully. My F350 doesn’t have the bed capacity to transport the custom countertop, so we used his Dodge Ram instead.
“There he is,” Zack says when I approach. “Where do you want this to go?” He points to the counter.