“How do I look?” she asked, wearing a huge, excited grin that made me laugh. Fallon gave off a natural air of sophistication, and yet… she wanted to do something dirty and physical like demolishing her kitchen.
Fucking sexy, is what I wanted to say, because it was true.
“You look adorable,” is what I settled on, since that was also true. How the hell did this woman make everything look good?
I led her back into the kitchen, where I handed her a drill, and showed her how to unscrew the hinges from the cabinets while I continued scraping up the old, cracked porcelain tile.
“This is boring,” she whined. “On TV they just snatch this shit down.”
Shaking my head, I looked over to where she was standing, with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Because that’s TV. This is real life, and in real life, your ass will end up in the hospital.”
Truthfully, when I finished with the tile and could pull one of the guys from what he was doing, we would just rip the cabinets down. The wood was old, and the kitchen had a bit of water damage that had softened it over time, so it wouldn’t be that hard. That didn’t mean I wanted her to try it.
Two seconds after that thought left my mind, Fallon screamed, and I looked up just in time to see her falling, and a cabinet door came falling shortly behind her. She landed flat on her ass, and the door – hinges still attached since she’d ripped it down – landed on her head.
I threw my head back and laughed as she shoved the cabinet to the side, and a moment later, she started laughing too.
“And that,” I told her. “Is why we wear hard hats in work zones.”
She gave me a playful roll of her eyes. “Got it. Safety first.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Always safety first.”
“Goddamn, Nix. Can you stop sweating your old lady long enough to listen to this?”
He didn’t even flinch.
The big lunch rush had passed, so he was no longer swamped with the preparation of food truck orders, but Nixon was definitely still distracted. I was here at the time he asked to discuss the progress on the Pot Liquor building, but instead of paying attention, he was staring out the window at his wife.
“You see this shit, man?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “This dude has been grinning in her face for damn near fifteen minutes.” Still scowling, he pointed outside at where Charlie was having a conversation with a man who was obviously a customer.
But… old boy was looking pretty hard.
“He’s probably just talking about the food, man. And see how she has her hand out, flashing her ring, rubbing her belly. She’s letting him know she’s taken, right?”
“Still,” Nixon muttered. “And she’s out there with the new pregnant titties on display, looking all good. I’ve gotta buy her some damn turtlenecks or something. Look at this motherfucka, Sean! He’s not even looking at her face, just staring right into the titties. Do you see this shit?!”
“Nix... about the building…”
He pushed out a heavy sigh, then wiped his hands as he reluctantly looked away from the window. “Yeah, yeah. Aiight, tell me what’s going on.”
“All your heavy construction is done,” I said, handing him a folder with the list. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna go ahead and get the windows installed, and after that, you’re ready to start ductwork and electrical, and then from there, we’ll get some real walls and floors up. That’s assuming we pass all inspections, which I don’t see why we wouldn’t.”
Nixon’s eyebrows shot up. “For real? Damn, this has moved faster than projected, hasn’t it? You’ve been on it.”
“Did you have doubts?”
He cringed. “I mean, for a second there, you – nah, man. I’m playing with you. You’ve been handling your business, seriously. Old Tony would probably have a big grin on his face about this, you know?”
I nodded. “I can only hope.”
“So… what are we looking at now, time wise?” Nix asked, leaning against the metal counter. “I told Charlie eighteen months, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to be that long.”
I closed my folder, then crossed my arms. “Ballpark? You can probably have an opening night six to eight months from now. So, you and Charlie are gonna have to stop putting off choosing the new appliances and…new appliances… and appliances…”
Goddamn.
A familiar face caught my eye through the window, and I stepped a little closer, looking to see Fallon approaching Charlie. The guy Charlie had been talking to was gone, and Fallon pulled Charlie into a hug before laying a gentle hand on her stomach.
Today, Fallon was in jeans she had to have poured herself into, high-heeled boots that accentuated her long legs, and a blazer that hung long in the front, but was cut shorter in the back, in a shape that perfectly framed her ass.
Again, goddamn.
“But I have it bad?” Nix asked, chuckling as he clapped a hand on my shoulder, then leaned to look out the window with me. “It looks like you’ve got it bad for Ms. Perkins.”
I shook my head. “Nah, man. It’s not even like that.”
“You a damn lie, Sean.” Nixon let out a roar of laughter that I couldn’t help but join in.
“Alright, alright. Maybe so. I mean… Fallon is bad as hell, no joke.”
He nodded. “True. So what’s up with y’all? You left Urban Grind with her that night two weeks ago, and since then y’all have been giving each other the eye whenever you’re around.”
I shook my head. “I’m telling you man, nothing. She just got out of something serious. Not ready to get back out there, and I can’t say I blame her.”
Nixon laughed. “Oh, sure, she’s not ready. You sure it’s not because of what happened between you and your ex? I keep telling you, you’re gonna have to let that shit go.”
“Let what shit go? You act like I’m out here being bitter or something.”
“That’s not what I said though. Nobody said shit about being bitter, but I also can’t say shit about you getting any ass either. And don’t bother trying to deny that shit, you’re too uptight to be getting any.”
I sucked my teeth. “Motherfucka what? I’m not uptight!”
“You’re not uptight? Can we talk about the building Nixon, I’m sure Charlie is wearing her chastity belt and explaining that you have the only key to that dude trying to talk to her, don’t worry, what about the building,” he said, in a nerdy voice that was… shit, was that supposed to be me? “Any other time, you would’ve been helping me plot on old boy. You would’ve been outside asking him if he needed something,” Nixon laughed, tossing his head back. “But seriously dude, hear me out. I know losing your Pops hit you hard, and I get it. But it’s been what, a year since he passed? A year and a half since your divorce? You need a girl.”
I shook my head. “What, so I can be like you? Nix, your ass swore up and down you’d never get married, and Charlie was back for what… two months before you planted the seed? And you’ve been back from your honeymoon for what, two days?”
“It’s been like a month, stop playing.”
“Two days, a month, whatever. The point is, you got married, and have two babies on the way. Carter got engaged, and has a baby on the way. Roman is married and on his second kid. Y’all motherfuckas settled down, and now all of a sudden you wanna spread it. I thought this was some shit women did?”
Nixon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. Maybe if you had a woman, you’d know.”
“Man, whatever,” I laughed, as I watched Fallon bid Charlie goodbye.
“It’s not whatever. Stop playing around and let that woman change your life.”
I shook my head again. “She’s not ready, I said that.”
“But you’re feeling her enough that you haven’t flat out denied anything, or told me to mind my business, so… you know what you’ve gotta do, right?”
“Nah, what’s that?” I turned away from the window to face Nix, who was smiling, bu
t I knew he was serious.
“Make sure your ass is there when she gets ready.”
Seven
I walked into my house from a postponed trip to the airport, kicked off my shoes, and dropped my bags off by the door. I was supposed to be on my way to Chicago to see my parents, but a spur of the moment “girls’ weekend” in Vegas for my mom and her friends had canceled those plans. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little annoyed, because I’d worked my schedule around the Chicago trip. But, one of those friends had just been declared “in remission” from breast cancer, so I wouldn’t begrudge my mother the opportunity to celebrate.
I went upstairs to change into my lounge clothes of choice – panties and a lightweight tee shirt – adjusted the thermostat to a comfortable level, and then wandered down the stairs. I wasn’t even going to wonder yet what I was going to do with myself now that my weekend was free. I was just going to enjoy it.
Because I’d been so busy in the week leading up to the trip, I’d barely seen what kind of progress had been able to make in the house. I was stuck in a cycle of getting up early, work like a maniac until late, sleep, then do it again. I hadn’t really been checking in like I usually did, but now that I had the chance… I realized Sean was kind of a bad ass.
Barely two weeks after I’d told him I wanted to completely reconfigure my kitchen, it was almost done. The wall I’d wanted down had been taken out, my brand new mahogany cabinets were partially installed, and the granite I hadn’t really wanted at first for my counters looked beautiful. I’d turned my nose up at the sand-colored stone, heavily streaked with strands of gold and brown and black, but just like Sean had insisted, it was perfect.
I tried not to wonder too hard about if it meant anything that I was letting him make decisions about my house. After all, even if I didn’t want to strip him naked and climb in his lap, he was my contractor. He was still someone I would look to for suggestions, depend on for his expertise. So the fact that I’d spent yesterday basking in his company, ostensibly choosing tile and fixtures for my master bathroom, didn’t mean anything.
Right?
The plywood subfloor was rough under my bare feet as I carefully made my way around the kitchen, running my hands over the smooth countertops. I was excited to have this finished – to have all of it done, the floors, the backsplash, to have my appliances put in. The prospect of cooking in this beautiful new space made my heart flutter.
Maybe… I could make my grandmother’s pecan pie for Sean. It was how she’d “gotten” my granddaddy, and how my mother had “gotten” my father. But, wait a minute… why was I thinking about “getting” Sean?
Shaking my head, I started out of the kitchen, then noticed that near the back wall of the large space, a few of the travertine floor tiles were already down. A little flash of excitement sparked in my chest, and I walked back over to where the materials were set up.
There was a stack of tiles right there.
There was a premixed bucket of mastic – the glue for the tiles – right there.
There was a trowel right there.
So… I found myself right there.
I settled into a seat on the floor, not caring that I was getting myself dusty. It took a few tries and a firm grip, but I peeled the top of the bucket of mastic off and tossed it aside… and then immediately wished I hadn’t. I started coughing as the horrible chemical smell filled my nostrils and mouth, making my eyes water.
Squinting, I felt around for the top of the bucket, and was slamming it back on when I heard the back door open, followed shortly by the sound of heavy boots.
“Fallon?! What the hell are you doing?”
Shit.
I turned to see Sean standing in the doorway, his dark gray ribbed tank top soaked in sweat. It wasn’t quite night yet, and the deep golden light of the sun glistened against his arms. He looked… damn he looked good, and here I was on the dusty floor, eyes watering, in a faded tee shirt and panties.
Damn, damn, damn.
Before I could respond, Sean had peeled off the heavy work gloves he wore and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The next moment, he was in front of me, kneeling down, and the moment after that, he’d pulled me up from the floor.
“These floors are still rough, Fallon. You’re gonna end up with an ass full of splint—wait, and you don’t even have on shoes? Work zone, remember? Safety first.”
I still hadn’t said anything, because I was halfway in shock, halfway pissed that he was scolding me like a child, and then he picked me up. Like… feet off the floor, picked me up. Like, draped in his arms like he was carrying me over the threshold picked me up.
“Put me down!” I shrieked, struggling against him. “I’m not a goddamn kid!”
He chuckled as he carried me across the kitchen floor. “Nobody said you were, but I can’t have you getting hurt in here.”
“Put me down,” I growled, squirming harder, then settling for a hard pinch on the vulnerable spot on the inside of his elbow.
“Shit, Fallon!” He stopped, and with a scowl, did exactly what I’d asked him to do. He put me down, and I stepped away from him… and right onto a sharp, exposed edge of the plywood floor.
“Holy shit,” I said, in a voice somewhere between a squeal and a high-pitched whisper as I snatched my foot away from the plank. In what seemed like no time, blood was everywhere, and Sean grabbed me around the waist again.
“Stop hopping around and let me see it.”
Before I found a protest, he’d picked me up again, this time placing me down on the counter, and putting my feet in my huge copper farmhouse sink. He turned on a few more lights, then came back to where I was with a short stepladder, which he sat on in front of me.
“You know this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone all… macho-prison warden on me, don’t you?” I asked, as he pulled up the sprayer to wash the dust and blood from my feet.
He looked up at me with a scowl. “This is why I didn’t want you in here, especially with bare feet. I’m sorry if my tone was out of line, but seriously Fallon… you’ve gotta get that TV magic out of your head. Work sites – and that’s what certain areas of your house are right now – are dangerous. I didn’t mean to treat you like a kid. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
He stopped cleaning my foot to walk across the kitchen, where he rustled through a pile of materials until he came up with a white plastic box. He brought it with him to the sink, and once he’d sat down again, opened it to reveal a large first aid kit.
“Let me see,” he said, in a much less rough tone than before, gesturing toward my foot. I lifted it from the sink and he grabbed it, raising it in the air to see. He pulled a pair of tweezers from the box, and occasionally stopping to wash my feet again, he proceeded to remove several long splinters from the open gash in my foot.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I said, then pulled my lip between my teeth as he paused to look up at me. “I just don’t like being scolded, or treated like a little kid – even if I’m acting like one. I get enough of that from my actual parents.”
He chuckled, and then shook his head as he turned his attention back to my foot. “Duly noted.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
Sean dropped the tweezers into the sink, then washed me off again before pulling a bottle of peroxide from the kit. “Well, I thought you were going to be in Chicago for the weekend. I was outside, pulling those rotted out boards from your deck. I was going to work on it while you were gone, have it ready when you got back.”
“So… you wanted to surprise me.” A warm feeling swept over my chest with that revelation. Just last week, I’d lamented the fact that I couldn’t go and sit outside for my morning tea because the deck wasn’t safe. And now he… “Thank you,” I said, a little softer than intended. His head was down, tending to my injury, but I could tell his mouth was turned into a smile.
“It’s no big deal,” he said, shrugging before he lo
oked up to meet my eyes.
“It is to me.”
It actually highlighted something that had long frustrated me with Ray when we were together. He was always good for an expensive surprise gift, but gestures that required real thought, things that actually meant something to me… he’d been deficient.
Sean smiled at me, and just like usual, it caused that tightening in the pit of my belly. “In that case, you’re very welcome.” I flinched when he sprayed my foot with antibacterial spray, then topped with antibacterial ointment before he bandaged it with gauze and tape. “Alright. You’re taken care of, for tonight at least. You’ll probably want to have a doctor look at it too, just in case.”
I nodded. “Thank you for taking care of me even though I was being a bitch.”
“I wouldn’t quite it say it like that,” he laughed.
I gave him a playful roll of my eyes as I swung my feet out of the sink. “Because you’re trying to be a gentleman. But it’s okay, I know I can… react badly, sometimes. Usually when I’m tired, or stressed, the filter just disappears.”
“So you’ve been plenty tired, and plenty stressed around me, huh? Cause this is the fourth time in as many weeks that I’ve caught a verbal beat down.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, covering my face with my hands. “I’m sorry,” I whined, and a second later, I felt his warm palms around my wrists, uncovering my face.
“Chill, Fallon.” His eyes were warm, and glittering with amusement when I looked up to meet his gaze. “We’ve been at odds a little bit, yeah, but it always turns out fine, right?”
I smiled. “Right.”
“Aiight then,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “Nobody’s tripping. We’re good. And… not that I don’t appreciate seeing your pretty face, but what are you doing here? What happened to Chicago?”
“My mother and her home girls went to Vegas. You know Charlie and Viv’s moms?”
He nodded. “Yeah, the twins.”
The Way Love Goes (Serendipitous Love Book 4) Page 7