by Jayne Blue
“Sounds good,” Bobby said, giving me a half-assed salute. I had my whole crew working demo in this house today. It would be cathartic as hell. The house shook from the first hammer blows in the kitchen. I had Ryan and the rest of the crew down there ripping out kitchen cabinets. As Bobby egged me on, I went to the wall separating the master bedroom and the first-floor bathroom. Then I raised the sledgehammer and smashed a hole in the wall. As the impact vibrated through my shoulders, my head began to clear.
“Oh yeah,” I yelled. “I love demo day.”
Each hammer blow helped. Plaster fell all around me exposing the wooden skeleton of the wall behind it. As more space opened up, the vision in my head became more real. This space would be beautiful. The natural light coming from the west windows made plaster particles spin like fairy dust.
My shoulders ached from exertion and sweat poured down my back. It was good, hard work. For me, it was as soul-cleansing as church. This was my religion. Breaking away barriers to reveal something better beneath it. Hours passed like minutes until finally I had nothing but studs in front of me.
Panting, I wiped my brow with my gloved hand and stood back. Laughter rose from the basement as my crew set to work on what would be the third bathroom down there. I stepped through the debris and pulled off the last loose bits of plaster. The floor creaked. As I pulled away the remnants of the old baseboards, something caught my eye.
“What treasures did you leave for me today?” I said to the air. I reached into the open space. A hole had opened up in the floor and I could see clear through to the kitchen. Bobby was down there, pulling off the last of the cabinets.
I felt around in the hole in the floor. It was amazing the kind of things we’d find. At a house on Beckham Street last year, Ryan had found an unopened six-pack of Billy Beer behind a bathroom wall. The year before that, I’d nearly had a heart attack when I punched a hole in a wall on a Mulberry Street project and found a face staring back at me. It had been a life-sized porcelain doll. Why the hell anyone had buried it behind drywall, I’ll never know. Today, my find was equally odd. The object was wrapped in dirty, rust-covered rags that may have been white at some point. As I peeled back the stiff fabric, I found a pair of praying hands. They were metal, pewter maybe. I couldn’t be sure, but from the weight of it, I guessed this had been a bookend or something. I wrapped the cloth back around it and set it aside. Later, I’d see if I could find a marking or something on the tiny statue. You never knew when something like that might be a collectible.
“Hey, boss!” Ryan said, seeing movement in the ceiling above him. He gave me a wave and I laughed.
“Anything good down there?” I yelled.
“Nah,” he said. “Some refrigerator magnets and a couple of mason jars.”
“Damn,” I yelled back. “Looks like we gotta keep working for a living.”
The light was fading. I’d forgotten to break for lunch. I was caked with sweat and covered with plaster dust, but I felt good, rejuvenated. Running my hands along the eastern wall, I closed my eyes and imagined this room as I wanted it. The floors were solid oak. They would gleam once I was done with them. I wanted something bright and colorful in the bathroom.
A second vision snapped into my mind as I came to the northern window, where I wanted to extend the balcony. My thoughts drifted to Chase and what had happened in this very house. Hell, it might have happened in this very room, for all I knew. The newspaper article about Rochelle Raines’s murder hadn’t been heavy on details.
A chill ran through me as I ran my fingers along the wall. I stepped into the hallway. There were two bedrooms on either side. Which had been Chase’s? Had he been happy here before his world fell apart? I wanted to think he had been.
“Chase,” I whispered as I pressed my back against the wall and closed my eyes. Smashing wood and plaster had helped me push him out of my mind, but it hadn’t lasted. I could still feel his lips on mine. Goosebumps covered me as I remembered how full he’d made me.
I still wanted him. It was as if he had some hold on this house too. It was part of him. I’d seen it in his eyes the day I met him. He was so strong, so virile, but there was a broken little boy inside of him too.
“What happened to you that day, baby?” I whispered to the walls. I wanted to know, but feared the truth might tear me apart.
“You mind if we call it a day?” Bobby poked his head around the corner. He was covered in plaster dust and sweat too. I pulled my mask over my head and tossed it on the ground.
“What time is it?”
“Almost six. You’ve been busy,” he said, walking past me into the master bedroom.
“We should finish demo tomorrow if we’re lucky,” I said. “I want to get the cleanup crew in here by Monday. I’m looking for a four-week turnaround on this one.”
Bobby whistled. “Hardcore. I think we can make it.”
“Good,” I said, slapping him on the back. “And yes. Call it a day. We’ll get an earlier start in the morning. You don’t mind working Sunday, do you?”
“You know we don’t,” he said. I tousled Bobby’s hair. He was such a good kid who had a shitheel of a family. His father had been in and out of jail his entire life. If I hadn’t plucked him out of his machine shop class his senior year, Bobby might have joined him.
He yelled down to the rest of the crew. “You want us to wait for you?” he called back.
“Nope,” I answered. “I’m just gonna do a walk-through while the space is empty. I think I’ve got my design plan set, but there are a few things I want to be sure of.”
“Got it,” he answered. “See you in the morning.”
As Bobby opened the front door, my heart stood still. He looked back, a smile breaking wide. “You’ve got company, boss,” he said. I could already see it. Chase’s Harley was parked in the driveway.
The fading sun lit his hair gold as I stood in the doorway. I could see my reflection in his mirrored sunglasses as I stepped off the porch. Bobby gave Chase a quick wave as he bounded past him and hopped into the passenger side of one of the trucks. Ryan was in the driver’s seat. He shot me a questioning look. I smoothed back my hair and waved them off.
I was a mess. A wreck inside and out. I had a day’s worth of grime and sweat coating every inch of me. I wore beat-up work boots and a denim overall with the legs cut off. They had fourteen kinds of paint spattered all over them.
Ryan pulled away from the curb and gave me one last wave as he left me alone with Chase Cutter. He swung his leg off the bike and came toward me, tucking his sunglasses into his pocket. I was sweating my brains out in the Texas heat, but it didn’t seem to affect Chase at all. It was as if he were made for this climate with his sun-kissed hair and tanned skin. With my red hair, I was prone to burn.
Chase stopped a foot away from me. We were eye to eye as I stood on the top step of the porch. He reached for me, picking a chunk of plaster out of my hair and flicking it into the lawn.
“Would you like to see it?” I asked.
Chase’s smile faltered until he realized my meaning. He looked up at the house. “You think there’s something worth saving here?”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat. The question seemed to hold more than one meaning. I realized at that moment that coming back here cost Chase something. And he’d done it for me.
“You’d be surprised,” I said. I turned and stepped back into the foyer, beckoning Chase to follow. He hesitated for a beat, then came up the porch.
The place was barely recognizable from what it had been just a few short days ago. There was nothing left of the kitchen. The crew had taken out all the cabinets and appliances leaving scarred, bare walls. We’d stripped five layers of flooring, taking it down to the plywood subfloor.
“I’d hoped we’d find some hardwood under there,” I said, stepping over the debris. Chase followed.
“I don’t remember there ever being any. But I lived here in the eighties and nineties.”
“
Right,” I said. “I looked it up. This place was built in 1946. Did you know that? A lot of these bi-levels were. They were bought by people coming home from the war wanting to start new lives.”
Chase let out a bitter laugh. “They were selling hope on Hutchins Street. Hard to believe.”
I couldn’t bear to look in his eyes. But I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what he saw when he looked down those bare hallways. I saw potential. He probably saw the stuff of his nightmares.
“That’s what I want for this place,” I said. “Hope. Not just Hutchins Street.”
He followed me down the hall, running his hands along the walls. He stopped when we came to the bathroom I’d gutted today. From there, he could see straight into what was left of the master bedroom.
“You changed it,” he said, his voice catching.
“I always do,” I said. “But I like to leave the original character if I can. I just want to improve on it. Balcony off the back. Open up the floor plan.”
He stopped at the threshold of the bedroom. It was a nearly imperceptible change in his posture, but I saw it. Chase would not or could not go any further into the house.
“Why are you here, Chase?” I asked.
His smile kindled something dark inside of me. He’d affected me like that from the very first moment. It was as if my body were tuned to his on some preternatural level. I ached for him, plain and simple. It wasn’t sensible. It wasn’t rational. It was primal and I craved it.
“I don’t know, Ariel,” he answered. “And that’s the God’s honest truth. Something about this house keeps drawing me back. At least, that’s what I thought it was. Now I’m not so sure.”
He took a step toward me, that wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. God. I was a hot mess. I stunk. Yet I knew I’d have a hard time stopping myself if Chase pulled me against him again.
“Now what do you think it is?” Oh, I knew his answer. His eyes danced with it. Still, when the word slipped past those luscious, full lips, my knees went weak.
“You,” he said.
“You got a thing for sweat-caked, grimy women who know how to swing a hammer?”
Chase gave me a full, million-watt smile. “No. Just one.”
“Chase …”
“You called me,” he said.
“To apologize.” I took a step back. “I wasn’t myself last night. And I was kind of a bitch to you. And to tell you not to worry that I was expecting anything else from you.”
“I think you were more yourself last night than you’ve been in a while. I think you don’t let your guard down very often and you did with me. I liked it.”
I took another step back and Chase advanced. God, he moved with the grace of a jungle cat. “Chase.”
“Ariel.”
I stopped. I’d reached the living room again. Chase stopped too. The air between us seemed charged. I let out a breath.
“I barely know you. Last night was ... well ... unique. One-night stands aren’t really my style.”
Chase leaned against the wall. “Who said it was a one-night stand?”
He took my breath away. He had me literally speechless. Desire thrummed through me and I felt certain he could sense it through all the dust and grime covering me.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re right about something. You barely know me. And I barely know you. I want to change that, Ariel. That’s why I’m here. Not because of this fucking house. You could tear it to the ground and I’d be okay with that. Hell, I’ve thought of doing the same thing myself a thousand times over the last twenty years. But I don’t want to talk about this house. Not tonight. I’m tired. It’s been a long day for both of us. Yet somehow, I couldn’t end it without seeing you again. Now, as far as I can tell, you waved off your ride out there unless you’ve got an invisible car parked somewhere. So let me take you home. Or let me take you out.”
My mouth dropped. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“Not usually. So, come on, Ariel. What are you afraid of?”
I clamped my mouth shut. But when Chase held his hand out to mine, I found myself taking it.
Chapter 11
Chase
Having Ariel on the back of my Harley was becoming as natural as breathing. I loved the feel of her thighs pressed against my back. She moved with me, leaning into the curves and every tiny correction I made. If she gave me a chance, I’d take her somewhere far away tonight. Somewhere I could keep her all to myself. For now though, I just got to take her home.
I pulled into her driveway on Mulberry Street. When I came here last night, it had been full dark. Now the sun hadn’t completely set. The place was beautiful. Perfect. Just like her. It was one of the older ones in this part of town. If my old place had been built in the forties, Ariel’s had probably been here twenty or thirty years before that. She’d taken care to restore the brick exterior and used wood for the windows. It gave the place back its original charm.
She climbed off the back of the bike and took a step back. I could see her wheels turning as she decided whether to let me in or just wave me off. More than anything, I wanted to wrap my arm around her waist and plant a kiss on her that would curl her toes. Already I knew her body. I knew what made her gasp. My dick tightened just thinking about it.
“If I let you in, will you behave yourself?” she asked. It was as if she could read my damn mind.
“You sure that’s what you want?” I couldn’t resist. Color came into her cheeks and her eyes flashed with desire. But Ariel held back. She pursed her lips into a tight line. I put my hands up in surrender.
“Yes,” I said, dismounting. “I can be a choirboy when I need to.”
Ariel raised a ruddy brow. “I find that hard to believe. I need a shower. Then we’ll talk.”
She turned and went up the walkway. She’d planted flowers all the way up. Fumbling for her keys, she pushed the door in with her shoulder. I stepped inside. The blush that started in her cheeks moved down to her chest as she turned to face me. Last night, we hadn’t gotten past the foyer. Ariel had gotten so wet so fast for me. I knew if I touched her now, she’d do the same.
“You can hang out in the living room,” she said, pointing through an arched entryway. The first floor was laid out in almost a circle. The living room led into the dining room. A left turn from there took you into the kitchen then straight back here to the foyer again. The stairs to the upper floor came down from the back of the kitchen. I clasped my hands together in mock prayer and bowed toward her.
“You know,” she said. “I didn’t say I’d go anywhere with you tonight.”
Smiling, I went to her. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t. And I’ve got you this far. So go clean up. Though, I gotta admit, I don’t mind you like this either.”
She laughed. “You’re a bad liar, Chase. I stink. Wait here.”
When she turned, her hair flew behind her like a red banner and she disappeared through the kitchen. Her steps fell heavy as she made her way to the second floor. By the sound of it, she was directly above my head. I had the urge to join her when I heard the shower faucet kick on. But we’d play it her way for now. Because this was always my way. I didn’t date. I never cared to get attached to the women in my life. It worked best that way for both of us. And women like Ariel generally didn’t stick around long enough for it to matter.
She was different though. I’d known that from the second I saw her. I wanted to get to know her. I knew it would be worth my while.
As Ariel clanged around upstairs, I walked through her living room. It was cozy, with mismatched furniture that somehow seemed to fit. I realized Ariel herself was like that. She was a woman working in a man’s world in the roughest parts of Port Azrael. She shouldn’t belong, and yet she did.
She had built-in bookshelves beside her stone fireplace in the center of the room. I found myself drawn to the silver-framed pictures perched there. She had one in black and white of this house when it was probably first buil
t. Another picture showed her crew lined up in front of her shop out by the highway. I realized then, they were probably the closest thing to family she had. Just like my crew. We weren’t blood, but we had bonded in ways that went much deeper. Hell, maybe Ariel and I were more alike than either of us realized. But there was one picture among the group that drove that point home even more.
Ariel was young, maybe no more than eleven or twelve. It was a cheesy, department-store photo with a fake farm background. She stood with who I assumed was her father. She looked like him. He had the same fire in his eyes and russet-colored hair. He stood tall, broad, and handsome. Ariel was smiling in it, but she wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead, she’d leaned back to look up at him. It seemed almost like an outtake, an afterthought. And yet, I could see why someone had it printed. Her father stood behind her, strong and protective.
“My mother had just died,” Ariel said. She’d been quiet as a cat and I jumped as she came up on me. She had a wistful look in her eyes as she looked over my shoulder.
“What were you, twelve?” I put the picture back on the shelf.
“Just,” she said. “She was the one who’d set up the appointment at the mall for that one. We almost didn’t go, but I told my father Mom would want us too. She wanted family photos for Christmas that year. So we went.”
“When did you lose him?” I asked, turning to her.
“A little over a year ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I mean, I miss him every day, but I think he’d be proud of me. In fact, I know he would be. I feel him here.” She went to the window and looked out at the street.
“In this house?”
“Yes. But in this neighborhood. I think I’ve told you. It was always his dream to bring some light back into the north side of Port Azrael. He saw beauty in it when no one else could. Now, little by little, I’m proving him right.”
I went to her. I saw beauty in Ariel I wondered if anyone else could. She was tough because she had to be. But she was vulnerable too. I don’t know why she did, but she’d let me see part of that. I slid my hands around her waist and she leaned back, fitting her head to my chest. She smelled warm and clean. Her hair was still damp and she’d tied it back and braided it. She was simple, natural, perfect. I’d never been with a low-maintenance woman before and I liked it. Hell, I loved it. I wondered if I could love her. Would she let me?