A Bluewater Bay Collection

by Witt, L. A.

  Which was great. He was getting all kinds of pats on the back from the higher-ups for finding solutions that kept production delays to a minimum and didn’t cost a ton of money to implement. Good for him.

  For this sore, sleep-deprived grip, his solutions were not quite as simple as they looked on paper. Not when we couldn’t use our existing indoor lighting rigs because we were suddenly shooting outdoors, which meant an entirely different setup. The lights themselves were the electricians’ problem, but my department was responsible for the stands and supports, and we hadn’t budgeted time or bodies for constructing a whole new rig on a moment’s notice for this episode. Plus we had to dismantle a camera dolly that was supposed to be a semipermanent fixture. We had portable dollies that were easier to put up and take down, but they were all in use, aside from one that had been irreparably damaged when a branch had snapped off that damn tree. With a tight schedule, we had to take what we could get, and that meant using the rig from Two.

  “So help me, God,” Dan muttered as we loaded gear into the truck to head to the location, “if he wants a crane-mounted camera, I may have to run him over.”

  I laughed. “I checked the script. There is nothing in here that could possibly warrant a crane mount.”

  He glared at me. “Don’t you dare jinx us, Andrews.”

  “I’m just saying. There’s—”

  “Yeah, yeah. But Eric’s one of those artsy-ass directors who loves wide shots. All we need is for him to get it up his ass that his wide shot needs to happen from the sky, and we’re putting up a goddamned crane.”

  I scowled. Totally what we needed. “Let’s hope not. I’d just as soon not deal with a crane while the ground is still this wet.”

  Dan groaned. “Aww, fuck.”

  “Yeah.” I paused. “And, you know what, now that I think about it, I’m going to grab some more boards to stabilize the dolly. If the ground out there is as soft as it is here, the camera’s going to sink on the first take.”

  “What a shame,” he muttered.

  I chuckled and went to get some more boards. On the way, I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders. My hips still ached furiously and loading gear into the truck hadn’t helped. Clearly I needed to get out and get laid more often so my body would limber up and get used to it.

  I had no complaints though. Even the pain was pleasant in its own way. A tender reminder of a long overdue roll in the hay. With a stranger. Apparently this whole jumping-into-bed-with-someone-on-the-first-not-even-really-a-date thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  And, hell, physical reminders or not, I didn’t see me getting Aaron out of my head anytime soon. It had been way too long since someone had rocked my world in bed like that, and it had been even longer since someone had been that obviously eager to get me into his bed in the first place. I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t want a hell of a lot more. Like now.

  Not with another stranger, though. With Aaron.

  Because if I hooked up with someone else, the night could be a disappointment. With Aaron, I knew I was in for a wild ride. That was it. That was the only reason I wanted to do it again with him instead of finding another total stranger. Well, that and because making that initial connection with someone was the hardest part, and because I still didn’t quite know what I was doing, and because . . . he is so fucking hot.

  Hooking up tonight was probably out of the question, though. I’d be dead on my feet at work if I chanced another late night, and even if we had a quickie or something, I was sore from last night.

  But I still wanted to see him. All through my shift, that night, and well into the next day, he was there on my brain like a relentless craving. Even while I was cold and muddy, putting up rigs and tripods and dollies in weather that belonged in fucking Seattle, there was a part of my mind that would not let go of Aaron. In fact, he became a beacon of sanity. Something to get me through this miserable day. I was still too sore to promise anything overly physical, and would be even more so after today, but did that mean I couldn’t see him?

  Hell, what do I have to lose?

  So finally, when I had a few minutes to myself while the whole damn crew waited for Eric to review some of this morning’s footage, I broke down and sent Aaron a text.

  Want to actually get drinks or dinner tonight?

  As soon as the message was gone, I cringed. What was I thinking? His Grindr profile made it pretty clear he was looking for sex. No strings, right? And that was exactly what we’d had. He probably wasn’t interested in an insecure single dad who worked crazy hours and sometimes wanted to collapse into bed without even thinking about sex. Maybe we could get away with a few nights between the sheets, but dating? Not a chance. I was kidding myself if I thought there was anything stronger going on here than some serious lust. Especially this early in the game.

  On the other hand, what was wrong with riding that lust as far as it would take us? So what if I’d never done anything casual before? Now was as good a time as any to break out of my serial monogamy rut and play the field, starting with the man who’d left my hips feeling like they weren’t quite attached anymore.

  That thought gave me pause. Playing the field. That did have a certain appeal, didn’t it?

  Question was, would Aaron be interested in a rematch, or was he one of those guys who thought twice was too much commitment? And did we only get to hook up or could we grab drinks? I wasn’t sure what the protocol was here, but grabbing a couple of beers wasn’t exactly moving in together. I liked the guy enough already that I wasn’t going to say no to a conversation now and then. That didn’t mean I was pushing for too much, did it? Was there some rule that we couldn’t meet for drinks, and then hook up later when we both had time to fuck each other into the mattress?

  I shivered at the thought. Oh yeah. I definitely wanted to see him again.

  And it must’ve been mutual, because a few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

  I’m free after 7. 7:30?

  Can we make it 9? I replied. Not sure I’ll be out of here before 8.

  9 works.

  Fuck yes. A few more hours, and I could see him and—

  The kids. What about the kids?

  Shit.

  I tapped my nails on my phone case. I could always call Leo.

  No. I didn’t want to take advantage of him. I didn’t want him resenting the kids because I dumped them off on him at every opportunity. I felt guilty enough leaving them once this week.

  But, goddamn, I needed to get out. Two nights out in the same week weren’t the end of the world, especially when I couldn’t remember the last evening I’d spent away from them for anything but work, aside from when Leo asked to take them out. And I’d spent most of those nights flailing because I didn’t know what to do with myself without my kids.

  That gave me some serious pause. Shit, I’d forgotten how to be anything besides a dad. I really did need to get out and be a little wild for a change.

  “Hey, Andrews.” Dan’s voice turned me around. He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Eric’s not happy with the reel. We gotta reset everything.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course we did.

  I quickly texted Aaron, Sounds good—see you tonight.

  Though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how I’d handle things with the kids, I’d make it happen. I needed this even more than I’d realized before, so I’d make it happen somehow.

  Assuming I got out of here at a decent hour, of course.

  So I pocketed my phone and followed Dan.

  Chapter 6

  Aaron

  Reese glared under the hood of a black PT Cruiser and swore as only a mechanic raised by an ex-Sailor could.

  I stepped around the front of the car. “That bad, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.” She turned her head. “Now I get to call this guy and tell him his timing belt snapped and the engine’s FUBAR.”

  I grimaced. “Isn’t that the guy who towed in for a second opinion?”
r />   “Yep. He thought Clarke’s Auto Repair was trying to rip him off.” She slammed the hood. “He’s not going to be happy.”

  “Well.” I shrugged. “Maybe he should’ve had the timing belt changed two damn years ago like we told him to.”

  She blew a few blonde strands out of her face. “I’ll let you tell him that.”

  “I can call him if you—”

  “I got it,” she said quickly. “He won’t be happy, but I’ve got it.”

  I hesitated. The owner was a manager down at the credit union in town, and he was an utter dick. A four-figure estimate was not going to bring out his cheerful side.

  Reese must’ve seen my uncertainty, because she lifted her chin and looked me right in the eye. “I’ve got it, Aaron.”

  “All right. All right.” I took a step back. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

  “I know. I’ll be fine.”

  “Just don’t kill him, all right?” I winked. “Blood is a bitch to get out of concrete.”

  She laughed. “No promises.”

  “Reese—”

  “Okay, fine.” She huffed and picked up one of the portable phones.

  While she handled calling the PT Cruiser’s owner, I filled up my ever-present coffee mug and went back into my office to catch up on some admin work.

  As I sat down, my phone caught my eye, and I checked to see if Shane had texted me again. He hadn’t, which wasn’t a huge surprise—he’d said they were busy as hell at the set today.

  Besides, we’d already gone back and forth quite a bit. We’d set up another meeting. One that sounded dangerously similar to a date.

  I stared at our conversation for a moment. Had I really agreed to this? To meet up tonight for dinner and not just another roll in the hay?

  Second dates were risky. Especially when it sounded like there was a lot of date and not a lot of hookup on the agenda. On the other hand, dates sometimes turned into hookups, so maybe we were playing it by ear. Seeing how we both felt after a long day rather than committing to swinging from the chandeliers. Given some of the aches and pains that existed even when I hadn’t fucked him senseless the night before, I could go with that. And I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to land in bed with Shane again, as long as that was all we were doing.

  Sighing, I pushed my phone aside. I’d see how it went. In the meantime, this stack of work orders wouldn’t process itself. Though with as distracted as I was by the gorgeous man I was seeing tonight, I’d be lucky if I made any progress.

  An hour later, shouting in the garage pulled my attention away from ordering parts for a Chevy S10 engine rebuild. I swore under my breath. I didn’t have to come out of the office to know the PT Cruiser’s owner had arrived, but I sure as shit wasn’t staying in here while he screamed at one of my people like that.

  I stepped out of the office. Sure enough, the asshole was there, and he was heated. He was easily a head and a half taller than Reese—and probably had a hundred pounds on her—but she stood there with her arms folded across her coveralls, eyeing him coolly like she was waiting for the right moment to tear his face off. Left to her own devices, that was a possibility.

  I crossed the garage. “What’s going on here?”

  Reese didn’t budge, but the customer’s head snapped toward me. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the owner of this garage.” I halted, folding my arms much like Reese had. “You want to tell me why you’re screaming at my mechanic?”

  “I’ll tell you why!” Stabbing a finger at Reese, he turned to me. “This bitch is trying to tell me—”

  I put up a hand. “I’m gonna have to stop you right there.”

  He blinked.

  “You don’t want to pay what’s on the estimate?” I growled. “Fine. Take the car and get out of my shop. But don’t you come in here and start abusing my people because you don’t like what they have to say.”

  “What?” he sputtered. “But this . . . I mean . . .” He gestured sharply at Reese. “What the hell does she know anyway?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Considering she’s worked here longer than I have, I’d say she knows more than you and me combined.”

  He gestured wildly again, this time enough to make her flinch, and I was done.

  I stepped in between them and got right in his face. He had several inches on me, but he backed down anyway, and I snarled, “Here’s the deal, sir. At the end of the day, this car isn’t going to be drivable without a new engine. You could’ve replaced the timing belt when we recommended it, but you didn’t, and it snapped. Unfortunately for you, a snapped timing belt is like a hand grenade going off.” I shrugged. “So it’s up to you—either you scrap the car, or you repair it according to the specifications she put on your estimate.” I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes. “Your call. But you raise your voice at one of my people again, or you even think about lifting a hand to one of them, and that bill will be the least of your problems. Am I clear, Mr. Swanson?”

  He gulped.

  “Am I clear?”

  “Uh.” He didn’t look at either of us, and finally muttered, “Where do I sign?”

  “That’s what I thought.” I turned to Reese. “You have the estimate?”

  Her expression was cold, but she handed me the paperwork without a word, along with a pen. After the asshole had signed off on the work order, I gave it back to her, and he turned to go.

  “Hey,” I said. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

  He eyed me. “What?”

  I nodded toward Reese and lifted my eyebrows.

  He glanced back and forth between us. Finally, he made the connection and sighed heavily, like a busted kid. To Reese, he said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

  She nodded but said nothing.

  After he’d gone, I faced her. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” She released her breath and loosened her arms. “I’m good.” She met my gaze, jaw tight. “I had that handled.” Then she brushed past me and stalked off.

  I exhaled. It didn’t matter how many times shit like this happened. I couldn’t stand by and watch, and she got pissed off at me when I intervened. Or, rather, she got pissed that she needed the intervention. That customers only got that combative with her and we all knew why. Most customers wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her, but whenever one got in her face like that, there was always a chance. She knew it, we knew it, and no one in the garage wanted to take the risk that this would be the customer who finally went beyond trying to intimidate her. Not in my garage. Not on my watch.

  She was pissed off and probably going outside for a cigarette. I didn’t go after her. When she was ready to talk this out, she’d come to me. She wouldn’t take it well if I approached her, so for the moment, I went back to my office. There, I dropped into my desk chair and kept sifting through all the admin work, but my mind was elsewhere. I was still on edge after that dispute in the garage. The guy could leave a shit review online or take all his future business elsewhere or even come at me with a lawyer—I didn’t care. I had witnesses who’d back me up in a heartbeat, and I didn’t give two shits if I added to my reputation for refusing to say the customer was always right even after they started abusing my people. This kind of thing happened more often than any of us liked to think about, so it was nothing new.

  I just hated the tension between me and Reese afterward. Between her and Shane, my focus was being pulled in two very different directions. Which meant not a lot of work was getting done. I was hung up on how things had played out with Reese.

  Five minutes later, the pendulum swung to Shane. I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment when we’d landed in bed and he’d shifted gears. One minute, he was turned on and ready to go, and the next . . . Jesus, he was an animal. And, man, if he was that aggressive on the bottom, what would he be like on top? If he topped the way he bottomed, he’d probably kill us both, and I’d die with one hell of a smile on my face.

  Ten
minutes after that, I was back to worrying about Reese.

  I dropped my pen and scrubbed both hands over my face.

  Things with her would be settled soon. One way or the other, we’d clear the air and be okay.

  But how long before I stopped sweating over how much space Shane was occupying in my head? Clearly I needed to figure out what the hell he wanted out of this and soon. Starting tonight, right? With dinner and whatever we did after—

  My office door opened.

  The pendulum swung back the other way.

  “Hey,” I said as Reese stepped in.

  “Hey.” She dropped a completed work order on my desk. “Mrs. Robertson finally picked up that Toyota.”

  “About time.”

  “We’ll have to plant some new grass where it was parked.” She shifted her weight. “Nothing but a big old bare spot now.”

  “Eh.” I shrugged. “Gravel works. Glad the car’s gone, though.”

  “Yeah. Same.”

  Our eyes met. But she quickly dropped her gaze and rocked from her heels to the balls of her feet. “Um . . . thanks. For earlier. I’m sorry I kind of . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said quietly. “I know you had it handled, but what kind of boss would I be if I just let him tear into you like that?” I didn’t mention the fact that he was twice her size. She already hated being a relatively petite woman in a male-dominated field. Few things irked her more than needing a man—especially one like me who wasn’t even that tall—to intervene.

  “Well.” She swallowed and managed a subtle laugh. “I guess it’s good you stepped in when you did. If you hadn’t, he’d have had a tire iron so far up his ass he’d need his dentist to remove it.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s also what I was afraid of. My liability insurance only goes so far.”

  Reese laughed with a tiny bit more feeling. “I know. And I just . . .” She blew out a breath. “Fucking hate needing a guy to come to my rescue, you know?”