Fixer-Upper (3 page)

Dakota held out the brick in his right hand. “This one is slightly longer, but the width is shorter. It’s got a more reddish tone to it.” He held up his left hand. “This one’s shorter in length but slightly taller than the other. There’s a little more brown in the coloring.”

Jake rubbed his forehead. “Go with the redder one.”

“Is that what you want?”

Jake felt like throwing up his hands in frustration. “Yes,” he said. It didn’t matter which brick they got, he still thought they looked the same.

Dakota set the brick in the cart. “We can get multiple types if you’d like. Sometimes mixing and matching looks nice, if done right.”

“All right.”

“Are you sure?”

He’d had it wrong. He was going to strangle Dakota. “I said yes.”

Dakota hummed. “Maybe we should look at stepping-stones first. Give you time to think about what you want.” He turned the cart around and headed off. Jake was left with little choice but to trail behind him.

The stepping-stones were in the unshaded portion of the landscape section, and the hot sun beat down on them as they stood before the large selection. Jake considered randomly selecting stones just to move the process along.

“If it helps we can buy a couple samples of these and bring them back to your house. It might be easier for you to make decisions when you can actually see what it will look like in the right setting,” suggested Dakota.

Jake turned away from staring at the stones. He kind of liked an octagonal shaped one that looked like a mosaic. “Why didn’t we do that the whole time?” he asked. “That would have been so much easier.”

“It’s not what I would normally do. I didn’t think of it till now.” He picked up the stone Jake had been staring at and moved it to the cart that was already brimming with samples. “We just won’t ask for more of what we’ve got in the cart. Do you want to go back and pick a couple other samples so you have a variety?”

That was the last thing Jake wanted to do. “Can we just see how those look, and if I don’t like them I can come back?”

“You’re the boss,” said Dakota, flashing a smile.

Without the pressure of having to pick just one, Jake felt a little less annoyed and tense. He picked several stones and deposited them in the cart. The whole thing took maybe ten minutes, whereas everything else had felt like it took forever.

“Back to the bricks, and then I think we can stop for today,” Dakota reassured him. “You’re almost done.”

Jake did not want to go back to the bricks. He went anyway. By the time he was done picking bricks, going by how many there were in the cart, it looked like he’d chosen one of every type. When he said this to Dakota, Dakota looked from the cart to the shelves and, sounding like he was trying not to laugh, said, “I think you might actually have.”

Dakota pushed the cart to the checkout and waited while Jake paid. It was a fairly pricey bill, and it was just the samples. Jake did not want to know what the bill was going to be like when they had to bulk order whatever he chose.

Dakota had loaded stuff into the cart as the cashier scanned it, so Jake, being closer to the handle bar, pushed the cart once he was done paying. He put his back into it since the cart was so weighed down.

“Do you want me to do it?” asked Dakota as they made their way into the parking lot.

“Nah, I’ve got it.”

And he did have it. He had it right up until they got near the truck, which was parked on a tiny downward slant. He didn’t lose control of the cart, but it did go rolling down the hill kind of fast, forcing him to keep up. And making it rather hard to pull the cart to a stop in time.

He winced as he felt it run right over Dakota’s foot as he turned away from opening the bed of the truck.

Dakota’s face leached of color, but he didn’t make one sound. He did reach out and grab the cart, though, forcing it to an abrupt halt. His teeth gritted. His long lashes brushed his colorless cheeks as he closed his eyes.

“I broke your foot, didn’t I?” asked Jake, feeling sick. “I can drive you to the hospital.”

“You didn’t break my foot,” gritted out Dakota.

“You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“It’ll pass.”

Jake shifted from foot to foot, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him. “Why don’t you sit in the truck, and I’ll put this stuff in the back?”

Dakota limped his way around the side of his truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, all without speaking.

The lack of an argument somehow made Jake feel even worse. He put the samples in the bed of the truck, all the while wondering how he was going to convince Dakota to let him drive.

Dakota would probably be terrified Jake was going to wreck his truck. He thought, given his luck around Dakota, it was a very real possibility.

FIRST AND
foremost, Jake had always been an intelligent man. He was smart, and he was likable. At least that’s what he’d been told. Jake did not currently feel smart or likable. In fact he was 100 percent sure Dakota thought he was the most incompetent man to ever cross his path. With every day that passed, the conviction only grew. Jake was making a mess of things in a truly spectacular fashion.

It had taken some deep thought, but Jake had determined that the only explanation for this surge of stupidity was that he’d developed a bit of a crush. Just a tiny one. Dakota was attractive and capable, and he made Jake’s stomach squirm. Jake hadn’t experienced a crush like this in almost two decades. He couldn’t remember if he had been this stupid the first time around.

Now, here he was on the tenth day, and he wondered if it would be the day he permanently maimed Dakota. He was in the midst of wondering just what disaster might take place when Frank, the carpenter he’d hired on Lincoln’s recommendation, popped his head out the front door and hollered for him. He’d been crawling all over the house for the last two days, taking measurements and jotting down ideas. At the end of each day, he met with Jake to discuss their options. This was the first time he’d summoned him before the end of the workday.

Jake went to him, sparing a glance for the outside of the house. It was coming along nicely, the roof already done, the first coat of paint settling in. The inside was a different matter, having to be somewhat gutted before any real work could begin. He followed Frank up the creaky stairs and into the master bedroom. “I was thinking,” started Frank, “about the closet in this room.” He gestured to the pitifully small closet, missing its doors. “Why don’t you ask Lincoln to make you a walk-in, and widen this—” He motioned to the opening. “—as well. I can make custom doors for it. I’ve already got a couple ideas. We could make this look quite nice.”

“He won’t mind?” wondered Jake aloud.

Frank looked at him. “You’re paying him. He remodels for a living. No, of course he’s not going to mind.” He turned back to the closet, one hand stroking his beard. “I’ve got the perfect design in mind.”

“Can I think about this, or do you need to know right now?”

“Think about it. I’ll talk to you later, and I need you tomorrow. Today’s my last day doing the measurements. I’m getting the supplies tomorrow, and I’m guessing you’ll want a say.”

He definitely would. He told Frank so and left him as he disappeared into the master bath to take a gander at the counter and cabinets. It looked like he’d be doing a lot of shopping in the next couple days.

As he came down the stairs, mindful of his steps lest he go falling through them, he heard a familiar deep tone coming through one of the broken windows on the side of the house. The construction crew hadn’t started yet, still out front going over their plans for the day, so the house was quiet, and he could clearly hear Dakota.

“I’ll take him shopping.”

“Are you sure?” asked Jasper. “I can do it if you’d rather not. Last time you went shopping with him you limped for the rest of the day.” There was a hint of laughter in his tone. He’d laughed heartily when he’d seen the limp and even more so when Jake had explained how Dakota had come by it.

“It’s fine. I can do it.”

Jasper started to reply, but Jake didn’t listen to the rest. He hurried outside, hands shoved in his pockets, stomach rolling and rolling like it was taking a tumble in the wash. Of course Dakota would be hesitant to do anything with him. If Jake were him, he’d be hesitant too. Really, he couldn’t blame him.

Yanking a hand free, he ran it through his hair and stared up at the house and then down at the fresh sod in the front yard. Was he in over his head? Was he just getting himself into another big mess?

“Come on,” said Dakota, appearing from around the side of the house and striding quickly toward his truck. “We’ve got shopping to do.”

Without much choice, Jake followed and climbed silently into the truck. Once seated and buckled in, he stared out the window and watched the scenery flash by. He’d never lived in the suburbs before; he had always lived in an apartment. It was refreshing—and alien—to see the massive yards flashing by with their elaborate landscapes and their individual mailboxes. Soon he would be one of these people, with their flashy yards and their mail that they didn’t need a key to get to.

He’d have all kinds of space, and he’d be alone in it.

His fingers began to tap nervously on his knee.

He’d never lived alone. Not once in his entire life had he lived alone. He’d gone from his parents’, to a dorm, to a shared apartment, and to another apartment that he’d shared for fifteen years with what he’d thought was the love of his life.

Maybe he could sublet the bottom floor of his house. Did people in the suburbs do that?

Alone. Alone. Alone.

“You know,” he said, gaze trained on the blurs outside the window. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been made to feel like one quite a lot recently. But I’m not. And I’ve never been a disaster. Though I currently am. I can’t deny that.” The tapping of his fingers grew quicker. “I don’t like inactivity, and I hate not having control. You won’t have noticed, I’m sure, but I’m actually very detail oriented when I’m focused.” He gave a low, bitter chuckle. “But see, sometimes I get distracted, and I do stupid things. And
I wish
I could not get distracted. I really, truly, do.”

He forced his fingers to stop their tapping and blinked to clear the mist of burning frustration from his eyes. “You make me unaccountably nervous, and I’m sorry for that. If I could stop it, believe me, I would.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m trying, I promise, and really, none of this has been on purpose. I’m not trying to kill you.”

Tense silence filled the air between them, finally broken by Dakota saying, very slowly, “I didn’t think you were trying to kill me.” The truck slowed to a stop at a red light. “I just thought you were really clumsy. Inept and murderous never crossed my mind. Though, now I might be a little worried.” He didn’t sound worried, though.

“But,” said Jake, regretting every word that had left his mouth. “I heard Jasper saying….” He trailed off into silence. “Can we forget this conversation ever happened?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Dakota, glancing at him quickly, the truck inching forward as the light turned green and the person in front of them didn’t move. “What did you hear Jasper saying?”

Jake buried his face in his palm. “I heard him saying you didn’t have to take me, and he’d understand why you wouldn’t want to.”

“And what did you hear me say?” asked Dakota.

“That it was fine, and you’d take me.”

“Where in that did you get that I had an issue with it? Or did you half listen to a conversation you were eavesdropping on and jump to a wrong conclusion?”

Jake wanted to curl into a little ball and disappear. “Can you really blame me for thinking that? Every time you come near me, I do something to you. It’s not an unfounded idea.”

“If I had an issue with you working with us, you wouldn’t be working with us,” stated Dakota. “That simple. If I thought you were a hazard, you’d be done. All of those things that happened were as much my fault as yours. I know better than to come up behind people or to walk under trees that are being trimmed. You need to chill out.”

His mouth gaped open like a fish. “I don’t know what to say,” he settled on.

“You could start by telling me why I’m making you nervous.”

Jake really, truly, did not want to tell him the why of that. His brain raced to come up with a plausible answer. “You’re like a teacher,” he settled on.

“A teacher?” Dakota sounded baffled, and Jake didn’t blame him.

He scratched at his jaw, keeping his gaze firmly fixed out the window. “It’s like, when a teacher watches you do something, you could be really good at the something, but once you know they’re watching, it all goes wrong.”

“You’re saying I give you performance anxiety.”

“Yes!” agreed Jake, feeling like he was grasping at straws.

Dakota was looking increasingly doubtful. “I don’t buy it.”

“Well, why not?” demanded Jake indignantly.

“You do just fine around Jasper, and he’d be just as much a teacher figure.” Dakota glanced at him, his lips quirking. “That and you’re an awful liar.” He held his hand up to stop Jake from replying. “You know what, I don’t care. Just tell me this, is there anything I can do to make you less nervous or to minimize whatever’s distracting you?”

Yes, you could become miraculously unattractive to me. Your hair could be a duller shade of black, and your eyes could be narrower. Your cheekbones could be less prominent, and your muscles could be nonexistent. Really, you could be anything but yourself.

“No,” he said aloud. “It’s just something I have to work through.”

“HOW’S IT
coming along?” Dakota asked a very sweaty Jake, who was hunched over a shovel, absolutely exhausted and halfway out of breath. Digging a hole was something that looked relatively easy but was in reality not. If he hadn’t already removed a sizable chunk of yard, he’d have said fuck the koi pond.

Jake eyed him and his looser posture, the way his hands were crammed into his pockets, his weight on his heels. It was a very casual look. He looked back at the hole, the butterflies in his stomach obnoxiously fluttering. “Very slowly,” he said.