Fixer-Upper (4 page)

“Would you like some help?”

Jake looked back at the pit, fingers clenching and unclenching around the handle of his shovel. “All right.”
Please God, do not accidentally let me hit him with this shovel.

“Great. Let me go get a shovel.” He smiled widely at him before heading off in search of one.

When Dakota came back, he took the left side of the hole and got right to work, leaving Jake to continue on with the right side. It was mostly silent, save for the occasional grunt Jake released as he tried to pry more than a sprinkling of dirt from the tightly packed earth. Every time a grunt escaped, he could feel his face heat up. He kept his face studiously turned toward the ground so Dakota couldn’t see.

“You need to drink something,” said Dakota after some time had passed. “You’re really flushed.”

He felt the tips of his ears go red. He looked up to see Dakota staring at him, honest concern on his face. “I’m fine.”

Dakota shook his head and propped his shovel against the side of the hole, stepping onto the grass. He dusted dirt from his jeans. “No, come on. I need water, anyways. Gotta keep hydrated in weather like this.”

He had two options. He could refuse the offer of water, or he could suck it up and go get a drink with Dakota. The first would be stupid—he hadn’t actually had a drink since he’d started working (yes, he’s aware of how stupid that was), and he was hot. So he climbed out of the hole and followed Dakota to his truck.

Dakota tossed him a cold bottle from the cooler in the back and sat down on the bed of the truck, his long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. Jake cautiously sat next to him, leaving a good foot of space between them.

“Is this the first time you’ve had a yard?” asked Dakota, out of the blue.

Jake swallowed his mouthful and reluctantly brought the bottle down to rest on his lap. “Yeah. How could you tell?”

Dakota smiled at him. Jake felt his stomach take a staggering dip, and it took everything he had to maintain eye contact. “You’d never mowed before.”

“I could have hired people to do it for me,” pointed out Jake.

“Are you going to hire a lawn service for this yard?”

Jake gazed out over the yard that was slowly coming along, much like the house. They’d just put the new windows in on the bottom floor, and the eaves would be fixed within the next day or two. The painters had even finally moved inside, getting to work on the freshly patched walls of the kitchen. “No,” he said. “I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m honestly a bit surprised you didn’t try to talk the construction crew into letting you help.”

He’d wanted to try and was well aware of the absurdity. They’d made it clear on the first day that an offer of help from him was laughable. He was pretty sure the other workers thought Dakota and Jasper were insane for letting him work with them. He offered Dakota a wan smile, not sure what to say.

“Oh,” said Dakota, his cheeks darkening with the hint of a blush. He stood up, downing the rest of his drink in one go, Adam’s apple bobbing exuberantly. He tossed the bottle into the back of the truck. “Come on. Let’s carve out your pond.”

They walked back to the hole and got to work carving it out. “Are you going to put a screen over it?” asked Dakota, several minutes in.

“A screen?” Jake looked at him, pausing in his shoveling. “Ponds need screens?”

“If you don’t want birds or stray cats to eat your fish they do,” laughed Dakota. “It won’t detract from the look or anything, but if you’re going to put pricey fish in here, I’d try and protect them.”

“I’ll get a screen,” Jake decided. He did not want any of the local wildlife eating his fish. “Do you think I should get a fish tank for inside the house too?”

Dakota pushed his hair back behind his ears, tucking away the strands that had come loose from his ponytail. “Do you really like fish or something?”

Jake actually thought about it. “I’ve never had a fish. My freshman roommate had a goldfish. He said it gave the room life.”

Dakota looked like he doubted that, but he didn’t argue. “If you like fish, get fish. But there are plenty of other pet options, many of which will be a lot more loving than a bunch of fish.”

He thought about getting a dog and pictured a puppy bouncing around his house and thought that might be less lonely than a bunch of fish. Or maybe he’d get a cat. How did one decide if they were a cat or a dog person? “Do you have pets?”

“I’ve got a couple dogs, some horses, a cat, and some ferrets.” He grinned at Jake. “Jasper likes to joke I’m trying to start a petting zoo. Maybe I’ll get some cows next.”

Jake looked at his backyard, thought of the other backyards he’d seen. “I don’t think I can have a horse here.”

Dakota snorted. “You can’t. I live on land, just outside of these suburbs. There are a couple ranches near me, but it’s fairly solitary. Very quiet and nice.” He smirked. “I like not having to see my neighbors.”

“I’m used to hearing my neighbors through the walls,” admitted Jake. “I’m kind of worried I’m going to miss that background noise.”

Dakota gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’d go crazy if I had to deal with that.”

Jake shrugged. “You get used to it, and you hear the most interesting stuff. The girl in the dorm next to me my freshman year had a cat that she’d snuck in, and she was amazing with a violin.”

“Because those two things are totally related,” laughed Dakota.

“The cat used to meow really loudly, and she’d play the violin to get him to stop. It took the RA four months to figure out she had the cat in there.” He paused in his shoveling. “Did you not live in a dorm when you went to school?”

“I lived with family while I went to school. Sharing space with a stranger never appealed to me.”

“Dorms are pretty awful,” conceded Jake. His second roommate had been crazy sexually active, and Jake had spent more time couch surfing than sleeping in his own bed.

“I’ve heard nothing but horror stories,” agreed Dakota. “I wasn’t eager to have any of my own.”

“Understandable.”

Sweat was rolling down Jake’s temple, and he lifted his shirt, trying to wipe it away. All he managed to do was get dirt from his shirt in his eye. Cursing, he dropped the shovel and his shirt, knuckling at his right eye in earnest. It hurt. He tried to open his eye and found that he couldn’t.

Sweaty fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his hand from his face. “Jesus,” huffed Dakota. “Stop, you’re making it worse.” He pushed Jake down till he was sitting on the edge of the hole. “Stay right here.” He climbed out and walked away. Jake watched the sway of his backside with his one good eye.

At least this time he’d hurt only himself. That was progress. He wondered if he’d end up having to wear an eyepatch. He didn’t think it would be a good look.

Dakota came back, water bottle in hand.

“I don’t think making me drink more water is going to fix this,” said Jake.

“Well that makes two of us,” said Dakota, crouching down in front of him. “I need you to tilt your head back. I’m going to flush the dirt out.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it means I’m going to pour this water into your eye, then yes.”

“I don’t think so.” Jake had a thing about his eyes. He didn’t wear contacts, he didn’t put drops in them, and he avoided the eye doctor like he had the plague. His eyeball was a no-touch zone.

“I can flush the dirt out, or you can leave it in to get infected.” Dakota looked exasperated, his eyes narrowed with irritation.

“I’m not going to be able to keep my eye open.” He couldn’t even open it in the first place.

“You’re going to look beautiful with a glass eye.” He started to stand.

Jake reached for him, grabbing on to his wrist and tugging. “Fine,” he snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Tilt your head back.”

Jake tilted his head back, and Dakota moved so he was straddling him. If his eye hadn’t been throbbing, Jake was pretty sure something else would have been taking notice of the suggestive position. It was odd to actually be grateful for the pain in his eye. Dakota hunched over him, grabbing his chin to hold his face steady.

“Can you open your eye?”

He got it open to the tiniest of slits.

Dakota let go of his chin. “I’m going to hold it open.”

“This is ridiculous,” muttered Jake.

Dakota’s fingers pried open his eye, holding the lid back. Jake’s eye watered madly, he couldn’t see out of it, and it hurt. The water bottle began to tip. Jake couldn’t do it. He jerked away, and water went sloshing down his face.

“Seriously,” demanded Dakota. “Are you five?” He moved away from Jake. “I can take you to the eye doctor.”

“No, no, I’m good. I won’t move this time.”

He moved.

“I’m going to get Jasper,” said Dakota. “Stay here.”

“Why are you going to get Jasper? He doesn’t need to be involved.”

Dakota gave him a stern look. “Jasper is going to hold your head still before this entire bottle ends up all over you.” He left Jake sitting there, staring after him, unable to open his eye and with water drenching his face and shirt.

“Unreal,” Jake muttered and sullenly rubbed at his sore eye. He tried blinking, but all he succeeded in doing was making it look like he was crying. Tears were leaking from his abused eye and joining the rest of the water on his face.

He didn’t have long to wait before Dakota came back with Jasper in tow. Dakota resumed his place in front of Jake, while Jasper took up a position behind him. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we had him lie down?” asked Jasper. “You could sit on him then?”

“I’m right here,” said Jake indignantly. “No need to talk around me.”

They ignored him. “We’ll try that next if this doesn’t work,” said Dakota.

“I’m not lying down in the dirt,” snapped Jake, poking Dakota’s stomach for emphasis and to make sure he had his attention.

“Fine. Then whether you like it or not, you’ll be going to the eye doctor if you move again.”

“Fine.”

Jasper gripped his head on either side, smiling down at him and looking far too amused. Dakota pried his eye back open. The water tipped and right into his eye it went. Jake tried to jerk away but was unable to do so. He settled for cursing, even though the water kept rolling down and getting into his mouth. It was awful. The stream stopped after a minute. “Blink,” Dakota told him, releasing his eyelid. His thumb brushed quickly under Jake’s eye, a brief flash of contact, gone in a second. Jake blinked and still felt like something was in his eye. He considered lying to Dakota, but it must have shown on his face because Dakota sighed and said, “Again.”

It took four times, and two water bottles, before the water was able to successfully flush the dirt out. By the end they were all, somehow, soaked. Jake felt half-drowned, and despite the dirt not being in his eye anymore, it was sore. His thank-you was stilted, and he didn’t sound like he meant it.

“Only you,” said Jasper, clapping him on the shoulder. “Try not to do that again.”

Before they started working on the ponds again, Dakota went and got him a clean rag. “Just because we use our shirts,” he said, “doesn’t mean you have to too.”

If Jake hadn’t have thought he’d need the rag, he’d have thrown the damn thing at Dakota.

THERE WAS
dirt encrusted beneath his nails, and he didn’t think he’d ever get them clean again. Strangely, he didn’t mind. His hands were deep in the ground, scooping it out, smoothing it over, patting it down. He felt like he was on one of those TV shows, sitting down in the grass and planting his plants in his suburban neighborhood.

“You need to make it a bit deeper,” said Dakota, leaning over his shoulder to peer at his work. “You don’t want the rain to wash it out.” He was sitting beside Jake, pulling the plants from their pots and shaking loose dirt, handing them to Jake when the hole was ready.

“That good?” asked Jake, scooping out several more piles with the mini shovel.

“Yeah, just rip that bit out there.” Dakota motioned to the weed root that was sticking out from the side.

Jake hated ripping the weeds out. They were stubborn roots that required a lot of tugging and a fair amount of cursing. He wrapped his fingers around it and gave it a tentative tug. It didn’t budge at all. Dakota snorted. He braced one hand behind his back and pulled, leaning his weight back onto it. The root ripped free in a spray of soil and he tossed it into the waste bag by his side.

“One of these times, it’s going to come out with nothing more than a nudge.” He took the proffered Million Bell sapling and set it into its home.

“Who am I to disabuse you of your dreams,” rejoined Dakota. Long dark fingers reached over and helped him smooth down the excess silt.

Dakota’s nails were similarly discolored, his hands dusted with dark soil. Jake really shouldn’t have been so enamored of them, but he’d always been a sucker for long, slender fingers. Piano hands, he called them. “Do you play?” he asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop and think. He ducked his head.

“Do I play?” queried Dakota. “Play what?”

Jake motioned at his hands. “Piano? Any instruments? You’ve got the hands for it.”

Dakota turned his hands over, holding them up in front of his face. “I don’t play anything. Complete lack of rhythm here.” He wiggled his fingers. “How do I have the hands for it?”

“Big hands, long, thin fingers.” Jake shrugged. “My ex plays the piano, had hands like yours.” Kevin was an amazing musician. In the early days of their relationship, he’d composed for Jake, played him songs and sang along in his god-awful singing voice that Jake had absolutely adored.

They moved to the right three feet, and Jake started digging the next hole.

“Have a thing for musicians, then?”

His mini shovel got stuck on a root, and he grasped it, going through the tugging process once again. It was a stubborn root, though, and took five hard yanks before it came springing out. Jake winced as he tossed it aside, his fingers feeling raw where it had dug in. He probably should have grabbed gloves before he started. “Not really,” he said once he went back to digging the hole. “It just worked out that way.”