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~Dixon~
“SERIOUSLY? THERE’S nothing wrong with this kitchen.”
Ryan swung the sledgehammer and the cabinet buckled under the pressure. “Yup. But we’re getting paid to demo it and install the new stuff.” He grinned and hefted the sledgehammer again, ready to rain down some more destructive force. “So, did you strike out with that babe from last night? I didn’t see you come back to the bar, but man, I just can’t figure you got anywhere with her. You must’ve wanted to back out of our friendly little bet, huh? No dice, man...cough it up. Your team lost, nine to zip.”
“Well...” I wasn’t sure how to answer him. Actually, I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer him about Cora. True, I hadn’t gotten anywhere close to what I usually wanted from a woman, but with Cora, over the course of one night, I wanted more than just a one-night stand. Thoughts of anything more than that were foreign, so it kind of threw me off my game. Not that I would say as much to Ryan.
“Yeah, here’s your ten bucks. Enjoy a beer on me, dude.” I picked up my crowbar and concentrated on the countertop. It had to be granite, glued with some super adhesive. Between the weight of the material and the strength of the glue, I’d be lucky to get any leverage to pop it off the cabinet bases. But damn if I wasn’t going to try. I’d already cut away the caulking around the edges and had my shims ready to place between the granite and cabinet base. Now it was time to apply some pressure.
I was familiar with pressure today. My morning wood was compounded with the lovely Ms. Cora featuring in my shower daydreams. Like I’d suspected last night, the closest I got to my goal of getting some was in my hands, my head full of snippets of midnight-black hair and green eyes. And those lips on my cock. Shit, this was not the time to slip into those thoughts. I had shit to rip out, not a chubbie to rub out.
I appreciated Ryan getting me this job, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed. I’d been destroying houses with him for the better part of a month and it was getting kind of depressing. Yeah, this time around we had the install part of the job, too, but mostly we worked as a demo team for the construction company Ryan’s parents owned. There was enough destruction in the world—especially my world—that I was starting to think I needed to build something up, not pull something down.
That kind of heavy, philosophical thinking got me into a funk—that’s what was going on right there. But the other kind of thinking—the kind where my mind filled with dirty thoughts and fantasies about a certain black-haired beauty—wasn’t going to pay the bills either, so I refocused on the granite countertop and pried that perfectly fine granite off its foundation.
The black granite had speckles of different colors in it, but my eye was caught in the green flecks. Thoughts of black hair and green eyes filled my head again. Cora. Damn, I couldn’t get more than five minutes without my wandering mind going back to her. I could picture that dark hair splayed on my pillowcase, those green eyes staring back at me, her words haunting me. So what Cub Scout badge do you earn for putting damsels in distress to bed?
“You gonna stare that granite off that cabinet base, or you gonna put your back into it? It’s almost lunchtime, and I’d like to have that done before we break.” Ryan’s amused tone cut through my distraction.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wiggled the crowbar farther between the slab and the base. With a hefty heave, I worked my way around the counter. “Okay, let’s lift this section out.”
Ryan stepped close and grabbed the other end of the sink cutout. “As good a place as any to stop. Gonna grab the lunches from the truck. Be right back.”
As Ryan left the room, I stared at the black granite, a grain of an idea forming in my head. Inspired by Cora, I thought about her surrounded by the material, the green flecks in the granite picking up the green of her eyes. If I turned the piece sideways, the cutout could serve as a deep recess for a chair, the rest of the slab as a desk area...or a makeup vanity. Legs made of some ornate scrolled wrought-iron...
“You still off in la-la land? Man, you got it bad.” Ryan slapped me on the back and handed me the lunch bag.
“Hey, you think it’d be okay to take some of this demo’d stuff? They’re not using any of it for anything else, are they?” All I needed was a place to store it until I could find the pieces for the legs. And a chair. And a mirror. Okay, this might be a bigger project than I first thought.
“Sure, I don’t see why not. Otherwise, it’s headed to the dumpster and then the landfill. I can check with George to make sure it’s not a big deal, but I’m pretty sure it’s free and clear, dude.”
As Ryan headed off to talk to George, the jobsite manager, thoughts of the project swirled in my head. I had no idea where I’d find any of the stuff I might need, but maybe Jake could help me out with that.
––––––––
“WHAT HAPPENED WITH Cora last night?” Jake wiped the bar with a rag and gave me a quick look. “I heard from Dave you took her up to your place. And he didn’t see her before the place closed down.”
Jake wasn’t one to nose in my affairs—not that much, anyway—so I was surprised. “Nothing. Didn’t he tell you she twisted her ankle?” I gulped some of my beer. “I just gave her a place to crash for the night. Nothing happened.” I wasn’t sure why I wanted him to know that...but I did. Cora didn’t want anyone gossiping about her.
“Nothing, huh? I saw the way you looked at her.” He stopped his cleaning and gave me a pointed look. “And I ain’t ever seen you hold back when you were interested in a girl—back in high school or from what I’ve seen recently.”
Girl? Cora was all woman. And yes, I could admit that my reputation of going after what I wanted was warranted. But something held me back when it came to Cora. Stalling for time, I pretended to be mesmerized by the label on the beer bottle and picked at it a bit. “Well, maybe she’s different. Maybe I can show a little self-restraint and get to know her a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I knew more than her name and what she drinks.”
“Maybe.” Jake grinned. Then he turned serious. “But don’t fuck it up. She’s a nice lady. And if you hurt her, I’ll have to hurt you.”
“Geez, glad you have my back. And how exactly do you know she’s so nice?” I refrained from asking how he’d hurt me because I didn’t even want to imagine that. He’d never laid a hand on me growing up, but he could get all badass when provoked.
“I see things. I hear things. I know things. She’s a good person. She and her friend have come in over the past few months. Let’s just say that anything she might have told me—or that I overheard—is covered by bartender-customer confidentiality.”
“Bartender-customer confidentiality? What bullshit is that?” I smirked. “Next you’re gonna tell me you’re taking confessionals before happy hour.” After another pull from the bottle, I fiddled with my phone. I had her number, but I hadn’t called Cora yet. I didn’t want to seem desperate...even if I was. I sat at the end of the bar where I could see the door, and with every glimpse of light when the door opened, I held my breath, waiting for her to appear there. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jake.
“You know, you could just sit at the table by the front door. It’d be easier than trying to pretend you’re not looking for her.”
“Bite me.” I checked my contacts on my phone. There it was: Cora Stetson. All I had to do was push a button and call. Or send a text. I wasn’t sure why I had nerves about it. I’d called plenty of women. I’d texted—okay, sexted, too—some of them. My mushed-up brain processed something Jake had said.
“What do you mean—what did she tell you that would need to be kept secret? She married or something?” Worry and doubts crowded into my head. Surely, if she was unavailable, she would have said something, right? Would have made it clear she was in a relationship? Mark. Fuck, I’d forgotten to ask who the hell Mark was. Now worry and doubt twisted into something darker, something that clenched my gut. The feeling was unwelcome; I’d never had issues like this when anyone I was interested in was just for fun, just for a night or two.
“Look, like I said, she’s a good person. Anything else, you’re going to have to ask her yourself. Now, you gonna sit here all night and mope, or call her?”
Self-doubt—and something more—settled into my bones. “Jack and Coke. Keep ’em coming.” I picked again at the label on the empty beer bottle, my fingernails not quite catching the paper. The memory of Cora’s smile invaded my brain, and some of that negative thinking lost its grip on me. “On second thought, just another beer. And you got a pencil I can use?”
I’d only met Cora last night. I didn’t need to get obsessed over things I didn’t know about her. But I needed to draw out some sketches that had been knocking around my head since today’s idea about the granite vanity table. I could use the napkin and spend a few minutes on that to give my brain a rest from constantly thinking about Cora. Except, of course, the reason I was thinking of this project at all was Cora.
“I can see your mind working a mile a minute there. What kind of trouble is this going to get you in?” Jake rummaged under the bar counter for a pencil and even pulled out an old order pad. “Here, take this.”
“No trouble. I think, anyway. Just an idea for a table that popped into my head today. I can’t believe what some people will throw away.” Even though I’d done okay in my high school wood shop classes, I hadn’t done any drawings or drafts of projects in forever.
Shayla interrupted our little discussion. “Jake, we’re running low on the IPA bottles. Can you grab another case out of the back?” the petite strawberry-blonde asked.
“If you are running low on something, get Sam to get it for you.” Jake didn’t bother to look at her as he said the words; he just kept cleaning the bar in front of him.
“Sam was on his break. That’s why I let you know instead of going in there and making a mess of your stockroom. I know how you are about everything going in its place, and everything’s got its place...and my place is out in front, taking orders, not in the back, tearing apart your precious stockroom.” She huffed, and her bangs blew up.
Jake clenched the towel.
Interesting.
“I’ll take care of it. You’d better head over to table fifteen. They’re looking antsy.”
“Oh, and Dixon...if you are looking for some cool things people are getting rid of, you should check out the Trunk. It’s a huge flea market about an hour away. Open Sundays at five a.m. until two in the afternoon. It’s amazing what you can find there.” With that, Shayla turned on her heel and headed over to table fifteen.
“The Trunk? You ever hear of that, Jake?” I kept sketching out the dimensions of the granite, and I tried to figure out what kind of legs would be needed for support.
“Yeah. Shayla’s right...you can find just about anything there, from antiques to dollar-store crap and everything in-between. Vendors change all the time, so it’s different each week. What are you planning out, anyway?”
I tilted the paper toward Jake and filled him in on my idea to re-purpose the demo’d granite slab.
“Cool. But where are you going to work on this little project of yours? And keep all the supplies and tools you’re gonna need? And what, exactly, are you going to do with it once it’s done, huh?” His teasing grin was back.
“Shut up.” I pulled the paper back. “I think Ryan’s got some space at his place where I can put all the stuff until it’s ready to come together. I’ve got to find the right legs, and then a chair. And I wouldn’t pass up the right mirror, either.” I took another drag of my beer. “But I’ll have to figure out what tools I’ll really need and where to get those. Maybe I can find some of that at the Trunk, too.”
I dropped the pencil and looked back to my phone. Picking it up before I could stop myself, I dialed Cora’s number.
“Hello?” The sweetest sound met my ears after three rings.
“Hi. It’s Dixon. Dixon Reed. Your Cub Scout savior from last night.”
“Oh. Hi.” Her breathy response gave away her surprise at my call.
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t have any problems this morning. With your ankle, I mean, after you left.”
“Thanks for checking on me. Nope, it’s all fine. No problems.”
“So, you’d be up for some walking? Say, walking into Jake’s and having a beer with me tonight?”
Her laugh echoed through the phone. “Well, I guess that’s direct. Thanks for the invite, but I can’t tonight. Work.”
My heart plummeted. “Work? It’s after six. What kind of horrible bosses do you work for, anyway? You never said.”
“I’ve got a big project up for review tomorrow. Once I give the presentation to my boss, we’re giving it to the owner of the company early next week. I might have to work Friday night and over the weekend to polish it up before Monday.”
“Working over the weekend? Sounds harsh. I’ve got a better idea.” I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn’t want any more time than necessary to go by before I saw her again. “Come with me on Sunday morning. Surely you won’t be working Sunday morning, right?” I tried not to sound desperate, but by her laugh, I wasn’t too sure I succeeded.
“How early Sunday morning are we talking? I mean, a woman’s gotta sleep in sometimes.”
“How early is too early?” I countered.
“And where exactly do you want me to go with you? Got some Cub Scouts you’re guiding into ruin by way of video games and junk food?”
“Nothing so nefarious. I save that for second dates. I heard about a flea market about an hour away that I want to go check out. I’m in the market for some unique items.” I wasn’t going to tell her those unique items were for her.
“Glad to hear you’re not in the market for fleas...I was almost worried about you. Are you talking about the Trunk? I’ve been there a few times, and it’s pretty cool. Never know what you can find there. Sounds like fun. But seriously, what time? ’Cause I’m not looking to be one of the diehard junkers, getting there at the crack of dawn.”
“How about I pick you up at eight, we grab some breakfast, and then head out? We’d be there a little after nine, so all the diehards will be out of there and we can take our time looking around.”
The phone went silent, and I held my breath. Was she going to say no? Was it too early? Was—God forbid—she going to say she’d check with Mark? Or worse, have him come, too? I rubbed the back of my neck. I was about to offer a later time when a breath whooshed over the line.
“Yeah. I could make that work. But I’ll meet you at Jake’s. It’s more on the way, so you won’t have to come to get me and then double-back in the right direction.” There were muffled voices in the background, and her attention seemed to leave our conversation.
“Cora? You there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Look, I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you Sunday at eight at Jake’s, okay?”
“Sure...whatever you want...if that’s easier.” I was about to say goodbye, but she had one more thing to say.
Her voice softened. “Thanks for asking, Dixon. I’m really looking forward to it.”
My heart pounded. Not as much as I was.