NOW THAT he had a concrete deadline and something to work toward, Jeff didn’t want to waste any more time. He insisted on driving Carter to work the next morning—if Jeff drove him, he could pretend Carter wouldn’t take one of the park trucks out and drive it around—and then went to the cabin, where he spent two hours on the phone with Monique working out logistics.
Unfortunately, the cell phone signal really was weak—he could have a phone call just fine, if the day was clear, but loading anything more than text on his phone was a no-go. Which meant he needed to take a trip into town to meet with a real estate agent.
Corey Klein had gone to school with Carter’s older brother, and she had time to meet with him that afternoon.
If she was surprised that he whipped out an NDA for her and her staff to sign right after they shook hands, she didn’t let on. “I’ll just get this to my receptionist,” she said, smiling pleasantly. “One moment.”
She was back five minutes later with copies, which she handed to Jeff in a neat folder as she resumed her seat at the desk. “Now, Mr. Pine. I admit you have my attention. What can I do for you?”
“I need to buy a house.” No point wasting either of their time with a lengthy preamble. “A waterfront four-season would be preferable, but I’m in a time-crunch.”
Corey flipped open a paper notepad. “How quickly are we talking?”
“Ideally, I’d want possession within three weeks. Faster if possible.”
That did throw her; her eyes widened. He could practically see her calculating her percentage of what it would cost him to get what he wanted. He’d be excited about that too, if he were her. “I see. Have you been preapproved for a mortgage?”
Translation—How much are you willing to spend?
“I’ll be paying cash.” His selling estate agent told him the market was so bonkers at the moment he could get a near-immediate closing. That should cover a large portion of the cost. He had a few other options if it didn’t. “I’d prefer not to spend more than three.” He’d need to keep some funds in reserve for renovations. He couldn’t just expect to find a place with the right acoustics for a recording studio.
He watched her process that yes, he meant three million dollars—not that that was an unusual price for a nice place on the water. “Okay. Let’s talk about your must-haves.”
They spent about twenty minutes discussing, and then Corey flipped the top of her notepad shut. “I think I have a good place to start. With your timeline, I’ll be calling you later this afternoon to set up some appointments. What does your schedule look like?”
Jeff’s only plans in the next three weeks included occasional T-ball games, naked time with Carter, and writing and polishing as many songs as he could squeeze out of his brain. He was just lucky that, with the prospect of leaving the label on the table, writing was coming a lot more naturally. “I’m pretty flexible.” Except, shit, he wasn’t supposed to tell Carter about the whole switching labels thing, and if Carter started asking questions, Jeff would fold like a wet paper bag. “Preferably regular business hours, but I can make evenings and weekends work.”
“Business hours are great, actually, since most people are at work at those times, so the houses will be empty and you’ll be one of the only ones looking.”
“Great.” He smiled and stood. “Then I look forward to hearing from you.”
And spending a fuck ton of money. No big deal.
He picked up a few sandwiches and some veggies and hummus for a late lunch in the hopes that he’d find Carter in his office, doing whatever park naturalists did when they couldn’t be in the field, but when he pulled into the parking lot, Carter was getting into a truck with Kara at the wheel.
Jeff hopped out, anxiety spiking. “Trouble?”
“Maybe not.” Carter looked anxious to go, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “We got a report of a bear and cub, and the location doesn’t match the trackers for the other mothers we know about. Kara’s going to drive me out.”
Grabbing the bag of food from the console, Jeff asked, “Can I come?”
Kara drove like she had to be reminded this was a conservation area, not a go-kart track. From the seat behind her, Jeff could see Carter’s right leg twitching as if he wanted to hit a brake.
“I can’t wait until that boot comes off,” she griped. “Do you want to check this out before the bear disappears or not?”
“I’d like to get there in one piece.”
Before Jeff could add his two cents—Carter did that to him all the time too—Kara wheeled around a curve and the seat belt tightened until he wheezed for breath. The bag of sandwiches fell to the floor.
Maybe Carter had a point.
They pulled to a stop just off the side of the road in an otherwise deserted area of the park. There was a walking trail on one side, and a bearproof garbage can stood where the trail intersected the road. Or perhaps formerly bearproof—it looked like someone had taken the curve too fast and hit the side of the can hard enough to dent it. It obviously didn’t close properly anymore, and now garbage lay strewn across the road and down the path. Something had definitely been here.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stay in the car,” Carter said, turning around.
Jeff gave him a flat look. “You literally have a broken foot, but I should stay in the car?”
“You both should stay in the car,” said Kara, “but you’re both stupid. Carter, get your air horn. Jeff, stay away from the bears. And cabin porches.”
“Harsh.”
They got out, leaving the doors open to avoid making any loud noises. Jeff worried about the damage running away from a bear would do to Carter’s broken foot, but it turned out he didn’t need to worry. As soon as they got out, Kara held a finger to her lips and pointed. She must have heard something.
Carter craned his neck over the bed of the truck but eventually shook his head. Then Kara climbed up on the back tire and pointed into the trees.
When Carter made to do the same on the opposite side of the truck, Jeff hissed, “Absolutely not.”
Rolling his eyes, Carter shuffled around the back of the truck, lowered the tailgate, and used the built-in step to gain a vantage point.
Fine. Not to be left out, Jeff climbed up after him. Carter’s long legs made it look easy. For Jeff it was almost a jump instead of a step. He was afraid he made too much noise, but when he got his footing, Carter wrapped an arm around his waist, tugged him close, and turned his body so Jeff could follow the sight line from where he was pointing with his other arm. “There.” The smile came through in his voice, warm enough that Jeff felt it at the top of his head. “See them?”
Jeff looked.
It took a moment to discern the three dark shapes in the underbrush—Jeff really was going to have to get glasses, damn it—but when he did, he smiled. “Is that them?”
“No tracked bears in this area. And none of them have twins.”
Jeff leaned into Carter’s shoulder for a moment. “Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot her with a tranq gun or something and get another tracker on her! I can’t go through this again!”
“We didn’t really come prepared for that,” Carter said, amused. “We’re just here to check that she’s okay.”
“Ugh.” Jeff sat down heavily on the wheel well. “I could not do your job.”
They ended up eating lunch at one of the picnic areas, somewhat protected from the mosquitoes by the breeze off the water. Kara and Carter discussed the logistics of her T-ball takeover, which Jeff let pass easily over his head when he realized he actually had decent enough reception to load the pictures in the emails Corey had sent him.
He was thumbing through the options, debating whether he wanted to remodel a couple of bathrooms over the next few years if it meant he could have a gate, when Carter nudged him and he panicked and almost dropped his phone.
“Wow.” Carter’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. “Are you looking at porn or something? I promise I won’t kink-shame.”
Jeff couldn’t decide whether to scramble for a lie or a snappy remark, so he felt relieved when Kara said, “Aww. The honeymoon’s over already.”
“If Carter’s asking about my kinks, I think we’re firmly in the prehoneymoon stage,” Jeff said wryly, grateful his phone screen had gone dark because he’d accidentally hit the button.
“Good point.” Kara crunched a carrot. “Don’t worry, Carter, I’m sure he’ll go slow with you at first.”
Between her words and Carter’s blindsided, half-offended expression, it was several minutes before Jeff could stop laughing.
AS WITH many other tasks, money made the process of buying a cottage infinitely less painful. It took Jeff a week to choose one, put in an offer, get an inspection, and close the sale. Thirty-six hours after that, Monique called to let him know his condo had sold and the deal was done.
Unfortunately, that left him with a number of other problems.
He still hadn’t heard from Max. Everything else was just money; Jeff could always make more of it. He couldn’t replace Max.
At least Trix seemed to have some contact with him, because she said, “He’s going through some stuff. I promise he will talk to you eventually, but he has things he needs to apologize to you for, and he needs to work up to it.”
Jeff just hoped he managed that before they had to play in Ottawa.
And then there was the cabin rental. Jeff wasn’t exactly broke, but it didn’t seem like a great idea to let the cabin just sit there once he owned property, especially considering his recent change in financial situation. Especially with the potential of Big Moose finding out what they were up to and blowing the whole thing out of the water.
After a week of agonizing, he amended his rental agreement the day the cottage closed. He’d have two days to get the rest of his things from the cabin and transfer them to his fancy new four-bedroom cottage on the lake (complete with boathouse). Most of his stuff was at Carter’s by now anyway; he only used the cabin for songwriting.
The biggest problem should have been keeping his mouth shut about all of this to Carter, but Carter was still working like he could single-handedly save the planet. Eventually Jeff took to driving him to and from work every day just to curb Carter’s habit of spending ten hours in the office.
Or so he thought, at least until, one evening in late June, he arrived at Carter’s office at six thirty to find the building locked and the parking lot empty.
Typical.
At least Carter had the good sense to pick up on the second ring. “I’m late for dinner, huh?”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “You’re late for a kick in the ass. Where are you?”
“Uh, Two Willows Point?”
God damn it. The road only went halfway out there. “Did you walk—”
“No, relax, we took a utility cart. We had a patron report a badger sighting. Had to check it out.” He sounded so cheerful, like this was the best possible thing he could imagine. “Normally I’m pretty skeptical, but they were right. Which is a big deal, because there’s fewer than two hundred badgers in Ontario, by the latest estimate.”
It was difficult to maintain his grump in the face of Carter’s enthusiasm. “Congratulations.” The way Carter talked, he might as well have personally built the badger a guest house and rolled out the welcome mat. Which, considering that he was largely responsible for the stewardship of the park and creating, curating, and preserving its microhabitats, wasn’t far off.
“Thanks,” Carter said, as though Jeff had been completely sincere.
Jeff had been completely sincere. Damn it. “Want me to come meet you?”
So he drove off to pick up Carter from wherever his ranger of the day had carted him off to. For ten minutes Carter talked animatedly about the biodiversity returning to that area of the park, and then they hit the highway and he leaned his head against the window and fell asleep with the evening sun gilding his hair.
Jeff could hardly look at him, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was too beautiful and too good, and Jeff loved him to distraction. The next month was going to be terrible. If he could just get this last show under his belt, and if they could get their album written in time, and if the new label deemed it good enough, then he could have this life—this quieter, slower, warmer life—where he’d be gone for a few weeks a year instead of months on end; where he’d spend his life surrounded by people who knew him instead of people who simply adored his persona; where Carter would come home to him at the end of almost every day.
Even if he was late.
Late workday or not, Carter’s car nap must have rejuvenated him, because when they got home, he shepherded Jeff into the bedroom and then rubbed his beard all over Jeff’s thighs before taking him into his mouth. As soon as Jeff started to move his hips, Carter abandoned his dick, hard and leaking all over his stomach, in favor of fucking him open with two fingers.
Carter really didn’t need any help finding Jeff’s prostate now. He worked Jeff until Jeff was fucking back into every thrust, hands curled in the sheets, profanities falling from his lips. Jeff orgasmed on a half shout as Carter ran his teeth up the sensitive skin on his inner thigh that he’d just beard-burned, and didn’t know how much later he tuned back in to reality to find Carter had three fingers in him now and was rutting unhurriedly against his thigh.
“Oh, did you want something?” Jeff asked, a little hoarsely.
“Hmm.” And suddenly the fingers slid out and the head of Carter’s cock nudged against his hole.
Jeff wasn’t going to get a chance to finish that album because he was going to die of sex. He went hot all over as it popped in, only for Carter to withdraw and rub his dick in the slickness around Jeff’s hole. Jeff groaned and hooked his ankle around Carter’s waist, hoping to pull him closer. “You really love that, huh?” he asked, raising his eyes to Carter’s face.
Carter tapped his cock against him obscenely. Jeff’s stomach muscles clenched in anticipation. “You really love that,” he corrected, his voice every bit as hot as his eyes, and he proceeded to fuck Jeff just like that until Jeff broke and wrapped a hand around his own erection and came everywhere.
So, yeah. Dead of sex. But what a way to go.
They spent the last rays of the afterglow on the back porch, polishing off the burgers and sweet potato fries Jeff had made for dinner. Jeff was halfway convinced that life would still be pretty great even if Carter continued being an irrepressible workaholic when his phone rang and dumped a bucket of cold water on all his warm fuzzies.
It was Dina.
Jeff cleared his throat before he answered, in the hopes that he would sound more normal. “Dina, what’s up?”
“Have you heard from Max?” she said with no preamble. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”
Fuck. Jeff was not telling her anything about that. “Did you leave a message? You know how he can get.”
He meant flighty artist, but from Dina’s response, she obviously thought he meant high. “I do know, that’s what I’m worried about.”
Well, she wasn’t going to reach him at his rehab facility until his doctors cleared him to have his phone. Which would hopefully happen in the next two days, because that was how long they had before the next concert. “What do you need to talk to him for, anyway?”
Dina sighed. “I need to confirm travel arrangements and accommodations for Ottawa. He hasn’t been answering my emails either.”
Jeff had written her back to give the plans the thumbs-up a week ago. “I’m sure it’s fine. Trix and I will make sure he shows up.”
He crossed his fingers under the table, hoping she’d accept that and just move on, because Carter was already watching him with interest. Unfortunately, what she said was “Where is he?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Jeff dissembled. “Sorry, Dina, but you’re kind of interrupting dinner here. Do you need something from me?” He felt a little guilty about it; it wasn’t her fault the label was full of fuckweasels.
She sighed heavily. “No, that’s fine. Sorry for interrupting. Have a good night, Jeff.”
Now he felt like an asshole. “Yeah,” he said. “You too.”
He hung up.
Carter regarded him curiously, head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised. “Trouble?”
Jeff took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Max hadn’t specifically asked him not to say anything, and it wasn’t like Carter would rat him out to anyone. And he hated lying to Carter even by omission. He could at least offer a partial truth.
“Max is in rehab,” he blurted. “He’s been out of contact with everyone but Trix. Dina wanted to talk to him.”
“Oh.” Blinking, Carter furrowed his brow. “Dina doesn’t know?”
He rolled his lips together and bit them. “Max didn’t think it was any of her business. The rest of us agreed.”
“No, I get it, I mean, you’ve had enough trouble with them. Why give them an inch?” But the frown hadn’t gone anywhere. “Why didn’t you tell me, though?”
It wasn’t like Jeff could just say Because if I told you that, I’d be that much closer to spilling the whole “getting out of our shitty contract” plan, and I signed an NDA. If it was just him, he wouldn’t worry about it. He trusted Carter implicitly. But it wasn’t fair to ask Trix and Joe and Max to trust him implicitly too.
“I wanted to.” He pushed his empty plate away from him, suddenly nauseous. “But it felt like it wasn’t my story to tell.”
“You’ve been a little off,” Carter said gently. Of course he noticed. Of course he never said anything. Of course he waited for Jeff to bring it up. “Is this why?”
“It’s part of it.” Jeff didn’t want to lie any more than he had to, but he didn’t feel like he could admit there was more. All he needed was Carter mentioning something to his mother or someone offhand, and then townspeople asking about it. The cottage purchase would be public record; it wouldn’t be difficult to find once someone was looking. And even if Jeff buying a cottage didn’t raise any red flags for the label, him selling his condo in Toronto might. If they found out about the contractors he’d hired to soundproof a recording studio, that might.
If they found out Trix, Joe, and Max were coming to Willow Sound after the Ottawa show with their instruments, that definitely would raise eyebrows. Jeff needed to keep a lid on as many of the details as he could.
Carter’s expression didn’t clear. If anything, it grew more troubled. He pursed his lips, and his broad shoulders hunched in for a moment before he took a deep breath and straightened them. “Are you…?” He met Jeff’s eyes. “Are we okay?”
What? Jeff’s mouth dropped open. “Carter—yeah, of course we are. Why would you think…?” Had he somehow been ambiguous? He’d basically moved in. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Then again, Carter didn’t know Jeff had sold his condo or bought property locally.
Damn it. Jeff tried again as his stomach sank with the weight of his dread. “Are you unhappy?”
“No!” Carter said quickly, mouth opening in horror. “No, God, Jeff—I’ve never been this happy in my life and my foot’s broken.” He gave a breathy puff of laughter and shook his head. “Guess I should’ve been watching where I was going instead of flirting with you.”
“Nah,” Jeff squeezed out past the sudden tightness in his throat. “Who knows how long it would’ve taken me to get a clue if you hadn’t?”
“I was thinking about engraving an invitation if the hike didn’t work,” Carter teased.
Jeff stuck his tongue out. “You could’ve said something, you know.”
“Oh, like you did, you mean?”
Now that was just unfair. “How many thinly veiled Top 40 love songs do you need?” Jeff gently kicked his left ankle under the table. “I thought we weren’t talking about them because you didn’t feel the same and I made it awkward. I didn’t know you were just being obtuse.”
“Hey,” Carter protested. “How was I supposed to know? And even if I thought maybe some of them were about me, was I supposed to assume you felt the same way more than ten years later? That you meant it the way I—I mean, lots of artists have muses—”
Jeff stared at him, openmouthed. “Oh my God.”
Carter stopped, the apples of his cheeks burning red, and dropped his gaze to the tabletop.
“Oh my God,” Jeff repeated. He’d been operating on the assumption that they were on the same page, but obviously Carter thought Jeff was still reading the introduction or something. It’s not like he doesn’t know, Jeff had written in that social media statement—but maybe, somehow, he didn’t. “How do you not—Carter.” Fuck this. He reached across the table and grabbed his hand, because by God he would have eye contact for this. “You are so lucky you have a big dick,” Jeff said, “because if you haven’t realized how stupidly in love with you I am, then you are so dumb—”
“Hey!” Carter said again, but he was laughing now, and the flush had calmed from embarrassed red to a pleased pink. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
“The moment was ruined when I had to do my love confession song live in front of five thousand other people,” Jeff said dryly, “and apparently it didn’t even take with the person I most wanted to hear it, so—”
Honestly, did Carter think Jeff made public statements about who he was dating for just anyone?
“All right.” Carter tried to raise his hands in concession, but he was still holding one of Jeff’s, so the gesture turned out kind of lopsided. “You made your point. I was dumb. I thought maybe you weren’t ready.”
“No shit.”
Carter made a face. “In my defense, the first time I wanted to say it, you looked like you were going to have an attack of the vapors.”
“Oh, I was,” Jeff agreed easily. He knew exactly which moment Carter was referring to—that campfire-night comment and the way Carter had looked at him afterward, as though Jeff were the stupid one. “You wait fifteen years to hear that from someone, the idea that you might actually get what you want is kind of overwhelming.”
Speaking of, Carter had not actually said the words yet. Jeff was trying to be patient, but like he said—fifteen years of waiting. Suddenly another fifteen seconds seemed like too long.
For a second, he wasn’t sure if Carter was teasing him on purpose or just being dumb again, but then he caught the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. “You’re not gonna have one now, are you?”
Jeff sputtered. “Time will freaking tell—”
Carter kissed him, which was cheating and also probably the fastest way to get Jeff to shut up. The kiss was warm and sweet and full of promise, and at the end it got a little dirty, so that by the time Carter pulled away, Jeff was leaning in for more. Carter stopped him with a finger to his lips, and his blue eyes were soft and serious and so, so fond when he said, “I love you too.”
So that was great.
Jeff got to bask in the glow of that for a whole twenty-four hours, and then he picked up the keys to his brand-new cottage, double-checked the cabin was empty, and went to sit on the dock of his brand-new multimillion-dollar gamble.
“No big deal,” he told himself as he plucked out a few notes on the Seagull. “Just the possibility of getting everything you ever wanted.” The Ottawa concert was the day after tomorrow. He didn’t have time to panic.
The sound of tires on gravel pulled him out of his contemplation of the water. That would be the contractor. He went and let them in and gave them a quick refresher tour—they’d already had a basic one when he had the inspection done—and then his phone rang.
Ella Rhodes.
She must be returning his call from the other night. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
“Sure,” the foreman said. What was his name again? Gord? “I’ll come find you if I have any questions, but I think we’re all set here.”
Jeff took the call in the office off the kitchen, sitting in a desk chair that was a little too worn to be comfortable and a size too big for him anyway. But he’d specifically asked for the house to come completely furnished because he didn’t have time to buy everything by the time he needed it. He’d ordered new mattresses and linens and that was it.
“Hi, Ella.”
“Hi, sweetheart. I got your message.”
Yes, obviously. Only now Jeff had to talk to her about it. Ugh. “Thank you for calling,” he said. “Um, I just… this is going to sound so bizarre.”
“You and Carter didn’t have a fight, did you?” She sounded concerned. “I know he can be stubborn. He’s like his father that way.”
That was the opening Jeff needed, but he hated himself for using it. “No, we’re not fighting, but he…. Actually, that’s…. I’m just wondering….” Did your husband work himself into an early grave? And do you think he passed that on to your middle son? Working yourself to death wasn’t a real thing, was it?
“Honey, I’ve known you a long time, but you’re going to have to give me a little more to go on.”
Jeff groaned and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. For one thing, it’d make a really ridiculous noise on the phone. “Has Carter always been so… hardworking?”
Wow, did that make him sound like an asshole?
Ella hummed. “You mean has he always put in extralong days, taken on any extra responsibility he could find, and filled all his waking hours with activity?”
“Yes.” Jeff practically deflated in relief. “Why is he doing that?”
This time when she answered, her voice was as dry as the liquor store before a holiday weekend. “What am I, the oracle?” He could practically see her rolling her eyes. “I love my son, but I don’t pretend to know all his secrets.”
Shit. There went Jeff’s hopes of getting an easy answer. He tried to explain. “I just wondered if he’d always been like this. The only time I managed to get him to relax at all was when he was with me in Toronto and Vancouver. I don’t remember him being like this as a kid, but maybe my mind’s just playing tricks?”
“No, you’re right about that.” She paused—a thoughtful silence. “I told you what he was like after his father died. He was trying to fill a hole that couldn’t be filled.”
Jeff resisted the urge to make a dirty joke. “Yeah, you said. But after that, I don’t know… I thought….”
“Honestly, Jeff, those weeks he spent with you before the memorial were the most relaxed I’d seen him in months. Which is saying something, considering the park is mostly closed in the winter and he had very little to do.”
Jeff had been afraid of that. “So this backsliding now….”
“You’d have to ask him about it,” she said pointedly, which was fair. Jeff couldn’t go running to Carter’s mom every time they needed to have a difficult conversation. “But if I were you, I’d be asking myself what’s changed.”
Jeff was already writing an album; how much more self-reflection could one person do? “All right. Thanks,” he said belatedly.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You know you can ask me anything.” Ella paused again, and this time when she resumed, amusement colored her voice. “Even if the answer is that you need to do the legwork yourself.”
Jeff snorted in spite of himself. “I could use the frank talk,” he admitted. He didn’t exactly have much in the way of relationship role models, and Ella and Fred had been more in love in their forties than any other couple he’d ever met.
“Oh, I know it. And I know you make my boy very happy.”
He could tell from the tone of her voice she was thinking about the time she’d walked in on them kissing, and he had to fight the urge to groan aloud again. “It’s mutual.”
Now she laughed. “Oh, Jeff. I never had any doubt about that.”
He’d only just hung up when the foreman poked his head in. Jeff’s heart sank. “Bad news?”
“Well, it’s not great.” He had a clipboard with him. “This is going to be a studio room, yeah? Lots of equipment for recording and… whatever?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.” Please tell me that can still be the plan. “Is something wrong?”
“Ah, yes and no. Any idea how much power that equipment draws?”
Jeff didn’t have a clue. “No… but I can call my setup guru? Or just give you her number. She can probably give you all the details more efficiently without me as the go-between.”
“Right.”
The guy looked like he had more to say. Jeff had never met a foreman who wouldn’t speak their mind—they didn’t get put in charge of crews by being afraid of telling people about problems—but maybe this was extra weird for him since Jeff was semi famous. “Look—Gord?”
“George,” he corrected.
“Sorry. George.” Jeff dropped his phone on the desk and sat forward with his hands between his knees. “Whatever’s going on, it’s not your fault and I’m not going to get mad at you or have, I don’t know, some kind of rage fit like you see on MTV or whatever. So just spit it out. What’s the problem?”
George practically sagged with the release of pressure. “The house is only wired for fifty-amp service.” He showed Jeff the clipboard, which told him absolutely nothing, but he was a man, so he pretended it all made perfect sense. “You’re going to need to put in a new breaker box.”
Finally, a plan of action. “Okay,” Jeff said. “Whatever it takes, just get it done.”
George blinked. “That’s it? You don’t want a quote or whatever?”
There were two contractors in the area and the other was booked solid trying to get things done before high tourist season. “Are you going to stiff me, George?”
“No?”
“All right, then.” Jeff handed him back the clipboard.
“Uh,” George said.
Damn it, apparently he wasn’t done.
“It’ll take a few days to get an electrician out here.”
Jeff didn’t really have a few days, but whatever. “Can you continue what you’re doing until then?”
George nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure, no problem.”
That wasn’t so bad, then. “All right.”
“Um.”
Jeff took a deep breath and counted to four, then let it out. “Something else?”
George held out the clipboard. “I need you to sign at the bottom?”
Son of a bitch.