Rebuild My Heart E-Book

Ariel Tachna

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Dreamspun Desires
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 301

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Lexington Lovers A love built to last. When Derek Jackson is hired to renovate the LGBT bookstore that's also Owen Hensley's home, opposites attract. Derek is a big burly blue-collar guy, about ten years older than slight, sweet, and bookish Owen. As they spend time together, it becomes clear that each handsome outside leads to a beautiful interior. Far from the shy twink he appears, Owen has a rock-solid foundation that helped him put himself through college and start his own business. Behind Derek's strong façade waits a tender heart that's been battered by a rough family past—something Owen understands. After Owen's runaway nephew lands on his doorstep, it throws a wrench in their plans. Derek can't ask Owen to choose, but he doesn't think he can take second place with his lover the way he always has with his family. Can they find a way to keep their romance standing?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Blurb

Sneak Peek

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

About the Author | By Ariel Tachna

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Copyright

Rebuild My Heart

By Ariel Tachna

Lexington Lovers

A love built to last.

When Derek Jackson is hired to renovate the LGBT bookstore that’s also Owen Hensley’s home, opposites attract. Derek is a big burly blue-collar guy, about ten years older than slight, sweet, and bookish Owen. As they spend time together, it becomes clear that each handsome outside leads to a beautiful interior. Far from the shy twink he appears, Owen has a rock-solid foundation that helped him put himself through college and start his own business. Behind Derek’s strong façade waits a tender heart that’s been battered by a rough family past—something Owen understands.

After Owen’s runaway nephew lands on his doorstep, it throws a wrench in their plans. Derek can’t ask Owen to choose, but he doesn’t think he can take second place with his lover the way he always has with his family. Can they find a way to keep their romance standing?

“You said you like the mac-n-cheese. Are you ordering that tonight, or do you want to be adventurous?”

Owen peeked up at him through his eyelashes. “I think I’m feeling a little adventurous.”

Derek smiled, hoping like hell he was reading this right and Owen wasn’t just talking about dinner options. He picked up his beer with his free hand and waited for Owen to do the same so he could tap them together.

“To being adventurous.”

To everyone who ever fell in love with a secondary character and needed his story too, and to Nicki, without whom none of my stories would be readable.

Chapter One

DEREK Jackson’s phone buzzed on his belt. He pulled off his work gloves, wiped his hands on the thick canvas of his cargo pants, and unclipped his cell to see a text from his boss and best friend, Thane Dalton.

New client, can’t get away. Take the initial meeting?

Derek resisted the urge to make a comment about marriage and married sex—once upon a time, Thane would have been the first in to work and the last to leave, before he had Blake to tempt him to linger in the mornings and come home early at night—but Thane would undoubtedly reply with more information than Derek really wanted to know. Blake, Thane’s husband, might have softened some of Thane’s rough edges, but not where his interactions with Derek were concerned.

Contact info? Derek texted back.

His phone buzzed again with the contact icon. He opened it and stared at the name. Hensley. Why was that name familiar? He couldn’t place it, but it would come to him or not. Either way, he had a client to contact. He hit the Call button and listened to the phone ring.

“Hensley’s Books.”

That was it. The bookstore down on Jefferson, the LGBT one Blake loved. Derek had never been in, mostly because he was too busy to have time for reading, but Blake never stopped insisting he should take a look. Now he’d have a chance.

“May I speak with Owen Hensley?” Derek asked.

“Speaking.” The man answered his own business’s number. Derek was impressed. He didn’t let himself notice what a nice voice Hensley had. That would be unprofessional.

“This is Derek Jackson with Dalton Construction, returning your call.”

“I was hoping to get an estimate. I have some work that needs to be done.”

“When are you available to meet?” Derek asked. An estimate was a routine request. Dalton Construction was the best, but not always the least expensive, and clients had to be comfortable with both quality and price.

“This afternoon after three or tomorrow before twelve. Or if that doesn’t work, I could see about getting my assistant to switch shifts with me tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there at three.” Derek was even more impressed now. Thane aside, he didn’t know many business owners who worked alongside their employees rather than supervising them. It would make it easier if he could hit it off with the client because Thane was swamped with the largest contract they’d ever received, giving a facelift to an eighty-unit apartment complex that had been bought out and was benefiting from downtown urban renewal. And that meant Derek would be the one handling whatever Hensley wanted done. He didn’t mind—he’d do anything for Dalton Construction. It might bear Thane’s name, but Derek had been right there beside him when they couldn’t afford more than minimal equipment and the time between contracts meant eating ramen noodles if they were lucky. He just hoped Hensley would play straight. The one thing Derek hated was people who jerked them around, trying to play companies against one another to get a better deal. Their initial bid was always as low as they could make it and still stay in business. They weren’t out to gouge anyone, just to make their own living.

AT precisely five minutes ’til three, Derek parked in front of Hensley’s Books on Jefferson Street, just down from Blake’s favorite wine bar. He smiled at the memory of the engagement party Blake had insisted they have at Enoteca. If he were the marrying kind, he’d be downright jealous, but his cheating father and homewrecker of a stepmother had cured him of that a long time ago. He quickly checked to make sure he had a pen along with his pad for notes and his graph paper so he could sketch the layout of the shop. Assured he had everything he needed for the upcoming meeting, he locked his truck and walked up the sidewalk to the old house that had been repurposed for the shop. The eaves had been repainted recently, probably in the past five years, but the concrete steps were crumbling in places. He made a mental note to address that with Hensley if he didn’t bring it up himself.

The front door had to be the original, with the unusual curved lintel. It was painted a bright, welcoming blue. Not quite Kentucky blue, but close. Another thing to check on. Did he want it UK blue? If so, Derek knew a good source for the university’s signature blue. He pushed the door open and walked inside to the cheerful chime of a bell. The big windows all along the front wall let in plenty of natural light, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room to the left, especially impressive with the twelve-foot ceilings. The shelves had to be custom-made. To the right, another room was set with several overstuffed armchairs in a grouping around a big fireplace—an actual wood fireplace, not a gas substitute. These walls were lined with the same tall bookshelves. Derek smiled at the welcoming ambience. He’d have to make sure to preserve that in the renovation plan. He wondered if Hensley had hired a designer or if this was his own work. If Hensley set it up himself, he had some talent for interior space, something Derek appreciated.

“Welcome to Hensley’s,” a female voice chirped. “If I can help you, just ask.”

“Derek Jackson. I have a meeting with Mr. Hensley,” he said, turning to look at the young woman. She had a bright smile to go along with multiple piercings on her lower lip and along her eyebrows. Her Technicolor hair was cut short on one side and fell almost to her shoulder on the other.

“He’s just finishing up with another meeting. I’ll let him know you’re here.” She gave him an appreciative once-over before walking back the way she had come.

Derek stepped into the sitting room and examined it critically. He could see the effort that had been put into making it a comfortable space—the cream walls with warm burgundy as an accent, the sheer curtains giving privacy from outside while still letting in plenty of light, the fireplace—but he also saw the poorly repaired cracks on either side of the stone chimney and the discolored patch at the seam between wall and ceiling where water had leaked in.

“You’re prompt, Mr. Jackson.”

Derek turned around slowly to take in his first sight of their new client. Hensley was a slip of a man, slender and only average in height, with the pinkest hair Derek had ever seen. It should have clashed with the sunshine-yellow sweater and skinny red jeans he was wearing, but somehow he made it work. “I don’t like it when people waste my time, so I do my best not to waste theirs, Mr. Hensley.” Derek pushed down the flare of interest, already simmering because of everything he’d observed of the shop so far, stoked even more by the attractive sight in front of him. Professional, Jackson. Keep it professional.

The man shuddered. “Please, call me Owen. Mr. Hensley is my father, and we’re all better off if he isn’t here.”

“I’m Derek.” He filed away the comment about Owen’s father for future reference—no family comments. He didn’t usually get personal with clients, but occasionally something would come up, and avoiding known landmines was always a good idea. And if things went well during the meeting—and hopefully the remodel—he might ask Owen out later. “My boss didn’t give me a lot of information. What are you hoping to have done?”

“The building itself is sound, or so I’ve been told,” Owen said. “The foundation is solid, the roof is only about three years old, but everything in between needs an overhaul. I can put on a fresh coat of paint, but that doesn’t fix the cracks or the leak around the window or the steps out front. And it doesn’t give me a bar with character for the café I’d like to add someday or authentic fixtures in the restrooms.”

Derek jotted notes on his pad. “Are you thinking just repairs and a visual overhaul, or are you looking at taking out walls and opening up more space?”

“I’ll be honest with you, Derek. I’m throwing myself on your mercy here. I know one end of a paintbrush from another, but I wouldn’t know what’s even possible as far as opening up space and the rest. I’ve always been more of an artist than a builder. I need more space if I’m going to accommodate my growing business, but I don’t want to lose the charm of the old house in the process.”

Derek nodded decisively and moved back to the entryway to examine the layout with a more critical eye. “Walk through the store with me. We’ll make two lists—one for things that have to be done like the steps or the window leak, and another for your dream shop. Then we’ll work up estimates for both, and we can figure out how to move forward based on that.”

“The steps outside for sure, and there’s a ramp out back to make us wheelchair accessible, but it’s ugly and inconvenient.”

Derek flipped to a new page and divided it into two columns. “Steps necessary, and I’ll see what we can do to improve the accessibility too without losing the original feel of the building.”

“Thank you. That’s been a concern.”

“We’ll leave the ramp out back to meet the legal requirements while we figure out the rest, but I’m sure we can come up with something better than what you already have. Anything else outside?”

“There’s a wood porch that gives access to the upstairs—the house was originally a duplex. The basement and the main floor were one unit, and the second floor and attic were the second. The units were combined sometime ago, but I live upstairs and use that entrance personally. I expect it to fall down every time I step on it.”

“We can either repair or replace it,” Derek said. “Is the basement finished?”

“No, although if it could be, I could live down there and open the second floor to the shop. Or move the office space up there and have the rest of the downstairs for display space.”

Derek pursed his lips as he considered the problem. Basements in old Lexington houses weren’t always designed to be dry, intended instead to keep the house proper from flooding, but there were ways around that. Sump pumps, additional drainage around the foundation, and more, and there were ways to decorate a basement to minimize the damage from any potential flooding. He’d put in more than one false floor in old basements so any water ran under them and out through the drain.

“Let’s take a look,” Derek suggested. “I can give you a better idea of your options after I see it.”

OWEN nodded and held the door marked Employees Only, trying not to stare at Derek’s ass cradled in well-worn jeans. He knew better than to let himself be attracted to a man like that, even though Derek was exactly Owen’s type. Men like Derek weren’t ever interested in men like him. He followed Derek into the kitchen, which did double duty for the shop and for his own needs. The second bedroom upstairs had plumbing for a kitchen, but it was all hidden behind plaster when the two units were combined into one. He’d have to ask Derek about putting in a basic kitchen in the basement if they were able to finish it. “The basement is this way.”

He went down the narrow unfinished stairs first, resisting the urge to glance back to see if Derek was checking him out in return. He wasn’t going down that road. He’d wasted enough time pining over a man he couldn’t have. He had too much respect for himself to do it again. When he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned back to look at Derek, he caught an appreciative smile. His cheeks burned, which he was sure was lovely with his pink hair. Oh well. Nothing he could do but brazen it out.

“Right now this is all storage except for the washer and dryer, the furnace, and the hot water heater.” He hoped Derek would focus on business and not on his blush, but it didn’t stop the slight stammer in his voice.

“So I see, but the ceilings are high enough we could put in a drop ceiling to hide the ducts and wires without making it too low for most people. It wouldn’t be the high ceilings you have upstairs, but this is a basement. It won’t get as hot down here. And it’s naturally divided into quadrants, so we could pretty easily section it off into a bedroom, bath, living area, and kitchen-slash-utility room if you want a private kitchen. Or if not, we could close in a utility room and make a larger living area.”

“How complicated would it be to include a kitchen?”

“Not complicated at all. That’s the advantage of starting with unfinished space. We don’t have to tear anything out to put in new wiring, plumbing, ducts, whatever. We’ll want to check the ductwork down here, make sure it’ll be warm enough in the winter. I don’t imagine it’ll be a problem in the summer. Basements tend to stay cool even on the hottest days.”

Owen considered for a moment. “Put it on the wish list. It would make health department visits easier if I had a separate kitchen, but price is a consideration.”

He owed his ex, Leroy, one final payment from when he’d put in the bookcases upstairs. He could get a small-business loan to cover the renovations, but he wasn’t sure how much they’d give him.

Derek nodded. “Mind if I take a few measurements? It’ll be easier to give an accurate estimate that way.”

“Of course.”

“Owen, I need you upstairs for a customer,” Mel called.

Owen grimaced. “Excuse me a minute, Derek. Mel does a great job at the register, but she doesn’t know our stock the way I do.”

“Go ahead. I’ll take the measurements down here and come back up to meet you so we can look at the rest of the first floor as well as the upstairs.”

Owen climbed back up to the kitchen, trying to remember what state he’d left his bedroom in. He hadn’t planned on having anyone up there today. First, though, he had to help the customer.

He pasted on his best smile and walked into the sitting area. When he saw Brent Carpenter, his smile relaxed into something much more real. “Hey, Brent. Mel said you needed help?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Akshat. He’s looking for a specific book, and we can’t figure out what it is. Nav says he never had time to read for pleasure, and both Mel and I are sure we’ve read it, but we can’t figure it out.”

“What’s he looking for?”

“All he can remember is it’s about a boy, maybe a bit of wizards, magic, that sort of thing, and King Arthur. Not a lot to go on, I know.”

Owen laughed. “No, it’s not. Did he come in with you?”

“No, he’s at the humane society today. He was convinced you’d know what book it was, though. Oh, he said something about signs.”

“The Dark Is Rising,” Owen said. “The main character is the Seeker, tasked with finding the six signs created to hold back the Dark until Bran can break their power for good.”

Brent laughed. “Your memory is something else. I could never keep track of books the way you do.”

“I couldn’t keep track of people or houses the way you do. I took your advice and called Dalton Construction for a bid on the remodel.”

“Oh, good. When are they coming out to take a look?”

“Actually that’s what I was doing when Mel called me to help you.”

“Thane’s here?”

“No, Derek Jackson.”

“I’ll have to say hello before I leave. You can’t do better than them, even if someone comes in with a lower bid. That just means they’re cutting corners, not that you’re getting a better deal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Brent had helped Owen find the house when he’d decided to set up the bookstore, and they’d stayed in touch ever since. Owen wasn’t quite ready to call them friends, but Brent had never steered him wrong. “Let me see if we have that book for Akshat. If not, we can order it and it’ll be here in a few days. It’s part of a series, by the way. We had an omnibus edition, but it was a special promo, and I’m pretty sure we sold the last copy.”

“That’s okay. I’ll take the one you mentioned so we can make sure it’s the right series, and then we can get the rest.”

Owen walked back to the Teen Fiction section and searched the shelves until he found the book Brent was looking for. “I just have the one. If it’s what Akshat is looking for, I can order the others. Just let me know. You don’t have to come back in. Just call and tell Mel or me that you want the rest of the series.”

“Will do. Can I go through and say hi to Derek?”

“Sure, if you want to.” Owen trailed behind Brent as he walked into the kitchen. Derek reappeared from the basement and smiled when he saw Brent—not the professional smile he’d given Owen when they met or the appreciative one from downstairs, but a real one.

“Brent, what are you doing here?”

“I wouldn’t shop for books anywhere else,” Brent replied. “I hear you’re going to do a remodel for Owen.”

“We’re going to put together a bid,” Derek demurred.

Owen appreciated him not taking Owen’s business for granted, but with Brent’s endorsement ringing in his ears, he’d have to be seriously impressed with someone else to accept a different offer. Although he could deal without having the distracting Derek Jackson around all the time. He’d never be lucky enough for Derek to be gay, and even if he was, he’d never look twice at shy little Owen Hensley.

Chapter Two

OWEN walked Derek to the door. “Thank you again for coming out so quickly and spending so much time listening both to what I need and what I want. Not everyone would be as willing to take the time you have.”

“All part of the service,” Derek replied with that confounded smile that melted Owen’s insides. “We’ll be in touch in a day or two with the estimates.”

Derek offered Owen his hand. Owen braced himself for the contact and shook it, grip firm but not bone-crushing. He knew what people expected from him when they saw his hair and his choice of clothes. They pegged him as queer and expected some limp-wristed, fingers-only handshake, but Owen knew how to shake hands. Derek returned it with an equally firm grip but no contest of wills, just a smile and a nod and a casual bye tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door. It swung shut behind him as Owen sagged against the nearest bookcase.

“Owen? You okay there?”

He looked up at Mel, sure his expression gave away his internal turmoil. “I don’t know.”

Mel snorted. “You’re funny. He was nice.”

Far too nice for Owen’s peace of mind. “He was, and Brent couldn’t recommend his company highly enough, which means we’ll probably be seeing a lot of him this summer. What am I going to do?”

“Enjoy the eye candy?” Mel proposed.

Owen laughed. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Seriously, though, I don’t know as many people as Brent does, but I’ve never heard anyone complain about Dalton Construction, and they’re a local company, which is one of your big things. The owner got married not too long ago. They had a big party at Enoteca. Darian told me all about it.”

“I hope he and his wife are very happy,” Owen said automatically.

Mel’s grin widened. “You mean he and his husband.”

Owen blinked a couple of times. “Wait, husband? You’re telling me the owner of Dalton Construction is gay?”

“I don’t know if he’s gay or bi—I’ve never met him—but he’s definitely married to a man,” Mel replied. “If nothing else, you know Derek’s no homophobe, or he wouldn’t be the foreman there.”

That hadn’t really been Owen’s concern after the looks he’d caught Derek giving him once or twice, but it was still good to know. “We’re assuming Derek will be the one overseeing the job if I decide to take their bid.”

“Even if he’s not, the same thing applies. A man who’s comfortable enough with himself to marry another man isn’t going to employ people who are homophobic, which means if you do go with Dalton Construction, you don’t have to worry about anyone being stupid or making a scene.”

It was an intangible, but Owen didn’t discount those. He’d spent enough time uncomfortable around others because of his sexuality. He didn’t want to feel that way in his own shop. One more reason to seriously consider the bid from Dalton Construction.

DEREK tossed the folder onto Thane’s desk and flopped down into the chair. “I swear to God I’d kill for a fucking cool front. It was miserable out there today, and tomorrow’s supposed to be even worse.”

“Then this will be good news,” Thane said. “We got the contract for Hensley’s Books. You can work in the air-conditioned comfort of his bookstore for a while.”

“Which bid did he take? The minimum one or the wish-list one?” Derek asked.

“The wish-list one.”

“Interesting,” Derek replied. “He told me price was a definite consideration, so I didn’t expect him to go with the full bid. Not that I’m complaining. Can we spare a team from the apartment rehab long enough for the wish-list bid?”

“I told him it would be a multistage process until we finish another contract and can give you a bigger team. He wasn’t thrilled, but he understood.”

“He’s not a pushover, but he’s not what I expected either. He’s young to be a business owner, and—” He searched for the right word. “—shy, almost. How do you own your own retail business and stay shy?”

“You pick something you love enough that you’ll deal with strangers to do it. You wanna take the boys with you? They’re usually pretty good at drawing people out of their shells,” Thane offered.

“Just warn them not to imitate his fashion sense? I know they’re theater kids, but there is such a thing as too out-there,” Derek said with a smile at the thought of Owen’s style. He still didn’t know how Owen had made that particular color combination work.

“They’re old enough and established enough to make those decisions for themselves. It’s not like they haven’t dealt with bullies before.”

“There’s dealing with bullies, and then there’s inviting negative attention. You’ve managed to keep them from getting the reputations we had.”

“You mean Blake’s managed to keep them from it,” Thane replied.

“Fine, Blake has managed it, but there’s no reason to tempt fate now. They have one year left before they graduate.”

“They still need something to do this summer. Are you going to take them with you, or should I keep them on my team?”

“We can share them, depending on whether I have anything they can help with. A lot of the stuff will be one- or two-man jobs.”

“There you go. Two men.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You just don’t want to listen to Kit talk about his new boyfriend all summer.”

“If Hensley is worried about our attitude, Kit is the perfect way to smooth that over. And if not, then he’s still a good pair of hands with the grunt work. And Phillip can do pretty much anything but the electrical work.”

It was a damn good thing Derek liked Thane. Otherwise he’d accuse Thane of foisting his problems off on him.

DEREK’S phone vibrated on his belt. He glanced at the number to see his brother Brian calling. He hesitated for a moment before answering. He loved his brother, but he really wasn’t in the mood for the family drama that accompanied a call from him. Then again, it was listen to it now or listen to it later compounded by not being there now.

“Hi, Bri.”

“Fucking hell, Derek. This is the last straw.”

“What did the wicked witch do this time?” Derek’s parents had divorced when he was ten, and his father had remarried almost before the ink on the divorce decree was dry. Marlene, his stepmother, had his father wrapped around her little finger, but she’d made his and his brother’s lives hell from the moment she moved in.

“She ran Paula off.”

Derek sank back against the cushions of his couch with a smothered groan. Family drama, check.

“I thought you two were getting pretty serious.”

“So did I. I wouldn’t have made her meet Marlene otherwise. I figure if it’s not serious, it’s not worth dealing with her, but anyone who’s going to stick around is going to meet her eventually.”

Derek understood. He didn’t have the best track record with relationships—his father certainly wasn’t the role model he intended to follow—but he’d learned a long time ago that no one he brought home, male or female, would ever meet Marlene’s standards. “What did she do?”

“What didn’t she do? From the moment we walked in the door, it was all ‘What an… interesting color’ and ‘That’s quite a lot of cleavage for a family gathering’ and ‘You do know Brian is just a car salesman’ and ‘Oh, you’re a preschool teacher, and you wear clothes like that.’ God, she is such a bitch. I make a perfectly good living, and Paula is amazing with her kids, and what she wears on a date has nothing to do with what she wears to work.”

“She could be the president of her own company and Marlene would find a way to nitpick. Then it would be something about how she could do so much better than you. You know better than to put any stock in anything she says.”

“I know, and you know, but Paula isn’t used to that kind of shit. She was in tears by the time we left. Before dinner. I offered to take her out somewhere nice instead, but she just made me take her home and wouldn’t let me come up with her.”

“Give her some time. Let her calm down and sleep on it. Call her tomorrow and talk to her then. Marlene’s opinion doesn’t make any difference to us. You know that. Tell her you won’t be able to get out of a few family gatherings a year, but she doesn’t have to come, and the rest of the time it’s just you two and maybe me on occasion. I promise I won’t act like Marlene.”

Brian choked back a laugh, but that had been Derek’s goal, so he smiled as he waited for Brian to relax.

“Of all the things I might worry about, you acting like her is not one of them. Thanks, Derek. I’ll call Paula tomorrow and hopefully things will be better.”

“Better to know now how much Paula can take. As long as Dad is alive, we’re stuck with her.”

“We won’t get rid of her even then. She’ll use Preston as a reason to keep fucking with us.”

Their younger half brother was the apple of Marlene’s eye. And Derek’s father had instilled enough sense of responsibility in Derek and Brian where Preston was concerned that walking away from him completely would end up feeling like a betrayal of what family meant.

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much.”

“Call Paula tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”

“It’d go better if you bring someone home and distract Marlene.”

Derek snorted. “I’d have to meet someone first.” A vision of Owen flitted across his mind, but he pushed it aside. Owen was a customer, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be interested in someone like Derek. He’d want someone closer to his own age and education level. Derek wasn’t ashamed of what he and Thane had built, but he’d heard enough diatribes from Marlene to know how his lack of higher education looked to others.

“Better get on that, then. Bring a guy home again. That’ll fuck with her good.”

“I’m not going to subject some poor guy to Marlene just to take the heat off you and Paula. If I meet someone, guy or girl, I’ll think about it, but for now, you’re on your own.”

“Fuck you very much,” Brian said with a laugh.

Derek would take it. If he was laughing, he wasn’t crying into his beer. “Call me after you talk with Paula and let me know how it goes?”

“I will. Bye, Derek.”

“Bye, Brian.”

Derek set his phone down on the cushions next to him and tried not to think about Brian or Marlene or the mess that was his family life. At least he could retreat to Thane’s when he needed a little normalcy. He snorted at what Marlene would say about Blake and Thane and normal. He almost wished he had a reason to introduce her to Blake. She might actually meet her match in him, except Derek liked him too much to subject him to Marlene’s brand of passive-aggressiveness. He dragged himself off the couch and into the shower. He needed to sleep tonight because tomorrow they started at the bookstore.

He was tempted to jerk off while he was in the shower, but he didn’t trust his thoughts, and no way he was going in to the bookstore for the first day of a new project with the memory of jerking off to images of Owen Hensley. He’d rather deal with blue balls.

Chapter Three

DEREK pounded on the door of Thane’s house at six o’clock the next morning. He wasn’t worried about waking Thane, and Blake was out of town at a conference. Kit opened the door a moment later, looking only half-awake. “Do we really have to leave this early?”

“We have to go by Congleton to pick up lumber and Chevy Chase Hardware to get all the plumbing and wires we’ll need to start the project, and Hensley expects us at the bookstore at a reasonable time to start working so he can get us inside and going before he opens for business.”

“We could meet you there.”

“Nope, you’re a part of this team, which means you go to work when I do and come home when I’m done.”

Kit grumbled under his breath as he pulled on his work boots and shouted for Phillip to hurry his ass up. Derek bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Even if he hadn’t known Blake wasn’t home, that would have been a dead giveaway. The boys never cussed when Blake could hear them.

Derek headed back out to his truck. They’d join him in a minute, and while he was waiting, he could gulp down some more coffee. He might have accepted the early mornings as part of the job, but that didn’t mean he liked them any more than the boys did. A few minutes later, they came stumbling out the door, looking like a pair of puppies tripping over feet too big for their bodies. Derek kept expecting them to catch up with their growth, but they hadn’t stopped yet. They’d be taller than Thane in a matter of months. They’d passed Blake a year ago.

“How are you with plumbing, Phillip?” Derek asked when they piled into the truck.

Phillip groaned. “Please don’t make me do plumbing. I’ll lay tile or frame walls or hang drywall, but I hate plumbing.”

Derek laughed. “How about I teach you how to string electrical wires instead? They won’t be live, so it’s perfectly safe, and you can get a sense of the connections. I know Thane said you hadn’t started with wiring yet, but there’s no reason you can’t learn now.”

“We talked about electrical conductivity and circuits and stuff in physics last year,” Kit chimed in. “This’ll be awesome.”

Derek laughed despite himself. When he’d first met Thane’s boys, he’d pegged Kit as the artistic one and Phillip as the more down-to-earth one, but Kit had surprised them with his knack for all things scientific. Phillip would undoubtedly take over Dalton Construction one day, but for Kit, the sky was the limit as long as science was involved.

They picked up their orders at Congleton Lumber and Chevy Chase Hardware with minimal fuss and arrived at the bookstore a little before eight. Kit bounded ahead of them to knock on the door. Derek shook his head. Thane might have been right. Kit’s enthusiasm for life could win over even the coldest fish. Owen didn’t stand a chance.

“Hi, I’m Kit Parkins. We’re here for the rehab.”

Derek smothered a grin at Owen’s confused look. Kit had that effect on people.

“We’ve got lumber and other supplies to unload,” Derek said, taking pity on Owen. “Should we pull around back and bring it in through the garage?”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

Derek tossed Phillip his keys. “Pull the truck around, Phillip. I’ll be down in a minute to help you unload. Kit, go around back and help your brother.”

“Sure thing, Derek,” Kit chirruped and bounced back down the front steps to where Phillip was waiting next to the truck.