Page 95 of Major Love

Last night was without a doubt the best date that I’ve ever had, even if it was a day after Valentine’s and I had to DIY us a make-shift cinema.

And I can’t deny that I love the fact that Sunday liked that even more, the fact that it was just the two of us out there, and she had me all to herself.

I step out onto the shower mat, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from smiling. I grab a towel and scrub it over my hair, barely able to make out my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. It’s just a haze of wide shoulders and tan skin as I drag the towel down my chest.

I finish drying off, then head to the en suite’s adjoining bedroom, grabbing my boxers from the dresser and dragging them up my quads as I glance around for my phone.

I must have left my work cell on the kitchen counter last night, and my personal cell will likely be down there, too.

I hitch up my pants, pull down my shirt, and then grab my belt from the dresser, sliding the leather through the loops as I make my way out of the master bedroom.

My eyes instinctively glance toward the door next to mine, and I grunt out a low curse when I see that Sunday left it wide open.

My chest rises unsteadily as I flick a look inside her room, and then I’m pausing for a half-second – because she’s still wearingmy damn sweater.

I avert my eyes so quickly you’d think that her brother had caught me looking, and then I’m half-jogging down the stairs so that I can’t do anything stupid.

Just a couple more hours and then you can ask her where we stand,I think to myself as I get the coffee-maker going. Then I’m clicking the power buttons on both of my cells and sighing quietly when I see the unending list of notifications.

Because last night’s snowfall? Yeah, it’s fucked up our plans.

But after years of running Coleson Contruction in Phoenix Falls, I’m so used to this shit that I can’t help but breathe out a laugh.

Some guys are telling me that they’re too snowed-in to head out, other guys are telling me that they’ll head to their respectivesites early. Then I’ve got Halle, one of the women in town, asking if I can head over to her place and fix up a snow-damaged porch.

But it’s Mitch’s text from four minutes ago that has my biceps flexing as I pick up my phone.

My brother and I hardly ever text each other and, when we do, they’re pretty much exclusively about work. So hearing from him now tells me that this job is going to be a killer.

I tap his name on my personal phone, leaving the work cell in front of me so that I can watch as more texts filter in from the guys.

And the second that he picks up I’m asking, “What d’you mean, ‘roof problems’?”

Two words that you don’t want to hear as a construction worker when you’ve had a night full of snow?

The word ‘roof’,followed by the word ‘problems’.

There’s a growling sound on his end of the line, like he’s sighing as hard as I am. “We can handle it, no problem. But I don’t have the equipment for it at my place.”

I nod even though he can’t see me and cast a quick look toward my living room. I scan it to see if I’ve got a spare sweater lying around, seeing as the one that I usually wear is currently getting snuggled up in my guest room.

“What do we need?” I ask, grabbing a pull-over from the side of the armchair.

“Like, fifty fucking tiles?” he says, his deep voice rasping with exasperation. “It’s the damn diner, man, and Peyton’s freaking the hell out. She messaged Harper this morning and thenshewas freaking out, and…” He trails off with a rough exhale, but he’s my brother so I know what he’s thinking.

If his fiancée is distressed because her friend is in trouble, then Mitch isn’t waiting another minute before jumping to the rescue.

“We should grab more tiles than that,” I tell him, opening the door to the back porch as quietly as possible. Then I haul open the garage and grab as much shit as I think we’ll need. “If it looks like fifty tiles need replacing, by the time that we get up there I bet there’ll be at least another thirty that need re-doing.”

Since I started my company, most of the town square has been fixed up by my team, but the diner was one of the only joints that seemed to stand as a testament to its original construction. But after decades of rough weather, I’m not surprised that the old tiles finally need replacing – although it does make me pause, as I realise that my gear isn’t going to look the same as what they had before.

“Shit.” I glance down at the box of tiles, picking up one of the pieces before setting it carefully back into place. “If we do this, it’s not gonna be in keeping with the old ones. I don’t even know what colour they’ve got up there,” I admit, heaving the box under my bicep.

I hold my cell between my ear and shoulder as I lock up the garage and head back to the house.

“Black according to Peyton, but who the fuck cares? No-one pays attention to the roof because no-one can see it unless they’re up there.”

He’s right – most people don’t see the minor details of a project unless they were involved with it from the inside.

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