Page 7 of Ghost's Obsession

“I’ll probably be doing most of the labor myself. My club brothers will probably want to pitch in, and I can call up half a dozen men at a moment’s notice for general labor along the way. I shouldn’t have to pay for delivery because the prospects from my club will pick up materials and unload them wherever we tell them to. Outside of that, I have almost all the equipment we’ll need. My father left me his when he passed, but I haven’t had a minute to pick it up. Will that put me in the ballpark?”

“Yeah, if you have the kind of resources you’ve mentioned and you and your friends are willing to do the lion’s share of the labor yourselves, I think we can make that number work,” I tell him.

Ghost’s expression perks up. “Are you being serious? You think that’s really doable for under fifty grand?”

“Yeah, I think we can come really close to the fifty grand budget you mentioned.”

“That would be really great,” he says, relief etched on every inch of his face.

I speak up to sweeten the deal. “I’m between leases,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I enjoy the hands-on stuff almost more than sitting behind a desk drawing floor plans. If you let me stay on site, I’ll help you with the renovations for ten bucks an hour, cash.”

His eyes fly open. “That’s low. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”

I tell him carefully, “I’m not concerned about the money so much. I just like being hands-on with my renovations, and the hotel I’m staying at is stifling.”

Ghost looks at me for a long, hard moment, his gaze assessing. I know the deal I’m offering is kind of out of pocket, and not the sort of thing I would usually propose to a new client. But there’s something different about Ghost and it would solve a huge problem for me.

“You sure about this offer?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m used to living on work sites. I’d be available for the structural engineer’s visit and for all the inspections. It would save you from taking time off your day job to meet with inspectors and such.”

“I don’t know how I feel about having you in what is essentially a shed. My mom would skin me alive for not inviting you to stay in the house. I’ve got five fuckin’ bedrooms. Bet one of ‘em would suit you.”

I snort a laugh. “No offense, but you’re still a complete stranger wearing a biker cut. My mom would skin me alive if I took you up on that deal. She’d be terrified of me ending up being featured on aDatelineepisode.”

His mouth twitches into an almost smile. “We could always give them each other’s numbers and let them fight it out between themselves.”

I laugh at the thought of our mothers fighting it out. “Trust me, the garage is fine,” I tell him. “I’ve got a cot in my truck, a travel camp stove, and my own supplies. If you clear a corner for me and run a power strip, I’ll be good.”

He looks towards the garage, then back at me. “Alright,” he says finally. “But if you change your mind, just come into the house and pick a bedroom, alright?”

“Alright,” I say, thinking to myself that it’ll never happen in a million years. When we shake on the deal, his hand is warm, rough, and calloused. The contact lasts a second too long, but neither of us pulls away too fast. When our hands part, I turn towards my truck, flipping the sketchpad shut.

I get into my truck and tell him, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. The hotel’s not far. I just need to pack up and check out.”

He nods, looking like he’s none too happy about putting me in less-than-generous lodging. “I’ll get to work cleaning out a place for you to set up your cot.”

I pull the door to my truck shut and look at him through the open window. He’s still standing there, hands on his hips, staring at me like he doesn’t know what else to say to convince me to stay in the house with him. I realize it probably makes him feel like I think he’s untrustworthy or psycho. I don’t know what to say to make him feel better about the situation either.

When he doesn’t say anything, I just pull away, glancing back at him in the rear-view mirror as I drive off.

***

I make short work of packing up my stuff and signing out of the hotel. Pulling out of the parking lot feels great, like I’m finally moving my life forward in a new and better direction. Truth be told, my hot new employer isn’t taking advantage of me. Not at all. If anything, I’m having it all my own way. I’ve got a good-paying job designing the renovations, a free place to stay, and forty hours of weekly pay at ten bucks an hour. In my book, this is a fantastic deal. I turn on the radio to a country channel and enjoy the ride back to my new temporary home.

By the time I get back two hours later, the garage looks very different. Ghost has pulled out most of the junk, old tools, and rotten plywood, and stacked them into a burn pile out back. He’s hooked up a large attic fan and placed it in a window to pull out all the stale air and dust. He’s got a shop vac and is in the process of vacuuming up all the sawdust. He’s also set up a folding table along one wall, freshly wiped down. There’s a drip coffee maker, snack box, cooler with water bottles, and a neatly folded wool blanket and pillow. He’s run an extension cord wound along the floor from the main house, feeding a plug strip that now powers a shop light and a small space heater.

He doesn’t say much when I step inside. He just gestures at the setup and ducks out of the garage. I get the feeling he still isn’t happy with me staying in the garage, but he’s done everything he can think of to make me comfortable. And that tells me everything I need to know about the kind of man he is.

Looking around, I decide it’s not a fancy setup. But it’s enough for me in this moment.

Chapter 3

Ghost

Today’s the big reveal. The day Heather delivers on her promise of amazing floor plans for my accessory dwelling. She taught me that’s a fancy way of saying garage renovation.Shit, I’m becoming more enamored with this woman by the fuckin’ minute. I normally hold back for a bit—used to women running out on me. But Heather’s different. While she’s been working on the perfect floor plan, I’ve been prepping the garage for the renovation. She’s nice, talkative, and engaged when we’re together.

Most women just want to ride my cock and run away. They like the experience of being with someone they see as a bad boy, without the risk of having a real relationship. It’s the complete opposite with Heather. She doesn’t seem interested in my cock—she actually seems to enjoy my company. Do I wish shewasinterested in my cock? Yeah, of course I do. Any man would. But am I gonna wave it in her face and flirt with her all the time? No. That’d be all kinds of disrespectful. She’s here as my designer, not as a potential date, and to think of her in any other way is just plain wrong. Even if she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen with a fantastic sense of humor.

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