Page 73 of Small Town Firsts
“I know it isn’t much yet. It’s a rent-to-buy. I haven’t decided if I’m sticking or not.”
“Yeah?” Kain looked around the property.
I was mostly too tired to notice when I came home, but looking around now I winced. A forest of pine trees, a few other types of deciduous trees, and a handful of pathetic shrubs was the extent of the landscaping. Pine needles had choked out most of the grass and were currently trying to eat the picnic table decaying on the side of the house.
“Guess I came just in time. It needs a lot of work.”
“Was better than a doublewide—which were most of my other options if I didn’t want to live in an apartment complex.”
Kain clomped across the deck with a grunt. He spotted the cooler and flipped the lid. “Hopefully this will make up for your lack of landscaping and charm.”
I snorted. Kain took houses very seriously. He might own a construction empire, but he was an architect first and the way ahouse looked was very important to him. I imagined he would have a lot to say about the inside of my place too.
He used one of his chunky silver rings to pop the top on the bottle and flicked it into the unlit fire pit. He took a long swallow, then looked down at the bottle, back to me, and took another long sip. “Not yours.”
I barked out a laugh. I had no idea how he knew that. “No, that’s not my blend.”
“Decent though. Yours will be better.”
Friend until the end, that was Kain.
He finished off the bottle and set it by the cooler. “Food and shower is next, bud.”
“You get in the shower, and I’ll reheat the food.”
He hiked his saddle bag more firmly onto his shoulder and ducked through the sliding door. “Fuck, who built this place?”
I followed him in and nudged him along. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I got some rent knocked down because I said I was handy.”
Kain shot a look over his shoulder. “Hope it’s under a grand a month.”
“Squeaked under.”
He muttered something in Hawaiian. “There’s that at least.”
“Top of the stairs, you can use my shower. It’s bigger than the one in the hallway for the other bedrooms.”
“Mahalo.”
The stairs groaned with his weight, but I relaxed when I heard the water running. Something was up with him. The bravado was there as it always was. You couldn’t be a damn billionaire like he was without it, but something seemed heavy around him.
I popped the chicken into my air fryer and made up plates with the cold sides. And because not much changed when itcame to Kain’s appetite, I used two plates for him—and hell, for me too. I’d need the help against the alcohol coming my way.
Drinking in my mid-thirties was hella different than my twenties.
Kain came back downstairs a few minutes later wearing only a pair of board shorts and a towel wrapped around his head. I suppose I was lucky he was wearing anything. The guy hated clothes even more than I did. “You need a bigger shower.”
“Most people aren’t 6’5”.”
He only grunted. “Do I smell fried chicken?”
“You do.” I pulled out the tray and transferred the perfectly reheated food. The grease actually made it taste better thanks to the magic of the air fryer.
He clapped his pitcher mitt sized hands together. “Hot damn.” He did a little shuffle dance to me and took two of the plates. “Almost enough for me.”
I laughed and shoved a bottle of water in the pockets of my ancient cargo shorts before I followed him with my own two plates and some silverware.
Kain was already sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs, his long legs kicked out, feet bare, and food in his mouth.
