Page 11 of Solid Foundation
“Do you have something to share with the class?”
I grinned. “Met a hot construction guy today.”
“Do tell.”
“Do you want the story about this box or the guy?”
Sterling tilted his head for a second while he thought about it—or at least feigned consideration. “The guy, obviously.”
I sat down next to him, toeing off my shoes and shoving them aside while I told Sterling everything I’d learned about Jake that day. When I was finished, I summed it up neatly. “Grumpy construction worker, but super hot. That cancels out, right?” Sterling raised his eyebrows in a look that said,Do you really want me to answer that?I chose to ignore it and continued. “Of course it does. The problem is, he’s theforeman. We’re going to be working side-by-side on this whole damned project.”
“Sucks to be you. At least he’ll distract you from the long hours? I don’t know. Okay, tell me about the box.”
My chest constricted and I felt suddenly, weirdly protective over the letters. “A project for work. I’ll tell you more when I know more.” Sterling scoffed and I shrugged. “I know, I know, I said I’d tell you, but it might be nothing, and I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up.”
“Youdoknow I’m at least marginally involved in your actual job, right?”
“Hey, a man’s gotta havesomesecrets.” I picked up the box and pulled it close. “I promise, if it’s anything worth knowing about, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
“Oneof the first?”
I shrugged. “Secrets. Now, did we bring any of that Cabernet with us? You know, from that winery we both liked?”
He turned back to the TV and pressed play again. “I don’t know, but if we do and you drink it all, I’m going to call your mom myself and tell her to come get you out of my house.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I called as I headed into the kitchen. “We both know you hate her as much as I do.”
Once I was settled in my room with the letters and my wine, I took a seat at my desk and started to read. The story was one-sided, of course, since I couldn’t read Nathan’s letters to Freddie, but the basic concept was evident. Young, gay love in the nineteen twenties. The letters spanned several years, and eventually they just… tapered off. When I was done, I was half-drunk, very much in love with Freddie myself, and brimming with sadness.
I had so many questions. How had they met? Besides homophobia, had there been a reason they couldn’t be together? What had happened to them, to their love? Was there more to the story?
I racked my brain for ideas on how to get answers. It took me too long in my wine-addled state to think about the library.Maybe the library will know something. Or at least have some resources.My librarian grandmother would have been appalled that it took me so long to think of it, but once it hit me, I could hardly wait to get to researching after work. I just had to make it through being in close proximity with Jake for a full day first.
I took one last sip of my wine before tucking the letters back into their original box and stowing it in the bottom drawer of my desk. One day of handling Jake and I could get to the library and start researching. I could definitely make that work. Right?
Chapter Seven
Jake
Day one of production was an all-hands day, with every team member we had available on site for the demolition work. Basically, anyone who worked for Hayes and who could make themselves available was on site to clean out the leftover furniture, rip up damaged flooring, pull down rotting siding and trim, or anything else we could think of to get the Collins house back to a blank slate. I’d anticipated spending my day doing backbreaking labor, and I’d dressed the part. I was wearing my utilitarian steel-toe boots, along with jeans and a Hayes T-shirt, my hardhat squarely in hand and gloves tucked into my back pocket.
To my surprise, though, Max had snagged me the moment I’d arrived, pulled me into the production trailer that had been delivered overnight, and peppered me with his ideas.Lotsof ideas. While I had guys busting their asses in the scorching heat, I was trapped in the production trailer, close enough to smell Max’s soap, making me lightheaded. I was sweating despite the frigid air being pumped out of the window unit.
There was something about Max that made my gut squirm. He was enthusiastic, I’d give him that, but he was also young—about ten years younger than me, if I’d had to guess. His easy confidence giving the crew their marching orders, the quick smile on his full lips, and his lean, muscled body—the heat was really getting to me already.
“Jake?” Max furrowed his brow.
I blinked and refocused my attention on his words. Not his mouth. Clearly. “Sorry. Repeat that?”
“How many days for demo?”
“Oh. Uh… probably just two or three, with all the folks we have out here today.”
He nodded. “Good, because the dumpster for the debris is blocking my shot.”
I scowled. Where did he expect us to discard of the debris, if not in a dumpster? “Guess you’ll have to work around it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck briefly before typing something into his phone. When he was done, he looked up at me, that easy smile on his face again. “We’ll make it work, but Micah, the set designer, is going to have a coronary.”
