Page 41 of Six
I pull a key out of my jacket and open one of the loading dock doors.
“It was used to store pencils, but after the factory closed many years ago, it just remained empty.” I easily push the shutter all the way up, reminding myself I need to change them out with electrical ones.
“So, what does the owner want to do with it now?” He seems really curious about it.
“A library slash café.” We step through the dock door and walk inside a large space. Big tall windows take up almost all the walls, there are large columns on each side of the room, and the ceiling is covered in pipes and metal beams. There are some old, empty crates on one side, a table with the blueprints of the building, and some tools we will need for the renovation.
“That sounds like a lot of work.” He whistles, looking around at the dusty, bare room. “But it’s a good investment.”
I want to smile at the confidence filling his words. Uri said the same thing. He’s given me some pointers since he opened quite a few restaurants.
Ollie nods as he talks. “This area is improving quickly; opening a new business around here will definitely provide some profit.”
“I hope so, since the building is mine.”
His head snaps my way, like my statement caught him by surprise. “Yours?” But he seems to shake the shock off quickly. “Then I can’t slack on the job, can I?”
“Why, did you intend to slack off?” I give him a severe stare that usually makes people take a step back, but he just snorts.Snorts!
Making a slow spin to take the whole room in, he sees the old shutter lift at the far end. “How many floors up?”
“Two more. The building is in good condition. The foundation is solid. I just need to change a few things and check some others. But the result could be better than I anticipated.”
“Oh, I can clearly see that.”
The area around the warehouse is kind of residential. But the main street has a few shops and business establishments, and there’s a university four blocks away, which guarantees starving customers at all hours of the day and evening.
I suddenly feel excited about it. I bought this building as an investment, sure, but the truth is that I like renovating places. It keeps my mind and body busy. Apart from my house, I usually do it for other people. Here, I have carte blanche and can work however I like. It’s kind of freeing.
“Where do you want me?” His words would sound pretty innocent if he didn’t smirk knowingly at me. Such a sassy little thing.
I smother my smile. “Grab a pair of gloves from the table and put them on. I want to knock down that partition wall, but we need to move all that crap on the other side of the room first.” I point at the old cardboard, pieces of metal, and crates along the wall.
Ollie takes off my bomber jacket and the flannel shirt before putting on the gloves. He’s now wearing only his pink tank top and his jeans, and his back muscles ripple through the fabric as he starts to pick up boxes and carry them across the room. Some of those crates, even though empty, weigh a lot, but he lifts them without complaint. He’s completely recovered, and relief settles inside of me at the thought.
Soon, his skin is glistening with a layer of sweat, and the long dark locks that escaped the ponytail look damp near the hairline. It’s not his angular jaw that makes him look tough and weathered, it’s more a vibe coming off of him. Like his feisty attitude was hard-earned by a rough life.
He used to work at the recycling plant near West Garfield Park—a legit operation. He could have found a shady job—God knows his father could have easily hooked him up—they definitely pay more than loading fertilizer bags on the back of a truck. Ollie chose the hard way, which kept him strong. All of that lifting certainly helped him maintain all that lean muscle. He’s a work of art.
I watch him as he works, while I do the same at a slower pace, too intent on checking on him. I feel his eyes on my body at times, and I flex my biceps and tighten my pecs under my tight t-shirt just to give him a better show.
After a while, we are done, and I push a yellow helmet on his head and tell him to wear the flannel shirt again. Splinters and pieces of plaster could cut his skin when we start tearing down the wall.
“Grab the sledgehammer,” I tell him. But he doesn’t make a move. He just stares at the tools lined up on the table.
“The big-ass hammer with the long grey handle and flat head,” I deadpan, wiping some sweat from my forehead.
He lifts it, one hand rubbing the black metal head. “This reminds me of something,” he says, glancing at my groin. I sigh loudly, pretending not to be affected by his flirty words. If he keeps teasing me like this, my hammer will definitely give his hole a pounding.
I hand him a pair of goggles and push mine into my back pocket. I take the electric jackhammer with one hand and a thirty-six-inch crowbar with the other, and walk to the long partition wall as Ollie follows.
“This all has to come down. The café’s back kitchen will be here, and the counter there.” I point while he listens with interest. “Go at it.”
“Just like that? No instructions?”
“Hit as hard as you can.”
He smiles. I can see he’s eager to start, and who wouldn’t be at the prospect of breaking shit?
