Page 20 of Spark
Thesoundsofhammersand drills and my crew chatting plays like a backbeat to my thoughts of Finlay and our date. The scent of coffee fills the kitchen we’ve been renovating since last Monday, and I inhale a deep lungful, pretending caffeine can work by the process of osmosis. We’ve been working hard since seven-thirty and I’ve already had two cups, one at home and another on my way to work, but I’m still tired.
Stifling a yawn, I push the cabinet into place, welcoming the fresh burn that fills my muscles as I hold it overhead. Above me, perched on a small ladder, my favorite co-worker Raven drills screws into place. This three-shelf, two door cabinet above where the fridge will be is the last one to go in, and the lightest one we’ve handled today. Appliances are due to arrive in half an hour, and they’ll be the final pieces, completing this renovation project.
Behind us, two members of our crew are standing by the newly installed quartz countertop on the kitchen island, discussing the final touches they’ve put on the hall bath, while two others finish the flooring in the adjoining mud room. The client scheduled the kitchen, mud room, and half-bath renovations all together and insisted they be completed at the same time. After watching home renovation shows with a lightning speed turn-around time, they demanded the same. I haven’t had this many co-workers with me on a job in ages.
A mere twelve hours have passed since I left Finlay in the parking garage, and I’ve been wrestling with whether texting him today would be considered too soon since I woke up at five-thirty. It’s now ten AM, and I still don’t have a clear answer.
I don’t want to appear desperate, yet I am. Desperate to hear his sexy voice rasping in my ear. Desperate to hear him say my name. Desperate to make new plans to see each other again.
"Dude." At Nolan’s barked word, I twist to look over my shoulder. He smacks Charlie on the shoulder and points at the newly installed island. "You spilled all down the side of it. Look."
Tan rivulets of coffee are running down the white wood. Dallas throws a rag to Charlie, who shrugs as he wipes coffee off the quartz countertop before gliding the rag over the lower cabinets and then the slowly forming puddle on the floor.
"Menace," Raven mutters as she sets the last screw in place. Only I can hear her, and I don’t bother smothering my smile because Charlie can’t see me. At least this time, he’s spilled onsomethingrather thansomeone. I’ve been a victim of his careless coffee consumption. Last month, the shock of hot coffee hitting the back of my shirt as I was laying sub-flooring resulted in me smacking my thumb with a hammer and catapulted Charlie to first place on my shit list.
When Raven lowers the drill to her side, I release my hold of the cabinet and take a step back. The dark blue cabinets make a striking statement against the white walls, black and white tile flooring, and the muted tans in the countertops. "Looks good."
"Yep." She nods and hops off the ladder. "Break time. I need to make a call before the appliances get here."
"I do too." I walk outside to our work truck to both wait for the appliance delivery and to grab my coffee. My chrome and teal travel mug advertises Eve and Sofia’s tattoo shop. Two sips into the hot brew, I can’t ignore the burning desire to text Finlay. Two sips more, and I have the phone in my hand, the text app open, and Finlay’s number selected. My heartbeat increases as my thumb hovers over the keyboard. I need to keep the text simple and casual.
Mateo: Hey. :-)
Can’t get more simple or casual than that. But was it too casual?
A bubble with three dots appears below my text. My heart slams into my ribs. Finlay is responding at this very moment. We’re simultaneously engaged in this connection, and even though we can’t see or hear each other, it feels intimate. Not as intimate as spending time together yesterday, but in its own way.
Finlay: Good morning Mateo.
As I’m reading the text, I hear his voice in my head, saying the words. The smile stretching over my face can’t be stopped.
Finlay: I woke up thinking about you.
I like that, a lot. It’s gratifying to know that I’ve been starring in his head the same way he’s been starring in mine.
Mateo: Same here. Thought about you last night too. In bed.
That’s the truth. I thought about him as I laid there, my energy too keyed up from that fantastic date to fall asleep. I fantasized about him as I stroked myself off, picturing his hands on my cock and his mouth on mine. Him on his knees, bringing me pleasure. Me on top of him, thrusting deep as he clenched around me, gasping out his release. And this morning during my shower, I flipped our positions in my fantasy. I’m eager to try anything and everything with him.
Thinking about that, I’m half hard now and my jeans are tight. As if he can read my mind, Finlay responds.
Finlay: Did I give you sweet dreams?
A smiling purple devil emoji follows his question. I can almost hear his voice dropping and growing rougher. The way he was last night as we kissed.
Mateo: With you in them? Sweet and sexy. Very sexy.
Finlay: Tell me more. I want details.
The truck with the appliances rumbles down the street.
The interruption both sparks annoyance and a needed reminder of time and place. I can’t be sexting with Finlay in the middle of a workday. Not when half of my crew is hanging out mere feet away waiting to help unload the appliances, and not when I have to join them.
Mateo: Details will have to wait. Appliances just arrived and they won’t unload themselves.
Finlay: To be continued, then. I have a meeting in a few minutes anyway. I hope your kitchen install is going well. Check in with you later.
I blink at the screen. He smoothly transitioned from sexy to wishing me well,andremembered what I’d told him about the work I had to do today.
