Page 27 of Tinsel & Tools
Outside, the wind whistled under the eaves. The road would start to glaze if the temperature kept dropping. This first week of December had always been this way in Brookhaven: one storm stacking on another until spring thawed the banks along the roads. Growing up here had meant learning how to shovel before school, drive slow on black ice, and split wood alongside my dad when the piles ran low.
Boston winters had been different. Same snow, same cold, but there it meant gridlocked traffic, subway delays, and job sites where I had to climb ladders with ice clinging to my boots. I never missed working in winter weather. Snow was fine when I was warm inside, but running conduit through half-built office towers while a foreman barked at me had ruined the charm years ago.
A car pulled into the driveway. I opened the door. The headlights held steady on the yard, falling snow moving through the light. Gavin climbed out with a backpack and came up the walk. “Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey.” He hesitated but stepped inside when I motioned for him to enter. “Thanks again. I tried letting the hot water run for at least ten minutes, but nothing.”
“Could be the pilot light went out. Or it could be something more.”
He sighed and unzipped his coat but kept it in his hand as he stepped farther inside. “I don’t like the more word.”
“Sorry. I can’t imagine inheriting a place you need to fix up. But I can promise, it’ll be worth it.”
“Hope so.” He gave me a small smile.
“The bathroom’s down the hall. Towels are on the shelf.” I pointed in that direction.
“Perfect. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Take your time.”
He disappeared down the hall, and a minute later, the shower kicked on. I set another log in the stove and watched the flames catch, the crack of the wood breaking the quiet. Grabbing the remote, I flipped on the TV, the channel already on the Bruins and Canucks game. I left the volume low as the hockey commentators did their play by play and stretched out on the couch, not caring about the score. Over the game, I could hear the water running, and before I realized it, my thoughts slid to Gavin standing under the spray. I jerked myself back with a hard blink. Where the hell had that come from, and why was I thinking about him naked? I’d never thought about a man like that before, not once, and now Gavin was in my head. I told myself he was just another guy, a client at that, someone I was supposed to help with repairs. Not someone I should be imagining in my shower.
I shifted on the couch, turning my focus back to the TV. Players lined up for a faceoff, sticks hitting the ice as the puck dropped. I tried to care, tried to let the game monopolize my attention, but all I caught myself doing was listening for the change in the pipes that meant the water had been shut off.
Just as the second intermission started, Gavin came back down the hall, hair damp and pushed back, fresh clothes on. “Thanks again,” he said, walking toward the front door. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“You don’t have to head back out.” I stood. “The roads are already slick, and I have a guest room if you want to crash here.”
What am I doing?
His eyes went to the door, then back to me. “Are you sure?”
I swallowed, telling myself this was just me being friendly and nothing more. It had nothing to do with thinking about him naked. “Yeah. You’d be better off staying here than trying to head back to the inn tonight.”
He hesitated only a second before nodding. “All right. Thanks.”
I got up and went to the fridge. “You want a beer? It’s no martini, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“Guess I can make do.”
After grabbing two bottles of Bud Light, I twisted off the caps and handed one over before taking my seat again.
“You know,” he said, sitting on the other end of the couch, “ordering a martini at that bar should’ve earned me some points for bravery.”
I smirked. “I’ll give you points.”
“For bravery?”
“For being obnoxious.”
He laughed, leaning back into the couch. “Obnoxious but memorable.”
“Fine, it was memorable.” I chuckled.
His foot nudged against the coffee table as he shifted, and his knee angled closer to me. I caught the movement, then glanced at him. He didn’t look away.
“You always drink beer?” he asked.
