he smells good—all spicy male mixed with the scent of fresh sawdust and outdoor springtime—and I shiver. I don’t know how I’ll make it through the day. Thankfully, the studs are up, and the roof tapped down on this house. Today’s order includes window installation and hardwiring the electricity, which is Jake’s assignment as electrical work was listed as part of his skill set. I’m here to supervise. To his credit, Jake is a diligent worker. He jumped in immediately upon his arrival. He’s early to work and does additional jobs we don’t ask of him, like picking up garbage and scraps at the end of the day.
“Let me make the couch thing up to you. I’ll buy you a coffee the next time I’m sitting on it.” The implication is clear. If our paths should cross again in the Bean, he’ll be taking—and keeping—my seat on the sofa.
“How about if you just move your fine . . . just move the next time you see me?” My traitorous eyes roam his body as I speak, taking in the way his faded jeans dip on his hips, weighted down by a tool belt, and how the fit of his flannel hugs his chest. Jake runs hot, so he’ll have that thing off soon enough, giving me a show with the tight T-shirt he wears underneath the outerwear.
“You want to see my moves?” Jake teases. Bending his arms before his chest, he tips his head forward and sways his hips.
Holy sticky maple syrup.
Jake starts to dance to some song in his head, and a playlist of music runs through mine, which includes “Afternoon Delight” and “Let’s Get It On.” Quickly, I turn away from the subtle thrusts of his pelvis, slowly tapping left to right. However, those eyes of mine have their own mind, and my gaze drifts back to him, watching as he lowers his lids and bites his bottom lip. If he moves like that when he . . . and looks like that when he . . . I’d let him steal my pillow, take the blankets, and have the damn couch.
“Okay, Michael Jackson,” I snap, more aggressively than necessary.
“Michael Jackson?” His head pops up as he stills his dance. “I’m insulted. That was my best Chase Rice doing ‘Ride.’ Michael Jackson dates you a bit.”
He chuckles, but his humor hits a sore spot for me. I’m newly forty-three. Never been married. Never had children, and I’m sensing a midlife crisis coming on. Not that the crisis is like a common cold or anything. It can’t be detected by aches, chills, fever, stuffy nose, and the like. It’s more a feeling inside me that I need a change in my life. It’s time.
“Well, Chase Rice called, and he wants his groove back.”
Jake laughs harder. “Rita, you’re a hoot.”
“Speaking of dating oneself.” Who calls anyone a hoot nowadays?
“Who’s dating?” Sullivan Vance interrupts us, and I’m grateful for the intrusion from our construction manager. Sullivan is a burly guy, complete with bristle brush beard and unruly dark hair under his knit cap. Everything about him is typical Vermont and kind of cute, but nothing that attracts me enough to give in to the constant dates he’s asked of me.
“Rita wants to date Michael Jackson,” Jake states, and Sullivan glances a little wide-eyed and hurt at me.
“Is he new around here?” His dark eyes show he’s seriously questioning me.
Jake snorts before covering his mouth with a fist, pretending to cough.
“Never mind, Sully. We don’t have all day to dance. Let’s get to work,” I state, going into supervisor mode. I have a one o’clock court time, so I need to finish here by noon.
Jake starts humming whatever tune he had in his head, and I make a mental note to find that song and give it a listen. In the meantime, Sullivan leads the way to the house we’re building for a family of four who lost theirs this past winter in a fire. Jackie and Bob applied for our assistance after Bob lost his job. They didn’t have enough homeowner’s insurance for the damage done to their house, and one of their children has extensive medical bills.
By noon, we have a few windows installed. The electrical wiring is still on the docket, and Jake will take the lead while Sully assists.
“I need to head out,” I tell Sullivan, and he nods. “But I’ll be back after court.”
This turns Jake’s head in my direction. “What are you going to court for?”