It was just for research, he told himself, before he handed the job off to an expert; but still, every morning he got out of bed, brewed a cup of coffee, and found himself out there in the yard, sizing up the vessel, and figuring what he needed to do next.
A thorough clean was the first thing on his list. That needed nothing more than a power hose and some elbow grease, so it seemed a shame to foist it off on someone else. It didn’t take long, and Friday morning, he had his sleeves rolled up, and was rinsing off years of dirt and grime – trying not to ask himself why he was wasting his time on this, when his career needed his attention even more.
But Wall Street felt a long way away, and full of problems he couldn’t fix. And the boat? Well, Aidan could do something about that, at least.
He scrubbed a blackened patch of the hull, his shoulders already aching more than from the most grueling gym session. It felt foreign to him not to be checking emails, and the stock market reports; not to be sending and receiving a dozen important messages before he’d barely opened his eyes. Instead, he just had the morning silence of the woods around him, sound-tracked by birdsong and the occasional fox rustling in the trees. The air was crisp, and chilly enough to warrant his thickest cable-knit sweater, and as he scrubbed there, he felt strangely content. Focused. There were no phones ringing, or people yelling across the room. No million-dollar deals hanging in the balance, or epic chances to fail. Just a job that needed doing, and the tools to get it done.
Maybe this was what Stella liked about her work.
Aidan paused, remembering how she had lit up on the dance floor the other night. Even stumbling through the steps as a total beginner, she’d had such joy on her face. She’d looked so carefree, spinning around the room, not caring what anyone thought. She was beautiful. Independent.
Irresistible.
He wondered, what would he have to do to make her look at him like that?
Maybe he would find out, later today. But before he embarked on the big chaperone trip, he needed to get this cleanup finished. Aidan turned back to the boat, wiping down a section of the prow. The dirt gave way to reveal faded script, painted on the wood.
Rosebud.
He stopped. That was Earl’s pet name for their grandma, Eloise. She’d passed away nearly seven years ago now, and Aidan knew, she was sorely missed. He traced his fingers over the script, remembering how his grandparents would fuss over each other, bickering good-naturedly over everything from the weather to their dinner plans. Fifty years together, and they’d still looked at each other with love in their eyes.
That was the kind of marriage he wanted. Not that he’d even come close. The women he’d dated in the past were just like him: ambitious, driven, busy. They’d scheduled their dates on shared virtual calendars, going to only the best restaurants, the most fashionable vacations. They would have laughed to see him now, covered in dirt, chiseling away at years of muck and grime.
But Stella was different…
Aidan’s thoughts were interrupted by the noise of an engine, as Jackson’s truck came into view through the trees. His brother pulled up beside the boat, and started unloading the flatbed.
Aidan climbed down to meet him. “I hope those pumpkins aren’t for me,” he joked, nodding to the rest of the cargo.
Jackson grinned. “I’m helping out with decorations for the Halloween Hoedown tomorrow. They wanted me to build some stocks, too. It’s some charity fundraiser thing,” he explained. “Although, I’m hoping I don’t wind up the one locked up in them, getting pummeled with rotten fruit.”
“If you are, let me know. I’ll find a tomato or two.” Aidan offered, joking.
“Gee thanks,” Jackson replied. “And here I am, doing you a favor. I found some more stuff in Earl’s garage you might need.” He unloaded equipment, and brought it over to the boat. “Sander. Toolbox. And Luke says if you need timber, he has a contact at the lumber yard. He’ll be able to fix you up.”
“Thanks.” Aidan said, surprised. “I’m actually thinking of plywood, for these panels here,” he said, showing Jackson where the old planks were loose or rotted through. “I did some reading, and it keeps the hull lighter, built for speed.”
“Sounds good.” Jackson looked over the plans with him, and made