Page 5 of Built to Last

I shook my head and stepped up into the RV. Darius had no idea how deeply I appreciated his vote of confidence. I might have been six-three and built like someone who hauled around heavy construction materials all day, but appearances could be deceiving. Especially when you had a big, flaming secret that would make guys like Darius reconsider their admiration and maybe ditch me for more than just a weekend away if they knew.

“Hey, Kyle,” my admin, Angela, said, glancing up from the desk area I’d set up for her in the custom-configured RV. “You had a call from Marco Andreotti while you were out.”

My eyebrows went up and my pulse picked up at the news. “Oh yeah?” I asked, taking a seat at the second desk I’d managed to squeeze into the tight space where a spare set of beds had once been. “Did he say anything about the shop?”

“Just that he wants to talk to you about it ASAP,” Angela said, reaching for a sticky note on the table beside her laptop. “Here’s his number.”

I took the note from Angela, smiling at her as I did. Angela put up with a lot working for me. Not having a fixed location to work out of was one challenge of her job. She worked from home most of the time, but I needed her in person once a week, so she packed up her laptop and other work stuff and drove to whatever site I was parked at. Through the summer, we’d been lucky. She lived about twenty minutes away in Warminster. I’d worked a few jobs clear on the other side of the city in the past few years, though, and she’d never complained about the drive.

“You’re a peach, Ang,” I told her, pulling out my phone to call Marco. “As soon as my ship comes in, I’m giving you a raise.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she laughed before focusing on her work again.

I spotted the paper Common Grounds cup sitting on the side of her workspace, and my thoughts flew immediately back to Gilbert. What would Angela say if she knew I had a history with one of the owners of her new favorite coffee spot? Would she leave me, too, if she knew I was gay?

I cleared my throat and focused on giving Marco Andreotti a call. My discipline and determination to make my construction business a success was and always had been the best way to hide from other things that could get me in trouble.

“Hello, Kyle,” Marco’s cheerful voice answered as soon as the call connected.

“Hello, Marco. I hear you called?” Hope that I could finally get things settled for the shop rang in my voice.

“I did.” That hope grew at the enthusiasm of Marco’s reply. “I think it’s going to work out. My final backer fell into place this morning, which means I’ll have the capital to proceed.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said, sagging into my seat and sending Angela a smile. She gave me two thumbs up as I went on with, “So when can we get together to sign contracts and finalize the deal?”

“As soon as possible, I hope,” Marco said. “I do have a few more questions about—” There was a loud sound in the background that concerned me. Until Marco laughed. “Sorry. I have a dog, a rescued greyhound, and he just got into the trash. Can I call you back later? I have to handle this.”

“My day is pretty packed,” I said. Inspiration struck. “I play in a community baseball league and we have a game tonight. We play at Copper Beech Park and usually go out for a drink at the Red Lion Inn after. Any chance you’d be able to join me there?”

There was a slight hesitation in Marco’s voice before he answered with a breathless, “I’d love to.”

Prickles raced down my back. Marco’s answer was soft and silky, entirely different from the way the two of us had interacted so far. I hadn’t met the man in person yet. He’d submitted his business plan for a gourmet food shop to me online, and although I’d read and been impressed with his resumé, I hadn’t seen any pictures of him. Not that I would have been able to tell the man was gay from his picture. I couldn’t really tell from the way he said three simple words, but I had the weird feeling that I’d just made a date.

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” I said as gruff as possible without being openly offensive.

We said our goodbyes and I ended the call, then stared at my phone for a few extra seconds. It couldn’t be what I was worried it was. My gaydar wasn’t that sharp. But there were definitely a few signs that I might have stepped in it.

“So we have a business to rent the shop space?” Angela asked, all eager eyes and wide smile.

“Sounds like it,” I said, putting my phone down and opening my laptop.

“At last!” Angela sighed. “Let’s hope this one stays.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the flush I could feel creeping up my face. Angela was talking about business. She couldn’t possibly know her words hit the worst of my unhealed wounds.

“I wonder what the guys at Common Grounds will think of this,” Angela went on, striking another tender spot that she couldn’t have known about. “A coffee shop and a gourmet food place will probably work perfectly together.”

She was right, but that wasn’t where my mind went. Despite how ridiculous it was, the only thing I could think about was what Gilbert Meyers would think of the fact that I’d just accidentally made a date with a guy…who wasn’t him.

I pushed that thought way, way aside and dove into work for the rest of the day. Now that the Glenside shop project was nearing completion, I would soon be picking up the pace of the next two projects I had in the pipeline, both commercial developments in nearby towns. My construction company was growing by leaps and bounds, and if I wanted to come up with it and make it the business I’d always dreamed of, I needed to give work my full focus, not long dead relationships that had never gone anywhere because the guy I’d liked had backed off before things could even get started.

Work could only keep me occupied for so long. I didn’t have to go anywhere once Angela left and my crew packed it up for the day. The advantage of living in an RV was that I could simply drive away from the construction site and park in a far corner of the parking lot near the ballpark. I had enough water in my RV’s tank to take a quick shower before changing into my uniform—basically jeans with the team’s grey t-shirt with a goofy, grinning walrus face on the front—and stepping out, ready to go.

I wasn’t the only one stepping out of my vehicle, though. It was just my luck that Gilbert arrived at the field at the same time as I got there. I hated the fact that he looked so good in his sea blue t-shirt, even though it had a big, mean fish on the front. He wore a ballcap, which I wasn’t as crazy about, since Gil’s hair was one of the things I liked best about his appearance. It was thick and silky, and I remembered how good it felt to run my fingers through it during those clandestine college make out sessions.

“Jameson,” he snapped at me with a nod of his head.

“Meyers,” I returned, equally challenging.