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“You’re afraid to stop for five seconds and feel.”
“I stop plenty. Feel plenty.” It’s not like I don’t eat or drink or take bathroom breaks. I felt enough during WITSEC to tip the scales at Fort Knox.
“Sure,” he says, but his sarcastic tone indicates he thinks I’m full of shit. He tucks his thumb into his tool belt and scuffs his boot over the floor. “Has Jo been okay recently?”
The change in conversation causes me mental whiplash. Or maybe it’s hearing Jo’s name. “I wouldn’t know.”
“You live with her.”
“Like I’ve said, our schedules are completely opposite. I never see her.” Or kiss her, like I’ve been dreaming about and the town seems to think has already occurred.
His jaw pops again. It’s a Bower trait. Our strong jaws never fail to show signs of irritation or anger. More proof his feelings for Jolene aren’t as dormant as she thinks.
He looks about to speak his mind, but Omar Turner walks into our workspace. He’s a slight Black man with thick glasses and an air of intelligence. Good thing, because he’s one of the town’s building inspectors, but I completely forgot he was coming today.
First, I forgot about helping with the Yard Goat’s reopening. Then the window header screw-up. Now this.
“I’m a bit early,” Omar says, surveying our work. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Happy to have you,” Jake says, dragging his penetrating gaze off me. “We’ve got one window left to frame. It was supposed to be done today, but we had a small setback. Rest is done and ready for drywall. With your approval, of course.”
Omar nods and readies his clipboard. “If I have questions, I’ll holler.”
Jake heads outside to work on the kitchen cabinets.
My phone buzzes. At the sight of Sandra’s name, I step into the hallway and answer.
“We have a problem,” she says without preamble.
I tighten my grip on the phone. “With Lennon’s electrical work or Jolene’s lease?”
“The electrical work.”
“You weren’t able to delay one of Dean’s jobs?”
“A job has been delayed. There is now a biologist trying to ascertain why an endangered bog turtle is on the land where they’re building townhomes by Corner Creek.”
“How did you get a bog turtle on the site?”
“Do I ask you how you do your job?”
As usual, Sandra excels at putting me in my place. “If you got the work delayed, what’s the issue?”
“Dean had an appointment with a building inspector that day. When she asked Dean where he was heading instead, he told her there was work to be done at Lennon’s. But Lennon never applied for a building permit. Apparently, he got busy with his adventure programs and forgot.”
Fucking hell.“Did they put a stop to his reno work?”
“All of it. Some has to be redone now, and there’s a fine.”
I curse again and tear off my hat, wiping at the sweat on my brow. Another heaping of guilt slides into my stomach.
Lennon should’ve acquired a permit, but if I hadn’t interfered, the inspector wouldn’t have known about his renovation work. He wouldn’t have a fine and more work ahead of him. “I have Omar here now. Maybe I can do damage control.”
“Worth a shot. On a positive note, I have my eye on a buyer interested in purchasing the building where Jolene has her bar. They would be opening a brewpub.”
“That’s good,” I say distractedly. I have wood-ordering mistakes to fix. Jo’s apartment to get sorted, so she can move home. More Lennon issues to tackle. “We can’t move on that yet. I need to get a better read on Jo first.” Which would involve actually speaking with her.
We hang up, and I drag my hand down my face. I need more hours in my day.
