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ChapterOne
JAX
“What doyou want me to order to celebrate finishing this?” I scrolled our usual list of restaurants that delivered, drawn to Chinese for the third Friday running, but wondering if we should go bigger. “What about Dawsons? They have a special offer on that Thai banquet we had last month. Oh, and I could get them to add Tom Kha Kai if you fancied it.” I could almost taste the chicken and coconut, and if it was accompanied by a few sips of Chang Beer, then it would be the good kind of celebration.
Arlo mumbled something I couldn’t hear. He had his head in a cupboard under a sink, all six-five of him sprawled on the tile. I knew he wouldn’t be at all worried about the choice of food. In his words, he’d eat anything, with his favorite being desserts, which he blamed for his soft belly. I loved his soft belly, it was a hundred kinds of cute and pokable when I was teasing him, and hell, it was the only part of him thatwassoft, so I ignored his self-critical moaning. And also the bits where it was my fault because I ordered in cake.
Everyone should be able to treat themselves to cake every so often.
Particularly Arlo.
“How about getting delivery from Bleu Bohème? Remember that chicken we had? The one with the cream? I can’t see it on the menu, but I bet they’d know what it was if we asked.”
Mumble curse mumblewas all I could hear.
“What?”
Arlo cursed again, loudly. Now, that, I could hear clear as day.
“Mumble mumbletonight,” Arlo said, louder.
“What?”
Mumble mumble.
We were here doing final checks on the finishing touches to a kitchen renovation in a single-level home in the desirable “Santa streets” area of Solana Beach. The client had wanted the best finishes, and I’d fought hard for this contract, cutting my margins to the bone just to get it, but the end result was fantastic, and Arlo and I always celebrated the wins.
Only, he seemed off today—brooding, not the smiling man who loved his work and was excited to finish this project. In fact, he’d had his head in that cupboard for way longer than he needed, and I’d heard nothing but muttering. I hated that he’d been prickly all morning because that wasn’thim, and where we’d normally have this high between us about completing a job, he was too quiet. It made me think there was something wrong with this project that he didn’t want to tell me, and it freaked me out because, despite being in the black, things were tight.
“What have you found? Is it bad news? Will it cost me money?” I crouched next to him so I could better hear his answer. Of course, by me, I meant my company Byrne Construction, of which I was owner, but Arlo was my right-hand man, and I wanted him to be my business partner—only. — Only, I hadn’t had the conversation with him to make it real. Hell, I had all the paperwork at home, but there were several things stopping me from handing it over.
The biggest was my undeniable attraction to him, and the fact I was torn over making him a partner in my business or flirting even more than I did already and encouraging him to be my partner in every way.
I’d been lusting after him since I’d first set eyes on him, but as Mama said: “you don’t shit in your own bed.” Well, she didn’t say that exact thing, it was more of a proverb rattled off in quick Italian, but the meaning was there.
“No…mumble…” he cursed again.
This time, I tugged on his leg to get him out of the cupboard. “Out!”
He unfolded himself from where he’d been lying and propped himself up on his elbows. There was a smudge of paint over his left eyebrow, the same snowy white as the streaks in his steel gray hair. He was only thirty, but like his dad, his dark hair had lightened to salt and pepper when he hit puberty. His gray was as much part of him as his gorgeous eyes, and yes, I stared at him a lot.
When he wasn’t looking of course.
“What were you trying to say in there? Did you find something?”
“No.”
I sighed with relief. “So, what was all the mumbling about?”
“I can’t come over tonight,” he admitted, and couldn’t quite meet my gaze.
“What? Why?”
Wait, could I even ask that question? That wasn’t the kind of thing a boss asks the man who works for him, right? Arlo was under no obligation to spend time with me, but on the weekends when I didn’t have my girls staying, he would always come to my place on a Friday. We’d have beer, and he’d stay over in my spare room after we’d talked until late.
It was our thing.
“Are you okay?” I placed a hand on his knee to let him know I was there for him. He moved his knee, shrugged my touch away, and I wasn’t stupid, there was something off about all of this. “Are you ill? Shit, is something wrong with one of your brothers?”
