“Hey, Ty, how are things going, man? How’s the Patel job coming along?” he asks, referring to the job I’ve been working on this week, a big renovation in one of the older, wealthy suburbs. The clients are really nice, but they have incredibly high standards, which can be intimidating.
“I’m good, Mason, thanks,” I say. “And things at the Patel place are great. I think they’re really happy with what we’ve got done so far, plus we’re on schedule to finish early, so they’re excited about that.”
“Awesome. I heard things were going well there—that’s great, Tyler. Impressing Mr. and Mrs. Patel isn’t easy.” He shoots me a pleased grin, and I get a nice little rush of pride. I love being good at my job.
“So, Tyler, I’d really like you to consider taking the long-term position out at Ocean Shores. It would be great experience for you, and you’ll knock it out of the park.”
I blink at him, my jaw dropping open before I realize it, and I snap it shut. “What?” I ask. There’s no way I heard him right, which can happen when I’m in a place with a lot of background noise. I glance down at my phone, which has an app that acts like closed-captioning for live conversations and is super useful in situations like this. It does occasionally screw things up though, similar to autocorrect, and it’s led to some rather unfortunate misunderstandings in the past. My app shows that Mason said what I thought he did, but it can’t be right.
“I’m sorry, I think I got that wrong. What did you say?” I ask.
Mason looks like he’s choking back a laugh. “I think you got the message right, Ty. I said I want you to think about taking that foreperson job on the coast. I think you’re ready for it.”
I’m so shocked I can’t reply for a minute, and Mason stops trying to hold back and lets out a chuckle. He stands and places a hand on my shoulder. “I won’t force you it if you’re really not comfortable. But I know you’re ready to take this on. Dylan does too. Think about it over the weekend, okay?”
“Oh! I… Uhmmm… Yeah, I will…” I stammer, totally dumbfounded.
Mason drains the last of his beer. “I gotta get going,” he says. “But promise me you’ll think on it. Oh, and you should stay in our guesthouse tonight—don’t drive all the way home in this shit weather!”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze and turns to go, leaving me stunned as he heads for the door, where Jackson’s waiting for him, a ball cap pulled down low to cover his striking blond hair and blue eyes.
Sucking in a breath, I turn back to the table and find the open chair across from me has been filled by none other than the gorgeous Sam Campbell. As if my mind wasn’t completely scrambled from that conversation with Mason, now I’ve got one of the hottest guys I know sitting two feet away from me. I swallow hard and push the conversation with Mason out of my mind, putting a pin in it until I can take it out later to examine it. It’s a skill I perfected while I was in Afghanistan, when there was often shit on my mind, but if I allowed myself to lose focus on what was happening in front of me, I’d be dead.
We spend a while longer sitting around chatting, and I have a good time in spite of myself. My instinct is usually to turn down these invites for after-work drinks, but when I say yes, I’m always glad I came. When people start trickling out to head home, I glance at my watch. Sam, who’s still sitting across from me, notices.
“Late for a hot date?” He grins.
I snicker. “Unfortunately, no. I’ve got a long drive home, so I should probably head out.”
Sam gives me a puzzled look. “You’re still living in Tacoma? I thought you moved up closer a while ago?”
I shake my head. “No, I was going to move in with one of the new guys, but he found a cheaper place with some college kids. It was a better fit for him.”
I hadn’t been all that upset when the potential roommate situation had fallen through a few months ago. While I wouldn’t miss the shitty commute every day, the thought of sharing a small apartment with someone I don’t know very well makes me break out in hives. The few years of living like sardines in a can while I was in the Army only made my natural desire for privacy more intense. I also worry about people being annoyed by some of the adaptive shit I need to use, like the lights flashing for the doorbell and always having to have closed-captions on the TV. None of the guys I work with have ever given any indication they would be like that, but you never know. So, the whole roommate scene is something I’d like to avoid if I can.
“Oh, wow,” Sam says thoughtfully. “How come you’re not staying at Mason and Jax’s guest pad, then? It’s still crap weather out there, and their guesthouse is plush, as you know since you helped build it!” His eyes twinkle as he looks at me over the rim of his pint glass.
I laugh. “Yeah, Mason offered me their guesthouse, but I’d rather get home to my own bed. Just a creature of habit, I guess.” I shrug, feeling a little self-conscious.
“Oh, okay. Well, I know for certain Mason and Jax would love for you to stay there, but no worries if you gotta head home.” Sam drains the last of his beer. “I’m actually going to head out too. Where’d you park?”
“I left my car at the office. Got a ride with Kev, but I haven’t seen him for a while,” I say, glancing around for my ride.
Sam chuckles. “Mmm, well, I’m not sure he’s going to be willing to leave just yet.” He shoots a look across the bar, and I follow his gaze to the pool tables, where it appears Kevin has his hands full of pretty girl. She’s leaning over the pool table to take a shot, and he’s apparently giving her “lessons.” He’s bent over so he’s almost on top of her, his crotch pressed into her ass, which is barely covered by a tiny white skirt, as he helps her line up her shot.
I snort a laugh and shake my head. “Right, then. I guess I’m calling an Uber.”
Sam waves his hand at me dismissively. “Nah, I’ll give you a ride to the office. I gotta go past there on my way home.”
“Oh. Okay, sure,” I say. Truthfully, the thought of spending a little more time in Sam’s sunny presence sounds good, plus I know he’ll never let me call an Uber. This crowd takes care of each other, and the older guys are all pretty protective of the younger crowd.
For some people, having your employer be so concerned with making sure you get home from work safely every night might feel intrusive, but I don’t mind. It’s been a really long time since anyone was particularly concerned about my well-being. Honestly, I’m not sure anyone has ever cared all that much. My mom was always either wasted or not around. Plus, whichever man she happened to be latched onto at the time always took priority over her kids. Keeping her man happy was always job one. My older brother, Aaron, cared about me, but he was just a kid, only seven years older than me. It wasn’t the same as having a parent.
Being mothered by Mason and the rest of the guys at work is a nice novelty. It makes me feel good to know someone would notice if I didn’t show up for work. The guys in the military cared, but that was part of the job. No one at Hot Dam Homes has any obligation to give a shit about what I do once I’m off the clock, but they do. It feels more family-like than anything I’ve had before.
“Um, sure. That’d be great,” I say, hoping I sound confident.
Sam gives me a crooked smile that causes my dick to twitch in my jeans. “Okay, just give me a minute to grab my stuff, and we’ll head out.”
