“Two hundred and fifty Golden Tiger condoms,” he said, setting down his tools. “Rawr.”
Wes waved the box at Miles.
“How long does one of these last you, Miles? A month?”
Miles grabbed it mid-air, as if it were a pesky fly.
“It’s not mine,” he grunted, shoving the box into the desk drawer. “And finishing that box in a month would take eight a day. That’d be really hard.”
“That’s what she said.” Wes laughed at his own joke.
Avery felt her cheeks, neck, and hands burning. She needed to get Wes out of here before her whole face morphed into a tomato.
“Thank you, Wes,” Avery said over his laughter. “Sorry to make you come all this way.”
“Again, that’s what she said.” Wes wiped a laughing tear from his eye.
Crimson-cheeked Miles patted Wes on the back. “See you later, Wes.”
Wes stopped laughing and opened his toolbox.
“While I’m here, I figured I’d turn on the water. Prime the pump after the long winter. You know, make sure the pipes are flowing.” He was the only one laughing at his own innuendo. Wes wiped his eyes again, pulled a wrench out of his toolbox, and headed to the bathroom. “You two are no fun.”
Avery had an overwhelming desire to melt into the floor. Of all their interactions since her return, Wes’s off-color ribbing might have been the most cringeworthy. Miles put both hands over his eyes and slid them down his cheeks, assuming the exact pose of Edvard Munch’s famous painting,The Scream.
Wes returned a minute later, leaving the tub running. “Just need a couple minutes to flush the line.”
The three of them froze, eyes anywhere but on one another.
Avery needed to move past the embarrassment, so she focused on her reason for being in the Boathouse. She walked to the bed, unfolded the new duvet, and tossed it open. It settled on the plastic-covered mattress, setting free a wave of dust. Wes sneezed. At each corner, she pulled the duvet into place. The bed was a queen. She’d bought a king size. A bigger bed would fit in this room.
“I have an idea.” She snapped her fingers. “I can create a month’s worth of social media posts using different vignettes of one beautiful cabin. The exterior of the Boathouse screams getaway. To make people imagine themselves in here, it needs to be dreamy. But, we’re gonna need more than new curtains and bedding.”
Miles and Wes scanned the room as if trying to imagine her vision. Avery ran a thumb along the post of the worn bed frame, her nail making a new chip in the crusty, old varnish. When she rocked the frame, it creaked.
“This bed needs to go,” she said. “It should be a king, and not squeaky.”
At that, Wes nudged a stone-faced Miles.
“Help me out here, Wes.” Avery snapped her fingers again to divert his attention from Miles, who stood frozen in place. “Do you have a king bed frame in storage?”
“Not anything ‘spectacular’ or ‘dreamy.’” Wes shook the bedpost, which rocked the entire frame back and forth toward the wall. “Ayuh, this one’s a wall-banger. Whatcha thinking besides sturdy?”
“Woodsy and relaxing. Like Montressa. Maybe made of tree trunks or branches.”
Wes stopped shaking the bed, took the tape measure off his belt, and measured from the ceiling to the floor. He gave Avery a crisp nod.
“We had to cut a couple of birches last spring,” he said. “They’re in the room behind the laundry. Wood cures well back there. We save them ’cause you never know when they’ll be useful. Sometimes I make mirrors or cut them for table legs. Never tried a bed, but I think I could do it.”
Avery’s entire face lit up, excited Wes was on board.
“OMG!” Avery bounced on her toes. “I’ve seen plans for tree beds on Pinterest.”
“No Pinterest.” Wes put up a hand to stop her. “My girlfriend Jeanette loves Pinterest. Those damn DIY instructions might as well’ve been written by a raccoon under the light of a new moon. Tell me your idea, and I’ll figure it out.”
“Understood.” Avery smiled. She appreciated his hesitation. Pinterest fails were the worst.
Miles remained glued to the floor, deep in thought. Avery wondered if he was still ruminating on whatever he’d tried to say before Wes arrived.
