Harlan and Kyren once took an undercover job painting houses, so I’m honestly letting them take point now.
“That’s what I’d suggest too,” Harlan says. We’re dressed in jeans that have seen lots of wear and comfortable shirts. While it’s chilly, we’re sure to work up a sweat tonight.
Loading up our tool belts, we grab our paint and head up to our respective spots of the house and get to work. Rolling paint is waking up all my sore muscles, but I tell myself that it’ll be worth it.
Just yesterday, her sister watched me before she left in her car, appearing wildly amused. By the time she came back, she looked more impressed than anything else. The only way to change someone’s mind about you, is to show them what you’re about.
That’s what my mama has always told me. She and my father were devastated when my sister died, and I don’t think they ever really got over it. They still wake up every day and do what they need to do, but the truth is that there’s shadows haunting their faces.
We all died a little that day I think.
Pushing away the memories, I lose myself in painting the house. The materials we bought are really good, and it glides on well. It also appears to be the correct color that I looked up online.
Thank fuck.
Hours go by before Silva emerges from her house, her jaw dropped as she looks up at me. Harlan is out back, while Kyren is on the other side of the house.
“Good morning!” I call down.
“I heard there were maintenance fairies here,” she says, her arms crossing over her chest.
She’s standing on her lawn in a pair of pleather shorts, a corset, and boots. As I squint, I see that her legs appear a little shiny, meaning she might be wearing some type of stockings. All I can think about is how fucking sexy she looks.
“Fairies at your service,” I tease her. Glancing at my watch, I can see it’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon. Damn, the dayreally flew by. I’m fucking starving, and we still have more to do tomorrow.
“I guess so. Don’t fall off my roof,” she says, trying to look unimpressed. I can still see that she’s smiling as she gets into her car and heads out.
“Guys!” I call out, my equivalent to Marco, Polo.
“Present!” Harlan yells back, making me huff out a laugh.
“I’m hungry,” I say, the universal secret omega form of I’m fucking done for today.
“We’ll pack up,” Kyren says easily. “Can’t have you trying to eat paint chips because it looked good.”
I’m full on grinning as I pack up and climb down the ladder.
I’ve changed the position of the ladder several times as I’ve worked, and I can see that about half the house is done. It would go faster if we had a bigger crew, but it’s not too bad for what we have.
Deciding to walk around the house, I find that it looks really even. If anything, Harlan and Kyren’s sides look better.
“Wow,” I comment, standing beside my pack. “We didn’t fuck this up yet.”
Kyren snorts, his hand squeezing my shoulder.
“Babe, did you really think that was a possibility?” he asks, his voice low and husky. My cock tells me we’re very interested, and I groan as it rises to life.
Nope. Pay attention.
“A little,” I admit. “I really want this to look good.”
“It will,” Harlan says. “You have to trust this process. Let’s clean up.”
The three of us get to work, and by the end, it looks like nothing is amiss outside of the half painted house.
Getting into the car, we pick up burgers from Laurel’s Diner and take it back to our room. We all desperately need showers, and take turns doing that in the woefully too small shower stall.
Exhaustion is pulling hard at me. I’d love to take a long bath, but that’s impossible with a tub as small as the one here. My stomach is also making odd gurgling noises, and I don’t understand why I’m beginning to feel really shitty.
