His eyebrows shoot up, similar to the way Travis reacted as he shakes his head at that. “Everyone thinks our job is easy until they do it for a day.” He grins. “Is he going to break a hip?”
I chuckle. “Turns out, he’s likely younger than us. And you know a lot of older people are plenty active.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off. “He’s young?” I nod. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
He still looks confused, and I get it. I’m still thrown off by it, and I was the one to see the guy in person. “You have Amber tonight?”
I shake my head. “Nah, it’s Shell’s week.”
He closes the tailgate on the truck. “Let’s go get that drink then.”
I’m surprised he actually wants to after how he blew me off today when I asked about Rebecca, but I accept. We hop into our trucks and head a few blocks over to the local tavern.
After we both order a beer and one of their famous barbecue brisket sandwiches because we’re both starving, we head over to a booth and sit across from each other.
“So he’s a young guy, huh?”
I nod and then thank the waitress who brings over our beers before answering him verbally. “Yeah. Super young. Honestly, it’s probably best he won’t let you help me out. You’d be all over him,” I say with a grin before taking a sip of my beer.
“Oh yeah?” He perks up because of course he does. Jackson is a very out-and-proud bisexual and a bit of a horndog. He has no problem flirting with all our clients—never crossing the line or making anyone uncomfortable—but most of them absolutely love him. Of course, I’ve noticed he’s a hell of a lot more careful flirting with the men than the women. Always feeling them out first. And while it’s a small town, most people know Oakley and Travis will not tolerate any sort of homophobia. Our client list is full of good people. “Go on...” he says in a dramatic over-the-top way that makes me chuckle.
“He’s a good-looking dude.” He snorts into his beer. “What? I can know when a guy is hot.”
He just shakes his head, laughing. “I think you’ve spent too much time with us.”
I laugh and decide it’s time to change the subject to one he might not like as much. “So, what happened with Rebecca?”
He groans, and the waitress smiles but looks a little worried as she places our plates in front of us. “Everything look good?”
“Oh yeah, it looks great. My friend here is just grilling me about my love life,” Jackson says, batting his eye lashes at her in the most ridiculous way. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
“Caleb is going to kick your ass if you keep hitting on his little sister,” I say, and Jackson looks surprised.
“Caleb Olsen?” He looks at the waitress again. “No way you’re related to that ugly fucker.”
“Hey, that’s my brother you’re talking about,” she laughs, but I don’t miss the little flip of her hair as she strides away from the table. Also, Caleb Olsen is far from ugly, and Jackson knows it. Always flirting with him too. The guy is shameless.
I roll my eyes at Jackson. Caleb works for Thatcher Langley’s construction crew, and they’ve attended some of Oakley’s parties over the years. I remember Caleb bringing her once or twice, and hell, it’s a small town. We all know each other. How he didn’t know that, I don’t know, other than Jackson is often in his own world most of the time. “You’re a dumbass.”
He chuckles and then sighs as he pours some barbecue sauce on his sandwich. “The same shit happened with Rebecca. I thought it was great. And then she dumped me.”
“She dumped you?” I ask, surprised because the girl seemed to really like him. Though, after being exposed to all of us at that Christmas party, maybe she decided that was just too much.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “She said I didn’t seem that into her or whatever.”
He wasn’t. But I don’t point that out. No need. “Sorry, man.”
He shrugs and takes a huge bite, getting sauce all over his face and not caring at all. “It is what it is.”
I take a bite of my own sandwich, chewing far better than my friend here. But then my stomach sours when I realize I should probably tell someone about Shelly instead of keeping it all bottled up and shit. “Shelly’s pregnant.”
His eyes bug out of his head, and he looks like a cartoon character for a moment before he finally fixes his face. “Shelly’s pregnant?”
“Yup,” I say, bitterness seeping through the one word, and his gaze softens with pity.
“Damn.”
