“Is that it? Do you have anything else to say?”
The guy on the other end of the phone sputters a few more unintelligible words, and all it does is piss me off more.
I’m in a sour mood today, and it’s not just because the machine I was promised has been delayed yet again.
It’s been three days since I last saw Summer, and I’m beginning to wonder if I completely fucked things up with her. Not that there’s anythingtofuck up since she’s just my employee and nothing can happen between us, but I was actually starting to enjoy working with her on the kitchen renovation. I have no idea what I’m doing in that regard, and her expertise is greatly appreciated.
Right, Ezra. Because that’s all it is. Just her kitchen experience. Definitely not that you like spending time with her.
“Look, Kyle. It was Kyle, right?”
“Uh, Drake.”
“Fine, Drake. Whatever. Just get me my pinball machine by the end of the day tomorrow. I don’t give a shit who you have to piss off to make it happen, but make it fucking happen. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”
“Good. Call me when the truck is on the road.”
Then I hang up.
It’s not usually how I conduct business, but I can’t find it in me to give a fuck right now. I’ve been sleeping like shit, I’m up to my eyeballs in things to do, and I’m in desperate need of a vacation. The only thing I have going for me right now is that my hip has decided to play nice and is only a dull throb today.
I’ll take the wins where I can get them.
“You good?”
I turn to find Noah staring at me with cautious eyes.
“Fine,” I bite out, but he doesn’t buy it. He can tell I’m on the brink of losing it.
“Drink?” he offers, already moving behind the bar.
I nod, then slide onto a stool.
I don’t typically drink during working hours, even when the social setting calls for it. I like to keep a clear head, but I could really use a good pour right now.
He fills a pint with Empty Net, one of our newer flavors that perfectly balances pear and peach. It’s sweet, damn good, and my current favorite. Then again, I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth.
“Thanks,” I mutter as he slides it my way. I take a healthy sip, then set it back down before he can even grab himself something.
He settles across from me with what I assume is Glove Save, which is his favorite. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“So you’re yelling at people on the phone for no reason?”
“I didn’t yell. I didn’t raise my voice a single time.”
Noah’s lips set in a firm line. I’m being technical, and he knows it. I might not have yelled, but I was certainly a dick.
I sigh, then scrub my hands over my face. “Fuck, man. I don’t know. I’m just ... on edge, I guess. Getting stressed about shit.”
“Like what? Talk to me, Ez. We’re business partners, remember? You don’t have to carry this workload alone.”
I know that. I really do. However, I also know that Noah is extremely busy with our community iceplex and all the goings-on there, not to mention the numerous events we have scheduled here, managing the animals,andhis upcoming wedding. I mean, sure, Odette’s probably doing most of the work for it, being a wedding planner and all, but my point remains the same—he has enough going on too. I can’t pitch in as physically as he can, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to handle things like paperwork and money.
“And don’t feed me some shit about how you don’t want to bother me or how you got it handled,” he says, essentially reading my mind. “Clearly you don’t, and that’s okay. Just say the word, and we’ll figure everything out together.”
