Fixer-Upper (2 page)

Jasper looked at Jake incredulously. “You want to mow?”

Jake fidgeted. “I do.”

“You know you’re paying us to do that,” pointed out Jasper.

He felt like throwing his hands in the air in frustration. He shifted from foot to foot, shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s not like you won’t have work to do.”

Jasper looked to Dakota, who shrugged. Jasper shrugged back, and Dakota turned to Jake. “You can mow the back. Jasper will help you, there’s some leaves back there and stuff that needs to be picked up first. We’re going to rip it all out and lay down some new grass, but it’s easier to clean this up a bit first.”

“All right,” agreed Jake, beyond glad to have something to do. Both of the men gave him strange looks, but they moved to the truck to grab equipment.

“You can go ahead and get it started,” said Jasper. “Just ride it back there.”

Jake clambered onto the mower, settling himself in the seat. He looked at the wheel, bent a bit to see beside it. Did he need a key for this thing?

“Have you ever used one of these before?” asked Dakota.

“Of course,” said Jake. “Just not this particular type.”

“Uh-huh.” He reached across him and did something that started the mower. It rumbled to life beneath Jake. “You want to drive it slowly, in even lines, over the grass. Avoid any objects you see or piles of leaves. That just causes an unnecessary mess. Jasper will be right back.”

“Got it,” he said, pressing the stick poking out next to him forward.

The mower moved forward with a lurch before settling into a slow roll across the grass. Behind him he heard Dakota say, “Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t break it.”

His stomach twisted itself into knots, and he kept his gaze trained on the grass in front of him, hands firmly on the wheel of the mower. He could mow the grass; he wasn’t incompetent. He was thirty-six years old. He’d been a successful business owner. He had a degree.

Never had any grass been mowed so intensely as the grass in his new backyard. His lines were perfect—well, as perfect as they could be given the small patches. He avoided clumps of leaves, the shattered pot that was hidden in a nest of weeds, the old shoe that was left by the back porch.

His shirt was clinging to him, sweat rolling in persistent drops down his face as the sun beat down on him. He made a mental note that he’d need to bring a hat from there on out. He could feel the burn settling in across the bridge of his nose.

When he finished it was almost anticlimactic, and he didn’t feel even a tiny bit better. He was hot, he was sweaty, and he was back to having nothing to do. Running his hands through his hair in frustration, he wondered what he could harass someone into letting him do next. Maybe they’d let him help rip up the carpet?

Something cold touched his arm, and he startled, jerking away. Dakota was standing next to him, eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” he said, holding out a water bottle that was dripping with condensation. “You need to drink something.”

Jake mumbled his thanks, taking the bottle and practically inhaling the water. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty. When he was done, he flipped the bottle cap around and around between his fingers. Dakota drank his own water much slower, gaze flicking over Jake. It was making Jake nervous.

“You can help me pull up the grass, if you want,” said Dakota when he’d finished.

Jake looked at him in surprise, the bottle cap falling from his fidgety fingers. He bent to pick it up, grimacing at the wet dirt clinging to it. “Really?”

“Yeah. I can always use the extra hand. We have to clean this up a bit first, but I don’t think you’ll mind helping with that.”

“I won’t.”

Dakota clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. I’ll go put the mower back and get some bags and the blower. You can take your pick.”

“Thank you,” said Jake, completely and wholeheartedly meaning it.

“You’re welcome.” He disappeared around the side of the house, and Jake collapsed back against the dirty wall. Turning his head, he watched a roach disappear through a crack in the glass of the window to his left.

Possibly, he’d have to get an exterminator.

Day Three

RIPPING UP
grass was a lot harder than it sounded. Or possibly Jake was a lot more out of shape than he had thought. He wasn’t going to complain, though. Not when Jasper and Dakota were the only ones who would let him help. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he hunched over the shovel and tried to shove it deeper. They’d watered the yard the day before, and again that morning, in an effort to soften the earth. Jake didn’t think it had worked. He did think it made a bigger mess.

The parts of the ground that weren’t covered with grass were nothing but a muddy mess that had to be walked through to get to the islands of grass scattered throughout the large yard. He’d gotten boots just for doing this work, on Dakota’s recommendation at the end of the first day, and they looked like he’d owned them for several years already.

“How’s it coming?” asked the man in question, coming up beside Jake and clapping a hand to his shoulder.

Jake smiled at him, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “Great,” he lied. “It’s coming along.”

If Dakota doubted his word, he didn’t say anything. “Fantastic,” he said, grinning and clapping Jake again. “Don’t forget to take water breaks. You’re sweating it all out.” He walked away.

His clothes were soaking, he could feel where the material was clinging to his skin in a frankly uncomfortable way, and he could feel the sweat dripping down his face, the moisture soaking his hair. He knew he was sweating a lot. Having it pointed out was mortifying. Especially when it was pointed out by a crazily attractive man who didn’t look like a drowned rat after being outside for a couple hours.

If he’d had a solid surface to bang his head against, he totally would have.

The shovel finally went into the ground, and he focused on the task of working it under and pulling the grass up. He put his foot into the divot of the shovel and pressed, leaning back.

He possibly overcompensated.

The grass came up with a tearing sound, and, not expecting it to be so easy, he went over backward. The grass went flying over his shoulder, and as his back connected with the ground, he watched the wet hunk of dirt and grass hit Dakota square in the chest before dropping to the ground. It left behind a large dirt smudge and a significant wet spot. Dakota looked from him to the lump of grass at his feet. He stretched out his shirt to look at the dirt.

Laughter from Jasper and the construction crew could be heard, loud and boisterous as it was.

“I can see it’s coming along great,” he said dryly, one eyebrow rising up in clear judgement.

Jake closed his eyes and resisted the urge to cover his face.

Day Six

“DO NOT,
under any circumstances, cut any of your own limbs off,” warned Dakota as he handed over the tree pruner.

Jake took the pruner from him. “I’m not going to maim myself,” he said, affronted.

“Do you know how to use it?”

He looked from the pruner to the tree. “I saw with the sharp bit till the branch comes off?”

Dakota took the pruner back quickly, his lips twitching. “Come on, I’m going to show you how to do this.”

They stood under the tree, and Dakota extended his arm with the pruner firmly grasped in his hand. “You’re going to make a cut a little up from where you want the branch to end, like so. You need to watch what you’re doing so when the branch falls it doesn’t hit you. You’re going to make another cut here and another one here.” The branch fell to the ground with a thump. “It’s easy,” he said, handing the pruner back. “Once you’ve cleaned up some of the branches, we’ll move on to trimming the leaves.”

“Got it,” said Jake, running over the steps Dakota had just outlined. It definitely looked easy enough.

“Let me watch you do one,” said Dakota, dark gaze focused on Jake’s face.

Jake did not want to do anything with Dakota watching him like that. He could feel himself getting nervous just thinking about it. What if he dropped the pruner or the branch landed on him? He couldn’t very well tell him no, though.

Taking a steadying breath, fully aware of Dakota’s gaze on him even though he couldn’t see it, he stepped forward and mimicked the steps Dakota had just gone over with him. His hand shook a little at first, but he quickly steadied it, and soon the branch was falling to land beside the other one.

He stepped back and aimed a smug smile at Dakota, hiding his surprise at how smoothly it had gone. “See,” he said, “I’ve got this.”

Dakota still managed to look skeptical, but he nodded. “All right. I’m going to be working in the front yard. If you need anything, come find me or Jasper.”

“Will do,” Jake assured him.

“Don’t forget to take water breaks,” Dakota said before taking off for the front yard.

Jake thought Dakota was a little obsessed with how much water he was drinking. He watched him walk away, gaze drawn to the way his torso narrowed and his ass moved as he walked. He jerked his gaze away. There was stuff to be done.

The task was a fairly repetitive one, and Jake quickly sank into a rhythm, moving from tree to tree, collecting a growing pile of chopped branches. He left them gathered underneath the trees, unsure what he was supposed to do with them.

Jasper came by after a while, interrupting his rhythm. “There’s a couple branches higher up that need to be trimmed. Do you want me to do them?” Jasper asked.

Jake tilted his head back, noticing the branches that stuck out even more noticeably now that the bottom ones were shorter. “I can do it,” he said, not wanting to leave the job half done. He looked down at the pruner. “Is there a longer one of these?”

“I’ll get you a ladder,” said Jasper. “Hang on a second.”

He came back with a ladder that had to be leaned against the tree for balance. Jake had to grit his teeth to steel himself as he climbed it, one hand clutching the ladder, the other the pruner. He felt like he was going to fall over backward.
Deep breaths
, he told himself.
Just take some deep breaths.

Maybe he’d ask Dakota to trim the leaves if it spared him having to spend all day on the ladder.

Every time he finished one section of tree, he had to climb back down the ladder and move it, then repeat the process of climbing up it. Every now and then, it would shift beneath his weight, and he’d resist the urge to flail with panic, instead holding tightly to it like that would do any good.

He was working on one stubborn branch that had him leaning out from the ladder, balanced with his hand on the root of another branch. He tried to ignore the ground below. His tongue was between his teeth as he concentrated. The branch did not want to be cut. He jerked the arm holding the pruner.

The branch slowly began to tilt downward.

He jerked his arm again.

Down it tumbled. He gave a little cry of delight. It was echoed by a cutoff shout and a grunt of pain. He looked down.

Dakota was sprawled out on the ground, facedown. Jake’s heart stopped. Had he killed him? Dakota started to push himself up. Jake rushed down the ladder, dropping the pruner to the ground.

“Oh my God,” he said. “I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? Did it hit you? Are you all right?” He tried to help Dakota up.

Dakota brushed his hands away, moving so he was sitting upright. He had a long cut going down his forearm, and the palm of his right hand was bloody. “I’m fine, calm down,” he said. “I tripped over it. Didn’t see it coming down.” He didn’t sound mad, just rueful, and he wasn’t glaring at Jake.

Jake could feel how heated his face was, and it wasn’t because of the sun. “Stay here,” he said. “I’m going to go find a first aid kit. There’s gotta be one around here, and I’ll clean you up.”

“There’s one in the truck,” said Dakota, ignoring Jake and starting to stand. He swatted away Jake’s helping hand. “Seriously, I’m okay.”

“You’re bleeding,” pointed out Jake. “A lot.”

“And it’ll stop in a couple minutes.”

Jake kept pace with him as he headed for the truck. “Does it hurt?”

Dakota sent him an incredulous look, but he didn’t say anything. Jake worried on his bottom lip. When they got to the truck, Dakota pulled out the first aid kit, and Jake took it from him. He pushed Dakota down onto the truck bed. “Let me,” he said. “Please.”

Carefully, he cleaned the long gash on Dakota’s forearm. “Sorry,” he said, wincing along with Dakota as he rubbed the alcohol pad over the wound. “What did your arm catch on?”

“Think I hit a rock when I fell,” said Dakota. His whole face scrunched up. He reminded Jake of a pug. “If you say sorry one more time, I’m going to walk away.”

Jake started to apologize and cut himself off. He couldn’t help it. He worked in silence for the rest of the time it took to clean Dakota up and cover the areas with bandages. He caught Dakota staring down at his scraped-up hand, now swaddled up tightly. The bandage was probably overkill, but he still thanked Jake, touching his non-bandaged hand to Jake’s shoulder briefly before walking off.

It was Jasper who helped him trim the leaves.

Day Eight

THEY LOOKED
exactly the same. He couldn’t find one difference between the two stones. Dakota was staring at him expectantly. “Well,” Dakota said, “which one do you like more?”

Jake squinted. He still didn’t see the difference. “Which one do
you
like more?” he asked.

“It’s not my yard,” Dakota said. “So I don’t think my opinion matters here.”

Jake was a little surprised Dakota hadn’t whacked him over the head with the brick samples yet. They’d been shopping for going on two hours, and each decision had gone about the same. Dakota asked him what he liked, Jake asked him what he preferred, and Dakota tried his hardest not to decide for him. Jake wished he’d give it up and just make the damn choices.

“They look the same,” he finally said. “What’s the difference supposed to be?”