Nailing Love
© 2020 Jacob Chance
Chapter One
Him
Boots echoing on the wooden floor, I wander from room to room. My eyes curiously scan every inch of the meticulously restored space. The sign hanging on the wide front porch proclaimed the name of this cottage to be The Sands of Time. Although calling this a cottage is rather misleading. Rumored to have once belonged to a wealthy sea captain centuries ago, there's nothing small or quaint about this elegant Victorian home. Stately and majestic are two words that come to mind.
A strange tapping has my ears perking up. The sound moves closer until a golden retriever trots into the room.
“Hey, buddy,” I call out, snapping my fingers. He hurries over, and I skate my palm over the soft blond fur on his head. “What’s your name?” Squatting down, I notice the tag on his collar says Charlie. “Hey, Charlie. How’s it going, fella?” I scratch behind his ears and his eyes fall closed. “That’s it for now, Chuck. I’ve got work to do.” I straighten to my full height and continue my exploring.
Floor to ceiling shelves lined with leather-bound volumes catch my attention. I’m not here for books, but I don’t know who could resist the powerful lure of these beauties. My fingers reverently trace over the titles on the spines of each first edition. Moby Dick. Tom Sawyer. Little Women. Treasure Island. Silently, I recite the long list of classics, tallying in my head the small fortune contained within these shelves.
Interspersed between tragic and entertaining stories are some eclectic collector’s items. There’s an unattractive cast iron paper weight that’s probably worth more than the truck I drove here in and a porcelain sculpture of a half dozen donuts stacked on top of one another, topped with a chocolate munchkin. It looks so lifelike my stomach growls hungrily.
Moving to the right, I notice a picture of a child. The sterling silver surrounding the image is engraved with the word Freckles. The little, redheaded girl in the picture smiles an almost toothless grin at whoever the photographer was.
Picking up another frame, I hold it up for Charlie to see. “Is this a friend of yours, bud?” Charlie looks away from the image of a calico cat. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. He kinda looks like an annoying little asshole.” Placing the picture back on the shelf, I reach for another one on a higher ledge. Drawing it closer, I carefully inspect the face staring back at me. Green eyes surrounded by thick, purple frames sparkle up at me. Shiny, pink lips are pursed in a hint of a smile. Her red tresses fall to just above her shoulders, ending in a blunt line against her elegant collarbones. The vivid color is an attractive contrast to her ivory skin.
“Hold up a minute now, Charlie. Who’s this?” I tap the glass with my fingertips. “Is this your mom?” Staring at the image, I fall into her beguiling eyes and lose track of everything around me. I forget I’m in someone else’s house and the reason why I’m here. Her pink lips remind me of the sweetest candy, and I bet they taste as good too. My heart kicks up a beat behind my ribcage as l sense that I'm no longer alone.
“Can I help you?” A female voice behind me trills.
Placing the picture back on the shelf, I slowly turn. “Hi.” I flash an embarrassed smile. “I was just getting acquainted with Charlie.”
Her wary expression shifts to welcoming and she holds her hand up. “Oh, wait a sec. Are you the contractor? My uncle told me to expect you.”
“The contractor. Yes, that’s me.” Extending my hand, I clasp hers gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Cora. Ma’am makes me feel ancient.”
Eyes slowly skimming her from head to toe and back up again, my tongue drags across my bottom lip. “The only thing ancient here is your house. You seem to be holding up fine.” I wink.
“Oh. Uh,” she flounders for words, and her discomfort is adorable. Her cheeks pinken and she wrings her hands nervously. Do compliments really make her this uncomfortable?
“Remind me of everything you’re looking to have done. When I spoke with your uncle he told me you’d go into more detail about the project.”
“Oh, right.” The hand twisting ceases and she crooks a finger my way. “Follow me.” With purpose in her stride, she leads me through one spacious room after another.
I do my best to take in all the details of the historical home as she proudly points them out, but the gentle sway of her heart-shaped ass temptingly wrapped in cutoff shorts is a sight I can’t resist. No matter how much I try to focus on architectural details like dentil moulding, my eyes keep pinging back to those alluring curves.
I’m not sure there’s a single man alive, and very few women for that matter, who could resist this temptation. And the white strings hanging from the bottom edge of the denim? Fucking fascinating.
What would happen if I tugged on them?
Would the material unravel inch by inch until her round ass cheeks popped out?
My dick twitches at the vision and I have to discreetly adjust myself through my jeans. Fuck me. Get it together. This is a job. A job I need. I sternly caution myself.
“As you can see, there’s been quite a bit of damage to the floor in here.” She points to the watermarks and bowed boards in the corner of the bedroom. I don’t use this room, so I’m not sure how long it’s been this way.”
Crouching down, I press on the boards, finding them spongy and clearly rotting. Rising, my hands land on my hips. “I’d say it’s been a decent amount of time. Wood doesn’t rot overnight. But you can replace this floor ten times and the same thing will repeatedly happen unless we fix the problem causing it.”
“That’s the thing, I’m not sure what the culprit is. Water didn’t come in during a storm, and the sea never gets this high. It’s one of the advantages of this location.”
“What’s on the other side of this wall?” I rap my knuckles against the striped wallpaper.
“A bathroom, but no one really uses it. I live here alone, and I can’t tell you the last time it was used.”
“And you haven’t had any guests in the past six months?”
Her eyes widen, the green shade appearing emerald against the exposed whites. “I had a cousin staying here a few months ago.”
“If I had to guess without doing any exploratory demo, I’d say you have a pipe issue in that bathroom.”
“Oh crap. That sounds like a lot of work. How are you with pipes?”
Innocent as her question may be, I can’t resist drawling, “I’m great at laying pipe.” I can tell the instant my suggestive reply hits its mark. Her gaze lowers and her cheeks flush just as I anticipated. Her hands clasp in front of her for some more wringing, until Charlie wanders in distracting her. Damn. She’s so cute all flustered.
“Charlie, what’s up, boy?” she questions. He ignores her and continues my way for some head scratching. I’m happy to oblige him. I’ve been wanting a dog, but I don’t have that kind of spare time to devote to anyone. Not even for man’s best friend.
“Wow, Charlie doesn’t like many people. He’s usually a great watch dog. I’m not sure what happened today. Normally, a person wouldn’t get past the threshold of this house without Charlie holding them up.”
“Is that why your door was unlocked?” I have to admit, I was surprised to find the house wide open.
“It's a habit, and probably a bad one. Most of the houses in this area are unlocked. We go to the beach and don’t want to carry keys with us.” She shrugs. “And everyone knows everyone. Many of the families have been here for decades, some even centuries.”
“Well, it’s good you have Charlie then. Dogs are the best judges of character. He knows I’m not a danger to you or him.”
“He even growls at my mom. And no one loves me more than her.”
“What about a boyfriend?” I blurt out before I can restrain myself.
“No.” She shakes her head. “No boyfriend.”
How is it possible that this sex kitten librarian doesn’t have a man panting after her twenty-four seven? Are all the men in this area blind?
“Let me show you the rest of the stuff I need fixed,” she inserts quickly before crossing the room. I’m getting used to her shy, reticent ways. She’s a bit awkward and I like it. I like it a lot. I catch up with her in the hallway.
“The next project is in the kitchen.” She points back to the way we originally came from.
Side by side, bare arms brushing, we retrace our steps. I’m painfully aware of her next to me. Her subtle, floral scent teases my nose, making my head spin with want. Goddammit. Being in her proximity has my testosterone raging like a teenager, and not the forty-year-old man I am.
I run my hand back and forth over the top of my buzzed hair, the short, dark strands are soothing against my palm. It’s a nervous habit I haven’t been able to kick since my army days. I also kept the no fuss military style haircut I was forced to have. I’m not the type to fuck around styling it. Christ, I can’t be bothered to shave more than once or twice a month. It’s not like I have anyone but myself to impress.
My eyes flick to the beautiful woman next to me. What does Cora think of my appearance? Can she see past my scruffy face and guarded eyes?
What does it matter anyway? It’s not like a bombshell like her would ever want anything to do with a guy like me. She lives in a multi-million dollar beach house. I live in a small cottage on a remote part of the coastline that’s barely more than a shack compared to most of the houses in this part of Newport. Talk about polar opposites.