“Oh, Quinn!” He tapped at the bandage and rolled his eyes. “This is just a professional hazard. I’m fine. Did you stop by and get your mic and everything?”
Quinn patted his lower back, where they’d clipped the pack onto his waistband. “They descended like vultures. On the off-chance I actually say something interesting for once.”
“You say lots of interesting things.” Jake walked over. “What’d you come for?”
“I couldn’t stare at the computer screen anymore and I figured I’d see what you were doing over here, see if there was anything I could help with where I wouldn’t just be in the way.” That was all true, but he wanted to see Jake too. That, however, wasn’t the sort of thing he was going to air out in public. Not for himself, and not without Jake’s permission.
“We could use some extra hands to get these shelves up. Just be careful, they apparently bite.” He jerked his head toward Mason. “But we’ll keep you safe.”
The cameras swooped in to record and Quinn smiled. “All right. Where’s it going exactly?”
“They already drilled the pilot holes.” Mason pushed past the two workers still talking with him and pointed to the ceiling, above where the cabinets stretched out into a peninsula. A sheet of plywood had been set on top, covering the opening, and had boot prints all across the surface.
Jake climbed up on there, then offered a hand down to Quinn. “You good using a drill? I can hold it in place and you just drive the bolts in.”
“Driving bolts. Sounds masculine.” He grabbed Jake’s arm and his stomach lurched as he was half-dragged—maybe more like eighty percent-dragged—up to stand next to Jake. Without a lot of room. He smelled like sawdust and chemicals and some underlying, rich, floral thing that was probably his deodorant or body wash or whatever. Quinn had to resist the urge to sniff deeply.
Jake grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him over to the center, then one of the gray-clad workers climbed up on theother side. Jake nodded and handed Quinn a teal hand drill, fitted with a hexagonal socket instead of a normal bit. “Once we get it into position and secure, start screwing.” He pointed to the bolts, currently fitted in holes in the metal flanges of the shelving unit. “Should be easy-peasy, but if you think something’s going to go wrong, shout.”
“Got it.” Linda and the other crew member handed the shelving unit up and the three of them took hold of it. Quinn nodded to Jake. “It’s really light.”
“That was the goal. We’re going straight into the ceiling joists, but it’s still better to keep the weight down as much as possible.” He and the crewman took all the weight of the shelves and hoisted the unit above their heads. Jake’s shirt hem went right along with it, and Quinn had zero self-control, had to take a peek yet again, even though he had pictures of it in his pocket at that exact moment.
He forced his gaze away to look up at the ceiling. Once the bolts stopped sliding around and the metal looked flush, he raised up the drill, caught onto the head of the first bolt, then depressed the trigger and drove it straight upward.
Once he got the back-right flange secured, Jake said, “All right. Move to the opposite corner. Then it should be secured and we won’t risk it falling on anyone.”
Quinn did as instructed, getting awfully cozy with the mysterious crewman in the process, but it was short work. Linda and the other member of her team were holding the plywood steady so it didn’t shift under their feet while they walked on top of the makeshift counter.
When those were sunk in, Jake and the worker tentatively pulled their hands back, but stayed up while Quinn finished drilling the shelving in place. Once he did, Jake pulled on the bottom shelf, then flashed a wide, goofy smile to Quinn. “Allright. Good work. I think I might bring you on as an apprentice if you’re already doing work this good.”
Quinn shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever you say.” He flexed with the drill, not allowing his mind to drift to the picture of Jake flexing…not too much, anyway. “I’m all man. I’ll just intimidate the wood into submission.”
Jake’s eyes sharpened, just for a second, and Quinn caught the accidental innuendo.Not touching that with cameras around.
Jake held out his hand for the drill and Quinn pulled it back against his chest. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. What if I want to help out? I kind of liked being able to actually put some of the house together instead of just cleaning up and sorting.”
Jake brought his hands back to his chest, then jumped down to the floor, stumbling over his feet and almost face-planting before catching himself and spinning back around. “Well, I don’t think anyone’s going to stop you from helping out today. But it’s not all going to be this much fun.”
“Put me to work, boss man.”
Jake held out his hand again and Quinn took it, easing down off the plywood. But Jake didn’t let go, just held him in place for a few seconds, calluses biting into Quinn’s palm. Then he turned him around and pointed him toward Mason. “He’s the boss man here. Keeps us all on track, manages the concept, makes sure people go where they need to go.” He gave Quinn a little shove toward Mason. “I found you a new worker. Free labor and everything.”
Mason smiled. “I think we can do something with that.” Mason pointed toward the front door. “Let me look through everything that needs bodies and we’ll see where we can fit you in.”
Landscaping definitely wasn’t as much fun as getting to install something pre-made, that much was clear after the first half hour of digging holes along the edge of the front porch. Not planting anything yet, just digging little holes, measuring the distance, then moving on.
Ozzy swung by when he was about three-quarters of the way through and squatted down beside him. Not helping him—doing it as a two-person job would probably just screw it up anyway—but sticking close. “How you liking getting some dirt under your fingernails?” He held up his own hands by way of demonstration and, sure enough, he had soil all around his nails and caked into every crease on his hands.
“I don’t think I’ll be taking up competitive gardening any time soon.” He sighed and moved on to the next hole. “But I can’t lie, it’s pretty nice to get my body moving a little more.” Which was absolutely the truth. He worked a sedentary job and didn’t go out. He used to have a gym membership, but he only used it once a month, when the bill came due, so he eventually canceled it. Some exercise at home, and walking to the corner store. “I get how all of you stay in such good shape if this is what you do every day.”
“Oh, flattery will get you everywhere. With the others. I’m just here to be a taskmaster.” He grinned and moved along, following Quinn’s path. “You probably want to go back through, widen some of those holes out. We’ll check when it’s time to plant, but I think the spicebushes are going to want a little more space.”
“Spicebushes?”
Ozzy pointed across to where the plants were all waiting to be sunk into the ground, specifically to a pair of large, yellowbushes. “Native species. They’ll brighten up the front a little bit and they don’t have the strongest smell, but it’s nice. Citrusy. They’ll bring a lot of vibrancy and life to the landscape, though. Birds and butterflies love them, little critters like squirrels. And theleavessmell heavenly when you crush them.” He sighed. “Plus you can allegedly use them for tummy troubles, but I’m a landscaper, not a doctor, so don’t trust me with any of that.”
Quinn scanned over the collected plants. He had no idea where all of them were actually going, but they certainly brought a vibrancy and color to the space that wasn’t there before, even just being clustered there next to the sidewalk with their root bulbs exposed.
