Jake grabbed his pencil and one of the boards, double-checking his notes to make sure it was the correct one, then grabbed the measuring tape and started marking out the cuts. “They’re opposite of each other, so the tabs line up with the gaps and vice versa. We rough it out with a flush-cut saw, then go in with hammer and chisel and clean it up so it fits perfectly together. And then lots of glue.”
“It’s just glue? And that holds?”
“For this, sure.” He interlocked the fingers on both hands, then pushed and pulled. “The glue helps reinforce, but because of the shape of the dovetail, it limits where it can slip at all. You use them on the corners and gravity isn’t pulling them along the side where they would actually slide apart. Probably the most secure joint, until you get into some crazy stuff.” Jake let his hands drop. “If this was a seat or something like that, I would reinforce it with some dowels. But it should be just fine for what Quinn needs it for in there.” He almost slipped that out without the name stinging his tongue. Almost.
Ozzy leaned back against the table. “He really wasn’t just a fling, huh? Shit.” Ozzy chewed on his bottom lip, then pushed himself off from the table and headed for the tent exit. “I’ll be back.”
It took Jake a couple seconds to catch up, then he turned around and followed behind. “Are you on something? You’re way, like…I don’t fucking know, weird and all over the place.”
“Fuck off. If I had drugs, don’t you think I’d be happier?” He turned, walking backwards so he could keep up the conversation. “I’m not going to understand this woodworking stuff. Way beyond me. So I’m going to do something I can actually pull off.”
“Yeah, still doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m trying to be nice for a minute. God—” The rest of his sentence cut off with a shout as his heel caught that damned root and he slammed over onto his ass with a wince.
Jake jogged over, taking in the scene. He hadn’t smacked his head and he wasn’t screaming in pain or anything. So he stood, hands on his hips, just looking down at Ozzy. “If only someone would have told the landscaper on the crew about that fucking root, huh?”
Ozzy glared at him, his face going the brightest shade of red Jake could remember. And then he grinned. “I’ll make two stops while I’m out. Need to hit a garden center on the way.”
Jake offered his hand down and Ozzy took it. When he was on his feet again, Ozzy grabbed his shoulders. “Sorry for being a dick. I’m going to try to make it right. But not with that woodworking. I don’t think it would be pretty if I tried to do something that fiddly.”
Jake shook his head. “Was that the entire point you were trying to make?”
“Well yeah. I wasn’t being subtle. I knew full well if you asked me to do anything other than cut some wood, I’d be useless. Andall the wood was probably already cut.” He poked Jake in the chest. “You’ve got plenty of smarts about shit I don’t. That’s why Pine Point works as a team, not a bunch of people on our own.”
In spite of himself, Jake smiled. Then he let it actually go, covering his face, and wrapped Ozzy in a hug. “You’re still a douchebag.”
“No argument from me.” He slapped Jake on the back a couple times, then pulled out of the hug. “Don’t make any decisions about the show right now. I’m not done.” He stepped away, carefully maneuvering around the exposed tree root, then headed for the SUV they’d come in. “Go build a thing or something.”
“Okay, but I still don’t know what the hell is happening. And we still haven’t gotten past the Quinn thing.”
“That’s why I said not to make any decisions yet.” He talked to the driver, then made his way around the front, to the passenger seat. “Just give me a shot to make things not as shitty as I left them.”
As he said it, Jake put the pieces together and jogged across the lawn, reaching the back door of the SUV as Ozzy was buckling in. He climbed in and strapped himself into the seat. “If you’re talking to Quinn, I’m coming. I have some apologizing to do too.”
“Good. I could use those muscles to haul the mulch I’ll need for the yard.” As they backed out of the driveway, Eliza stared at them from the porch. Ozzy rolled down the window and shouted at her, “Give us an hour.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then threw her hands up and waved for them to go, which was apparently good enough for the driver.
Chapter thirty-six
Quinn
Quinn had gotten areprieve after wrapping up work on that last job. Which sucked balls. He didn’t want nothing to do. Nothing to do led him to rewatching the Pine Point Fixer Uppers videos he’d already been through.
That and drinking. It had been a couple days, so he’d needed to get another bottle of vodka delivered. A screwdriver was an easy enough drink to make without putting in any effort, and it helped him get drunk. Because drunk calmed the cognitive dissonance. He knew full well he should unsubscribe from the channel. Block it if he could. Move the fuck on and divest. But he also wanted to keep watching, seeing Jake there with him, even if he couldn’t bring himself to have him there in person.
So he drank. Not blacking out, just until he felt warm and fuzzy and could enjoy watching Jake’s muscles writhe and ripple ashe swung a sledgehammer through a wall, knock out posts, slide wood through a table saw. The others were there too.
Bang bang.
Quinn groaned and headed for his front door and opened it up, ready for his lunch.
“We’re coming in.” Ozzy stuck his shoulder into the gap of the door and muscled past Quinn. Maybe if Quinn hadn’t been buzzed already, he would have fought back, but it seemed to happen so fast. Suddenly Ozzy was inside…and Jake. Real Jake, not video Jake from four years ago. His brows furrowed when he looked at Quinn, and his eyes were dark, but it was definitely him. That wish fulfilled, even if he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be.
I’m not mad about it.
Ozzy was a different question. “I don’t think you were invited.”
