Page 7 of Mountain Pine
“Obviously we’re making ten. Save the drafts for a down day so we’re not chasing our content tails all the time.”
He’s so smart.
When I first started making thirst traps, I felt like an absolute idiot. But I learned to get over my insecurities when I saw how much money I can make with a six-pack, dirt on my chest, and scuffed work boots. Wearing grey sweatpants fresh out of the shower is also a lucrative outfit.
Fat bank accounts foster fat egos and major confidence.
Just look at Nick. It’s a miracle his big head fits through a door at this point.
We make a bunch of quick videos—shirtless, of course—and get goofy with the trends we choose. Because that’s something else I’ve learned—this stuff doesn’t always have to be super-edited, hot, and sexy. It can be two guys having fun together. The ladies eatit up.
Once we’re done, Nick walks me back to my truck. “You got plans for later?”
“I have six properties to mow, a rose hedge to install, and a delivery to make on the other side of town. After that, I’m going home and crashing.”
“Sleep sounds nice,” Nick smiles.
“Then you should try it sometime.”
I swear I don’t know how that man functions on so little sleep all the time. It’s one of Bear Creek’s great mysteries.
“See ya, Con.” He hits the side of my truck with his palm and walks away to get back to finishing the deck.
As I’m halfway down the road, my cell buzzes with a text.
Taylor: Do you have a minute?
It’s already three in the afternoon and I’m running late for my next job. Our new guy called out sick, so I took his appointments today too. I don’t have time for a lunch break, much less a minute to spare today.
Me: What’s up?
Taylor: Can you stop by?
It takes all my restraint to turn left towards my next client instead of right and go to Taylor’s. It’s an awful habit I’ve never been able to crush. Taylor has always come first for me, but seeing that I work for her father, I really need to put my responsibilities ahead of anything else.
Especially since I’m trying to get another promotion.
Me: Not now. How about tonight around 9?
Taylor: No. It’s fine. I’m just being dumb.
My trailer squeaks so loudly when I bust a U-turn, it sounds like a banshee wailing. Shit, I’m going to need to get that looked at.
But first, Taylor.
Whenever she says something is fine, it’s not. And I hate it when she says she’s being dumb. That’s likely her boyfriend talking, not her.
And while we’re on the subject of her lame-ass boyfriend… fuck that guy. Austin has been dating her for over a year, and hasn’t once lived up to the standards I’ve set for him.
Texting my next two clients, I let them know I’m running behind and pull up to Taylor’s twenty minutes later. She lives in a tiny house with a detached garage she converted into a shop. There’s also a greenhouse in the back, which is filled to the brim with plants and reminds me of a jungle stuffed into a terrarium.
Grabbing two big buckets out of the back of my work truck, I carry them into Taylor’s shop, Gems-n-Stems. A little bell chimes when I open the door, and she looks over at me from behind the counter. Her brow knits together in confusion. “I thought you were busy.”
“Yeah, well, I had to make a delivery here anyway so…” I drop the buckets on the floor for her to see inside them.
Taylor’s eyes blow wide, and she squeals. “Holy shit!” She rushes around the counter and digs her hands into the thousands of dandelion heads I had been on my hands and knees plucking for hours.
“Oh my god, Conner. When did you have time to do this?”
