Page 57 of Not Looking
Joey set a barbecued rib back onto his plate and nodded. “Oh, yeah. It was cute. He was trying to hide it, but wasn’t doing a good job of it. And the friend he had with him…” he chuckled. “Let’s just say, he gave me an intentional opening to let them talk alone.”
“Really?” Robbie asked.
Joey laughed. “It was so obvious. But Craig and his omega were so focused on each other that I don’t think either of them noticed. Meanwhile, his friend and I were enjoying the show.”
“We weren’t that bad,” I objected.
He snorted. “You were. But like I said, it was cute.”
“Bringing it back around,” Aaron said. “You said you’re visiting his property this week?”
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “I need to see which of his trees he wants us to process and give him an estimate.”
“So just you and him and the trees?”
I smiled. “Yes… but…” I sighed.
Aaron hummed. “You’re worried it’s faster than he’d be comfortable with.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “I think… It’ll just be us. And I… I don’t want to be too much. I don’t want to scare him away.”
“But he knows you’ll be there for work. It’s not like you’re showing up at his doorstep unannounced. Right?”
“I told him last time I saw him that I’d be the one to go out, and he acknowledged it. And the boss—or whoever scheduled him—would have told him too.”
“I think,” Spencer started, “that you’ve done everything you can to put things in his court. He knows it’s going to be you, and he knows you’re there for work. If he seems uncomfortable, just be professional.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
∞∞∞
“Turn right onto West Lake Drive, one-quarter mile,” instructed the robotic voice of my GPS. I looked for the turnoff, flicked on my blinker when I spotted it, and pulled into the turn lane.
“Destination in approximately two miles.”
Sable Lake glittered on my left, but I kept my eyes to the right-hand side of the road. Randy had said that his honesty stand was at the bottom of his driveway, and that was probably a better indicator of where to turn than slowing down to look at every number.
I spotted the stand just as the GPS told me that I was close. I turned into the driveway and drove up the slope that led to an old—but good-sized—A-frame cabin.
The forest was quiet as I stepped from my truck, but sounds started standing out as my ears adjusted. The echoes of speedboats drifted from the lake, and the clucking of chickens from nearby. It was unbelievably peaceful.
The whine of a table saw split the air, and I followed it around the side of the cabin to see a large workshop with an open garage door.
Gravel crunched under my boots as I approached.
There was another small building next to the workshop, and what appeared to be a covered stack of firewood along one side of the cabin. Stairs led to a porch and a side entrance to Randy’s home.
Off to one side—in the shade of the trees—was a chicken coop and run, and what was obviously Russy’s run and outside shelter.
Russy barked excitedly at me, tail wagging.
“Hey, Russy,” I said. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to let you out.”
The whine dropped off to the background hum of the saw running—but not cutting—and I turned back to the workshop.
My heart flipped as I finally got a chance to see my omega in his element. He’d donned a heavy leather apron and wore a face shield with a respirator; in one hand, he held a push stick.
The saw whined again as he guided a line of boards along the blade—using the push stick to keep his hands safe as he reached the end. Then, seemingly done with the task, he reached down and turned the saw off.
