TWENTY-EIGHT

Her softly whispered words wipe the remaining shadows from my soul.

Leelo

“Mom, grab me a bottle of water?”

I look up to see him peeking over the edge of the roof.

“Roar want one, too?”

“Sure.” I hear his voice but I can’t see him. This is the second day the guys have been working on the roof. The materials were dropped off early yesterday morning, and they’ve been at it for two days, while I’ve been wandering around rather aimlessly.

Two days have gone by. 

Two days and my head is still trying to adapt to some of the new realities.

I came to the Whitefish Motel determined to give my life new content, and with every step I’ve taken it seems I’ve had roadblocks thrown in my path. I never thought my son would follow me here, and I certainly never expected to find a neighbour who would become such a permanent fixture in my daily existence.

There is nothing that’s really gone according to plan, so I’m not sure why I’m so reluctant to let go of the vision I came here with. If anything, I’ve proven these last couple of years that I can be in the moment.

Shit, my ink and my hair colour are evidence of that.

Yet here I am, agonizing over a proposal that secretly excites me with possibilities, but it requires a leap of faith. Again. I already took a giant one, moving here in the first place. I find myself, once again, on the edge of a cliff with nothing but beauty in front of me, but afraid to let go of the crumbling stability under my feet.

All I have to do is leap. Grab hold of the new opportunities opening up. God knows I want to, but years of practicing conventional wisdom and the sound of my mother’s voice in my head get in the way. I imagine it spouts every caution and concern that has been grinding through my head, and I’m about sick of myself.

No one is holding a gun to my head. No one is forcing me into anything. The choice is all mine, and if I don’t go for it; I know I’ll regret it forever.

I’m the only one holding back.

I walk back out with a couple of frosty bottles of water and drop them in the bucket underneath the ladder. Matt’s head sticks over the edge at the sound and immediately pulls the bucket up by the rope attached to the top rung of the ladder.

“I want a proper restaurant, a diner,” I call up, surprising myself. “I want to gut the living room and kitchen of the house, and I want to incorporate that into the dining area. I want the main kitchen opened up, so everyone can see what goes on in there. I want to open from breakfast to two o’clock every day and do boxed lunches for those who want it. I don’t want to do dinner. I’m sick of doing dinner. It gives me a headache trying to think up meals.”

I keep talking when Roar’s head appears beside Matt’s, both men looking at me strangely, but it doesn’t matter, the cork is out of the bottle and there’s no stopping now. “The top floor of the house can be converted into a one-bedroom apartment with a multi-level walk out deck that also serves as separate entrance. I’d like to see if it’s possible to turn units one, two and three into two housekeeping units with full kitchen facilities like number eight. One less unit, but twice the opportunity for long-term rentals. Also,” I continue, as I tick off the mental list I seem to have accumulated. “That ugly plastic siding has to go. I want that replaced with beams, or something that makes it look rustic, like the lodge.” I watch as Roar slowly comes climbing down the ladder and stops in front of me, putting his hands on my hips, a half-smile on his lips. “And I’d really like this parking lot and driveway paved, I’m sick of gravel.”

“Matt?” he calls up to where my son is still hanging over the edge of the roof, but his smiling eyes never leave mine. “Can it be done?”

“Some things easier than others,” my son says with a grin. “I would need a few guys, a licensed plumber and electrician, and we’d have to get proper drawings done up and permits sorted. It would have to be done in a certain order, but I think it can be done.”

“Good,” Roar says, a full smile cracking his face wide open, as he wraps his arms around my middle and lifts me clear off my feet, shoving his face in my neck. “Are you planning on renting out that apartment?” he mumbles softly, and now it’s my turn to smile.

“Eventually.”

-

The next afternoon the three of us are piled into my Jeep and on our way back from Sault Ste. Marie.

We sat on Roar’s porch last night and hammered out an agreement. Matt was there to give practical feedback on the construction timeline and an off-the-cuff cost projection, so we’d have an idea of the kind of money needed. I was surprised to find out that Roar didn’t even flinch at the number Matt spouted off.

As luck would have it, Matt had already made an appointment with a lawyer in Sault Ste. Marie for noon today, as per Charlotte’s suggestion, and he apparently was able to fit us in right after. It was my choice not to go with Henry Kline, mainly because he’s really more Uncle Sam’s lawyer than mine, and I still didn’t feel quite right that his firm represents Kyle Thompson.

“Oh my God, this is so good,” I groan, licking the foam from my Starbucks caramel macchiato off my lips. “I missed it.”

I made Roar pull in when I saw the familiar logo. Wawa doesn’t have one. I know, because I looked. Tim Hortons is more Wawa’s speed and normally I don’t mind, but nothing beats the foamy sweet treats Starbucks has to offer.

He went through the drive-thru and almost choked when the girl told him it would be almost fifteen dollars for three coffees. Matt ordered his cafe latte in the back seat and of course Roar just wanted a regular coffee. A term the girl at the window was not familiar with, so I ordered him an Americano. It really threw him off when I explained what an Americano was.

“So basically you ordered me a regular coffee,” he pointed out, confused, which made me giggle.

“They don’t do regular coffees at Starbucks,” Matt piped up from the peanut gallery.

“Apparently they do,” Roar grumbled. “They just don’t know it.”

I didn’t say another word, and avoided even looking at him while he paid the girl, but couldn’t hold back the moment that nectar of the gods hit my taste buds.

“So good,” I repeat, with a sideways glance at Roar who takes a sip of his cup. “And?” I prompt.

“Not bad, but not five fucking dollars worth of good, either.”

“Think of it as our version of champagne, a celebratory drink,” I tease.

“That’s overpriced, too.”

I leave him alone the rest of the drive, and listen while he and Matt make plans. Sounds like they’re going to be busy for the foreseeable future.

Suddenly it hits me; I have nothing to do. The motel will be under construction and I’ll be twiddling my thumbs the whole time. It’s gonna drive me around the bend.  Fuck. I don’t even know if I’ll have a place to stay.

“I should’ve thought this through more,” I mutter and can feel Roar’s eyes turn to me.

“Second thoughts? Already?”

His eyes scan my face and I’m sure the panic I feel is all over it.

“What the hell am I supposed to be doing?”

I see him bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing, but before he has a chance to answer, Matt leans forward between the seats.

“What do you think you’ll be doing?” Matt fires off. “Sitting on your ass watching us? Hell no. A project this size needs all hands on deck. You wanted to be equal in everything, right? Well, then get ready for bruises and blisters, because you’ll be covered in them after the first week.”

With that he scoots back in his seat, a smug grin on his face as Roar barks out a laugh.

Well, that stuns me silent. Roar puts his hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze.

“You okay?”

I’m sure when I look at him it’s no longer panic he sees on my face, but excitement instead. My wheels are spinning.

“I need a tool belt,” I blurt out. “And I really want to use a nail gun.”

I hear Matt groan in the back seat and beside me Roar sighs deeply. Guess my guys don’t like the idea of me handling power tools, but they’ll just have to suck it up, because I can’t wait.

Roar

Fuck me.

This has been a frustrating week.

I know it takes time to get a project like this off the ground, but I’d hoped we could at least start knocking down some walls. That, however, requires the original building plans so we can make sure not to rip out a load-bearing wall or damage any pipes. Those plans, including any upgrades or changes Sam made since, are at Kline, Kline & McTavish, but they’ve been giving us the run around.

My guess is Henry found out Leelo went to the big city to see a lawyer and he’s not liking the loss of her business.

“You’ve reached Kline, Kline & McTavish. Our opening hours are nine to five, Monday through Friday. If you know your party’s extension, please dial it now. Or you can leave a message in our general mailbox.”

I slam the phone down on my desk. I don’t even know why I tried, it’s not like I didn’t get the same damn answering machine all day yesterday as well.

First time I called was Friday morning, and the woman who answered explained that I would have to speak with Henry Kline directly but sadly he was in meetings all day. That started a discussion around what might be a good time to call back and resulted in me losing my temper, at which time Leelo grabbed the phone and tried. She didn’t get much further, only able to leave a message for him to call her back as soon as possible. Of course that didn’t happen.

By the time four thirty rolled around on Friday, we were back on the phone, only to be told Henry Kline had left for the day, and although he might pop in over the weekend, she couldn’t make any promises. We’d have to wait until Monday.

It’s Sunday, and yesterday wasn’t so bad, with the arrival of a bunch of new guests at Jackson’s Point, but today pretty much sucks.

Thank God Matt and I got our trucks back last week, because sharing one set of wheels between the three of us was getting old, and with his truck back, Matt’s been using the time to do some small projects at his new place. We haven’t seen much of him.

Leelo has been hanging out here, with me, bored out of her gourd and therefore baking in my kitchen. I just hope my guests don’t think the baskets of muffins she delivered to each cottage this morning are the norm, because they’ll be in for disappointment.

To top it all off, what was a small fire at the northeast edge of Lake Superior Provincial Park is steadily growing in size and moving fast. There’s a chance our small Wawa volunteer crew is going to be mobilized to assist and when that happens, it’ll be all hands on deck and that includes me. Timing sucks.

I can smell her before I hear her. Cinnamon with the subtle undertones of banana. Her colourful arm comes around me, setting a plate on my desk with a thick, steaming slice of what I assume is banana bread, lathered with melting butter. I lean back in my chair until I can feel her body and she drops her arms over my shoulders, hugging me from behind.

“Hey, Sunshine,” I mumble in greeting, dropping my head back so I can look up at her.

“Hey yourself.” She smiles, before leaning in for a peck.

When she starts to pull back, I raise my arm and catch my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her head back down. This time I kiss her properly, slipping my tongue between her lips and tasting her deeply. Cinnamon, banana, and Leelo. Fucking delicious.

Without breaking the kiss, I swivel my chair around and with my other hand pull her onto my lap. Now I can have both my hands free to explore. Her hands come up, tangle through my beard, and along my jaw, before sliding over the short hair on my head. She gasps in my mouth when my fingers find her hardening nipple and lightly twist. My girl likes a little edge. Something I discovered when I slapped her naked ass getting out of the shower this morning. Her mouth, already swollen from taking my cock, fell open, and for a moment, I thought she was pissed, but the next thing I know, a deep flush spread over her chest and that pink little tongue of hers slipped out for a leisurely lick.

“Honey,” she mumbles breathlessly and I love the sound of that word from her lips. She uses it more and more.

“I want to strip you down, and have you ride me in this chair, those fucking fantastic tits bouncing in my face,” I growl, getting harder at the thought.

It wouldn’t take much either. Already I have one hand shoved down the back of her shorts, my palm full of her glorious ass and fingers teasing her crack, while the other is kneading her tit under her shirt. Despite the flash of heat in her eyes at my crass suggestion, she puts a restraining hand in the middle of my chest, gently shaking her head.

“Honey, it’s the middle of the afternoon, someone could walk into your office any time.”

“We’ll lock the door,” I suggest, but she’s already leaning away, grabbing the plate off the desk where she placed it.

“It’s not why I came in here. I need you to try this banana loaf.”

I open my mouth to tell her I’ve already tasted it and deemed it delicious, but I don’t get a chance. She takes the opportunity to shove a piece of the bread between my lips. I have no choice but to chew.

“It’s good,” I manage around the bite and barely swallow it when she pops another piece in my mouth.

So it’s not hot bouncy sex in my office chair, but having Leelo sit on my lap and feed me her baking by hand is not altogether bad either. Until the phone rings.

“Jackson’s Point,” Leelo answers, since I’m still chewing. “One moment, please.” She hands the phone to me, a concerned look on her face.

“Got the call, Doyle. We’re heading out from the station in an hour. Don’t make me wait.” The chief hangs up without waiting for an answer or giving me a chance to ask any questions.

This is the first time in a couple of years I’ve been called in. I’ve missed the adrenaline rush, and part of me is excited at the prospect, but I certainly don’t miss having to leave behind loved ones with only worry to keep them company.

“Fire’s getting out of hand, Sunshine. I’ve gotta go.”

I watch her close her eyes and take a deep breath in, exhaling through flared nostrils, strain already visible on her face.

“I love you.”

At least that’s what I think she says, I could barely hear it.

“Leelo?”

Her eyes pop open and she cups my face in her hands, leaning in so the tip of her nose is touching mine.

“If you’re going out there risking your life, you should do it knowing that I love you.”

I mirror her hold as I lift my hands to hold her face.

“I know,” I whisper, pressing my lips against hers. “But it feels so fucking good to hear you say that.”