CHAPTER FIVE

FERN

I trusted Alex that my current septic was shot, so saw no reason to blow more money I couldn't afford by calling another septic company and getting them out here for their assessment. That didn't mean I didn't google the hell out of it and ask around at work.

Turns out I got lucky with Parison's Septic, they were known to be honest and–best of all for me- the cheapest ones around. Cheap or not, the amount of money needed to replace the house's septic was staggering.

Since it had gotten pumped, the gurgling disappeared for a few days, and that gave me hope. I started wondering if maybe I didn't need to get the septic replaced and could sell the house as is. I got in contact with the realtor, and she quickly popped my little bubble of delusion.

"Absolutely. You could sell as is and disclose that a new septic system is needed."

I sag against the kitchen counter in relief, and then she continued.

"And see more than half the interested buyers immediately move on."

"But we'd still see some interest?" I asked, gripping the phone so tightly that my knuckles popped.

"Oh yes, and they would low ball you and we'd be lucky to get half the amount you need."

"All because they have to replace the septic?" I wailed.

My realtor sighed and I could tell she was striving for patience. "Nobody wants to undertake a big project like that immediately after buying a house. Those that do are looking to flip it for a profit, so they want to score a bargain."

It made sense, but it didn't mean I had to like it.

Basically, I was stuck coming up with the money to replace the septic so that I could sell the house and move on with my life.

Unfortunately, ten thousand dollars was far more than I could find between the cushions of my couch. I sold everything that wasn't nailed down in the house other than my bed.

Couch? Who needs one when a camping chair works just fine.

Why bother with a dresser when keeping the clothes in a laundry basket cuts down on housework? Besides, the more I got rid of now meant the less I had to pack when I moved.

I had a bit too much fun selling Jared's ski equipment and his racing bicycles. My jaw about dropped when I saw the amount I could get for those. And an angry bubble of rage filled me that my husband had spent so much money so carelessly. Why did he need three bikes when I had never seen him even once go out on a bike ride?

A rare bit of luck struck when I cleaned out the garage to sell off all the tools and found a small metal lockbox that had four thousand dollars in twenties tucked inside along with some disgusting pictures of Jared and some unknown woman engaged in various sexual acts.

For several gleeful minutes, I debated about sending them to Jared's girlfriend or his mother. Imagining the looks on their faces sent me into a bout of laughter that lasted a good several minutes. Ultimately, I ended up burning the pictures and adding the cash to my growing pile. Knowing that I could have missed out on a huge windfall if I had tossed what I assumed to be an empty toolbox, I was far more careful as I finished up searching the rest of the garage. I didn't find any more cash or pictures.

Thankfully, I was able to scrape together the full amount needed. While waiting for the work to start, I prayed that the house would sell quickly.

With all my money tied up in this septic situation, that leaves me counting every dollar I get.

Normally tips have been decent, but it's as if the universe has decided I don't have enough to stress over and has been cursing me with shitty tips recently. If that wasn't bad enough, I somehow pissed my boss Bob off, and he's been sticking me with the mid-day shifts. I can't complain for fear he'll tell me not to bother coming in anymore. I need this job. Just until the house sells.

That's become my daily mantra.

Having to suffer through a fast three-minute shower so I don't blow my septic? Just until the house sells.

Missing streaming movies? Just until the house sells.

Dying for some good Chinese takeout? Just until the house sells.

That is my light at the end of this hellish tunnel, and I just need to hold on.

My sister is still in her new place and mom tells me that they can't wait to see me again. I can't wait either.

Just until the house sells.

A rumble of unfamiliar noises wakes me bright and early one morning. Dragging myself out of my bed and padding barefoot to the empty guest bedroom across the hall, I blearily peer out the window. Several white work trucks with Parison's Septic prominently displayed on the sides in blue pour into my driveway.

Instantly I'm wide awake. It's finally happening!! I do a quick happy dance and then plaster myself to the window as the trucks park and several guys get out.

Seeking out Alex's tall, muscular form, anticipation simmers low in my belly. I've looked at the card he gave me with his number more times than I can count. There was absolutely no reason to call him, so I should have pitched his card.

Crying in front of him was embarrassing enough. I didn't need to pour out all my woes to the poor guy. Yet I held on to the card and tucked it into my purse for safe keeping.

My heart thunders in my chest as the trucks empty and still no Alex. Then the septic pumping truck pulls into the driveway, and I see his familiar profile.

He swings out of the truck with ease. Absently, I nibble on my lower lip as he joins the group of men and I find myself comparing them. He's not the youngest or the oldest in the bunch and all of them, despite the horribly early hour, seem wide awake and jovial. He grins and laughs and an ache forms as I imagine him smiling at me.

Another truck pulls up and a single, older man with a head full of iron gray hair gets out. All the guys converge on him, leading me to believe he must be the boss. After a quick chat they head into the backyard. None of them approach the front door, so I suppose I'm not needed for anything.

A chuckle sticks in my throat. What could I do to help them anyway? Dig up the old septic tank? I'd probably throw my back out or fall into the hole.

Heading back into my bedroom, there's no way I can go back to sleep, even if I don't have to be at work for several hours. I scroll through my phone for a bit before tossing a pair of shorts and a gray t-shirt on and head downstairs for breakfast.

Having to keep my food budget as low as possible, eggs have been the cheapest option for me, so that's what I have along with a mug of coffee.

A brisk knock sounds on the front door.

It's too much to hope that it's Alex.

Still my heartbeat ramps up as I open the door.

I'm greeted by Alex's grin and a husky, "Good morning, Fern".

My memory somehow didn't do him justice. He's even more handsome than I remembered with his chiseled cheekbones, straight and strong nose, and firm and full lips. His hair is shorter than before and his skin darker. Those blue eyes that have featured in several of my dreams positively glow as he smiles down at me, and I'm enveloped in a rush of warmth.

"Hi," I squeak out.

His grin widens and I want to smack myself.

I'm twenty-six years old. A freaking widow! I'm not some blushing teenage virgin who's meeting an attractive man for the first time.

An attractive dirty man. Already a layer of tan dust coats his work boots and spots his pants. There's also a sweaty tang about him that surprisingly smells good. Like mouth-watering I want to stick my face in between his hard pecs and inhale good. How can a sweat and dirty male smell this amazing?

He holds up his hand and a white five-gallon bucket swings from his thick fingers. "Your hose isn't working."

My face erupts as hot blood rushes to it. "The outside spigot was leaking, so I turned the water off."

Alex's grin drops.

Guilt consumes me like I let him down in a monumental way.

"Ummm… do you need water?"

He swings the bucket teasingly. "We do."

Opening the door wider, I step back to allow him room to pass. "You could fill it in here."

The grin is back in full force, and I almost swoon.

Leading him to the kitchen, I'm acutely aware of his bulk following closely behind me and my nipples tighten into achingly hard buds. It's only once we're in the kitchen that I remember the dirty dishes cluttering both sides of the sink.

My shoulders creep up to my ears as I clear out one side of the sink by piling the dishes up on the other side. "Sorry."

His husky laughter sends a shiver down my spine where the sound tightens something low in my belly.

"A sink of dirty dishes doesn't bother me. You forget what I do for a living."

No, I haven't forgotten. His sweaty, sun warm scent fills the kitchen and keeps my nipples hard and on display in my thin T-shirt. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth as I move aside and let him fill the bucket.

The only sound is the water splashing into the empty plastic bucket and after a while it finally loosens my tongue.

"I wasn't expecting all the trucks and guys," I say, gesturing out toward the front driveway.

He grins and leans a hip against the sink, his arms crossing over his chest and pulling the faded blue material of his t-shirt snug across his bulging pectorals.

Everything about him makes me flustered and yet I don't want to get away. If anything, I want closer. To be plastered against that big, hard body of his, to have his strong arms holding me as I rub myself all over him.

I almost groan at the mental image of him lifting me up and impaling me on his cock. It would be big and thick, like him.

"Wait. This is only the start of things."

It takes a long second before my lust-addled brain sorts out that he's not talking about anything sexual but about installing my new septic system.

Crossing my arms over my chest to hid how aroused I am, I ask, "How long should it take?"

He turns off the water and I swallow hard as his eyes seek mine out.

"Three or four days, depending on when we can get all the fill dirt here."

That catches my attention. "That fast?"

Alex grabs the bucket and hauls it out of the sink as if it weighs nothing. "We got other septic systems to do."

"Does everyone's fail all at once?" My tone is grumpy, as I think of the unfairness of it all.

"We service most of the state and parts of Maryland too."

"Oh." I really don't know what else to say to that, and I can't keep drooling over him as my eyes positively devour him.

His bright eyes flicker over me and his constant grin broadens. "We'll need to turn off the water in a bit. I'd advise you to shower now if you're going to."

My mouth goes dry as his gaze rakes over my body. My core pulses in want and I nearly whine at the sharp need pounding through me.

It's been a long time since I've experienced an explosion of lust like this. I claimed I wasn't some inexperienced virgin yet the way I'm reacting you'd think this was my first crush or first experience with sex.

This is far too intense a craving and all over a man I know nothing about other than his first name and the fact that despite his line of work, he smells like sex on a stick.

My chin jerks in a parody of a nod and I follow along as he walks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. Pushing the door open, he gives me a wink. "Have a nice hot shower, Fern."

The play of muscles in his ass has my pulse pounding as I watch him leave.

Forget the hot shower, I need a cold one to cool me off!