5. Chapter Five

"Idle hands are the devil's workshop." I was the poster child for the idiom. If I didn't have something constructive to keep me busy, I inevitably found myself making trouble or getting into it.

Since I had been working on turning my life around the last couple of years, I'd discovered I enjoyed working on houses in need of renovation. After two years of indecision, procrastination, and occasional work, I'd recently sold my first home.

So, yeah, while I enjoyed doing it, I wasn't any good at it. If I'd been out to flip houses to make a profit, I would have been bankrupt a while ago. Fortunately, I had the trust fund and big boy job that allowed me to think of buying and fixing up half-million-dollar houses as a hobby and the cushion to catch me if I screwed up.

After selling my last place, I immediately bought a new one, which was more aesthetically displeasing than I'd believed possible. But, as my realtor kept telling me, it had good bones. If it took me another two years to scrape away the layers of wallpaper covering those bones, I wouldn't be shocked…or disappointed.

Nick Garcia walked into my living room while I was doing just that. The layer I'd just uncovered had yellow rubber ducks printed on it. I wondered what the people who'd made the decision to not only purchase but painstakingly hang this wallpaper had been smoking.

And if they were willing to share.

Nope, nope. None of that, asshole.

I paused scraping to wipe the sweat from my forehead and look up at Nick. "Nice of you to knock."

He gestured toward the front door leaning beside the doorway. "I thought knocking would be superfluous, but I can go back and try again."

"For someone I just did a pretty fucking big favor for, you're being awfully sassy."

He bent down to pat me on the shoulder. "I appreciate you, man. That's why I swung by to see if I could lend a hand for a couple hours."

I didn't usually accept help. It defeated the purpose of the project. But I'd bitten off more than I could chew for the day. I was supposed to be sanding the front door—hence why it was off the frame—but my squirrel brain had decided it imperative to target the rubber ducks instead.

"You know how to sand?" I asked.

He cocked his head at the hand sander beside the door. "Yeah, I think I can figure it out."

"Cool. The goal is to go slow and get down to the wood."

He nodded. "I'll be careful." He rapped his knuckles on the door. "Solid piece."

"That's why I want to keep it. Just need it not to be orange."

He snorted a laugh. "I feel that."

Nick got to work with the sander, and I went back to scraping wallpaper, headphones on, music playing to drown out all the noise he was making.

I'd known Nick since high school. We'd been in the same friend group. I hadn't really stayed in contact with many people from school. In the ten years since graduation, I'd seen him here and there, but we hadn't been buddies who'd work on houses together, that was for sure.

Last year, after hearing about Peak Strategies, the business firm I'd opened with my friend, Saoirse Rossi, he'd gotten in touch and hired me to draw out a business plan for High Bar, from the logo down to his hours of operation. Spending that amount of time together had renewed something like a friendship.

Not high school level, but was anything ever as intense as it was when you were a teen about to burst into adulthood with fever dreams and an idealized vision for the future?

A couple hours passed quickly. Nick had gotten the paint off one side of the door and rehung it for me. Knowing myself, I would've forgotten to and woken up with wildlife roaming my living room.

To thank him for keeping me safe from raccoons and mountain lions, I ordered a pizza. We ate it on the back deck, looking over a fenced-in backyard that would be some family's dream one day. It was the one part of the house that didn't need to be stripped down and rebuilt. I just had to make the inside as nice to lure them in.

"Nice back here," Nick remarked.

"Yep. The primary selling point."

"Not the good bones?" He chuckled, tipping a bottle of water to his mouth.

"I have no vision when it comes to my own projects. I need something pretty to catch my eye. The deck and yard did that. I'm pretty sure my realtor would have claimed a cinder block prison had good bones if I'd seemed interested."

"Hey, cinder blocks are sturdy building material."

"I'll let you know next time I see a prison for sale on Zillow."

Reaching over, he backhanded my bicep. "Shut up, Aldrich, and tell me about my bar. How did everyone behave in my absence?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Not sure how they behave when you're there, but I didn't notice anything hinky." My brow crinkled. "Would have been good to be warned about the cupcake girl, though. I almost had her thrown out for hanging behind the bar, then she billed me for eating her cupcakes."

Nick burst out laughing, pressing his hands together beneath his chin. "I'm sorry, dude. I completely forgot Daisy was coming back this week or I would have told you to keep a lookout. You pissed her off?"

"Momentarily, then I paid the bill, making us square. But yeah, you told me to watch out for Bea's spikes but failed to mention the other prickly princess you employ."

"Daisy?" He shook his head. "She's nice to me. I don't know what you did to her."

"Did you hear the part about trying to throw her out of the bar?"

He ran his hand down his face, still grinning. "Man, I really should have warned you about her." He brought a slice of pizza to his mouth. "She's not my employee, though. The cupcake thing is her business. She's like a contractor."

"Huh." I grabbed another slice from the box sitting on the table between us. "Do you take a cut of her profits?"

"No, she pays me a flat fee. I don't ask for much. The customers like her vibe, and it fits with the speakeasy theme, so it's a win-win, for me having her there and her to rake in the dough."

"It's a good idea. Her cupcakes are the shit."

He swiped his mouth with a napkin and balled it in his fist. "They are. People go crazy over her charcuterie cups too. Nothing like sipping a whiskey and eating some nice cheese and cured meat."

I laughed at his tepid description. "Good thing you're not selling her meat cups. I think you'd drive customers away."

He gestured to the front of him. "I'm also not a cute girl in a skimpy outfit."

"Don't tell me you picked that out for her."

"You met her. Do you think she'd wear that if I'd told her to?"

I didn't even have to consider it. "Nope. She'd get Duke to shove your balls into your throat."

"Yep." He chuckled as he took another bite. "I should've asked—you do okay in the bar with the whole no drinking thing?"

My spine went rigid. I had next to no shame and would divulge my deepest secrets to a stranger without blinking, but this was one topic I wasn't comfortable discussing. The only reason Nick knew was because he'd noticed my lack of alcohol in the house a few months back—a massive change for me.

I'd told him I was taking a break from alcohol, which had been true, but I was banking on it being permanent. I needed it to be.

"I can't say my mouth didn't water for an ice-cold beer, but I was fine," I replied. "I distracted myself with cupcakes."

He gave me a sidelong glance. "You won't drop that, huh? You that into her cupcakes—or is it the girl?"

I shrugged. "The girl made an impression. I was thinking about texting her to acquire more of her treats."

Turning fully in his chair, he pinned me with a serious gaze. "Look, I'm going to give it to you straight. Daisy just got dicked over by her ex. They were together for six or seven years, and she's absolutely not over him. If he were to show up at her door tonight, she'd take him back in a heartbeat. That's not a girl you want to pursue right now, you get me?"

I thought back to the grouchy girl in the silly hat, picturing her with this new knowledge. Had she seemed sad? I hadn't met her before the breakup, so I had nothing to compare her to. Maybe she'd been a ray of sunshine before having her heart shattered. I couldn't imagine her like that. Being slightly mean suited her.

Not that I knew her.

Those cupcakes, though…

"I wasn't planning on it."

This was honest and true. But I also wasn't a guy who planned things, which was ironic since my business was making plans for other people. I guessed I was also the poster child for "Do as I say, not as I do."

Nick nodded. "Good. I know how you are with women. The last thing Daisy needs is to be used and discarded."

"I've never used anyone, dude. That's uncalled for."

He crushed his empty water bottle, returning his gaze to the yard. "I'm just saying, Daisy isn't like the girls you go for. She's the relationship type. A family girl. Maybe let this one go. Find your cupcakes elsewhere and leave her be."

Not long after that, Nick left. There hadn't been much to say once he'd accused me of using and discarding women. Well…I could've told him to fuck off, but that wouldn't have changed his opinion of me. Plus, it wasn't my style.

I'd agreed not to pursue her, but that was because I wasn't pursuing anyone right now. I hadn't, however, agreed not to text her for cupcakes. That was more than I could promise.

Returning to my living room, I got back to work. These fucking ducks were going down, even if they took me down with them.