1. Walker

Walker

I 'm in a good mood this morning. Although, it's hard not to be when you love your job, and man, do I love my job. I slam the door on my truck after I climb out and smooth out my dark orange Oakley's Crew polo before walking into the building to get my assignment for the day.

I pull open the door and am instantly greeted by familiar faces, all bustling around the shop and getting ready for the workday. I nod at Gabe, honestly surprised he's already here. The guy has a three-year-old and shares custody with his ex-wife, but I'm pretty sure he had her last night.

That kid is cute as hell, but man, she's a handful, so Gabe is usually late. "You're here early." I can't help but say it, and Gabe gives me the stink eye. Not a big talker, that one.

"Yeah. Amber woke up in the middle of the night and wanted her mom. So I took her over to Shelly's," he grumbles, pouring hot coffee from the communal pot into a thermos. Poor guy. I don't imagine he got much sleep.

"Sorry, man," I offer, and he just grumbles a thank-you, and I keep on walking into the main room where we wait for our daily assignments. I've worked for Oakley's Crew—the best landscaping business in the county—for almost two years now, so there's no jitters anymore.

Other than excitement. I love starting a new job, and since I finished up my last one on Friday, that's exactly what I'm getting today. I grin when I see Archie walk in, dark sunglasses covering his eyes as he plops down next to me. "Will you never learn?" I tease because we're thirty, and this guy parties like he's twenty. Alas, he's still my best friend, and we've known each other since grade school. The guy isn't ever going to change.

"Sorry. We can't all be tucked in with a book at nine, grandpa."

I roll my eyes at him and of course have to raise my middle finger in his face. "Fuck you. It was ten."

He grins and is probably about to tell me all about his wild night last night but doesn't get the chance before everyone else fills in the chairs at the table, and Oakley and Travis walk in. It's time to start work.

Oakley and Travis started this company a couple of months before I joined, and it's been successful as hell. Oakley is... unique. Let's go with that. Big, huge, muscly dude. Loved playing football in high school but had a total obsession with Pinterest and making the world beautiful, so he followed his passions and opened Oakley's Crew Landscaping with his boyfriend—now fiancé— Travis.

Travis is the quieter, more reserved one of the two, and he does most of the books and scheduling and shit. Things that would bore me to tears. But he's incredibly good at what he does. The business is a well-oiled machine, and they can barely keep up with demand.

Oakley has quite the reputation around here, and we often travel one or two hours away to do jobs for people who have heard about him. He's even had offers in other states but has turned them down, wanting to keep it local.

"All right, fuckers! Who's ready for another week?" Oakley is already pumped up, and I'm not surprised at all. We all cheer like we're back in the high-school locker room because, let's be honest, we all played high-school football—there's not much else to do around western Kansas.

"Maybe we shouldn't call our employees fuckers ," Travis deadpans, but Oakley is totally unbothered.

"Said with love, of course." Oakley smacks a quick kiss on his lover's pouty mouth and then starts handing out assignments. I instantly check mine over with excitement and anticipation.

Hmm, country house about ten minutes out of town, so way out in the boonies. Wants a flower bed in front, a path from the driveway to the house, a path down to the garden, and possibly a hot tub. Big job. Yes.

I look at the part of the page that usually has a partner or partners assigned, but it looks like I'm on my own for this one.

"You good?" Oakley asks me, and I look up at him with a grin.

"Looks like fun to me. Solo job?"

"Yeah." He looks around the room no one has left yet. "We're fully booked up and kind of stretched thin. We're looking to hire more people soon, but for now, there'll be a lot of solo jobs. If anyone is struggling with that, come talk to me, and we'll figure it out."

I have no doubt he will. Oakley and Travis don't stay in the office all day. They're always out on a job when we are. Some of the hardest workers I've ever met, and I'm proud to be part of this crew.

Everyone agrees, and some start to head for their Oakley's Crew trucks as I glance at my work page again, just skimming over some more of the details.

"What the hell kind of first name is Dutton?" I wonder aloud. Dutton Collins. Interesting.

"Really, Walker ?" Gabe emphasizes my first name, and I flip him off.

"Walker is a perfectly acceptable first name."

"If you're a Texas Ranger," Archie quips. Fucking really? Always busting my balls. But that's what we do around here.

"Really?" I look at my best friend, who still hasn't removed the shades from over his no doubt bleary, red eyes. " Archie ?"

"Fuck off," he says with a smirk, and Oakley cackles.

"Really, Oakley ?" I tease my boss because even if he owns the company, he's for sure just one of the guys too.

"Watch it. I sign your paychecks," he jokes, and I laugh, standing up and getting ready to head out.

"Pretty sure your better half does that," I quip, and Travis sighs as he shakes his head, while pouring himself some coffee to put up with all of us.

Oakley just snorts a quick laugh and then smacks me on the back. "You ready for this one? It might end up being a big job. You know the drill?"

"Yup. Go see them. Find out exactly what they want. Don't upsell—but be very clear. Figure out an estimate. Get your approval. Get the customer's approval, and then all the fun starts."

"Hell yes," he says proudly before sending me on my way. I hop into a company truck and head to the address. I know my way around here since I grew up here, but I don't think I've been down this particular country road just yet.

I'm always up for an adventure though, and it's nice out here. Quiet and peaceful. I can't wait until I save up enough money to buy a house out in the country. My ultimate dream.

I pull up to the address—it's off a gravel road and leads into a circle gravel driveway. The house is old, but it's huge and seems to have been really taken care of. It's a white two-story with a giant wraparound porch that I'm pretty sure Oakley would salivate over.

The guy loves porches. Maybe I can sell him one of Oakley's custom porch swings. It would look charming as hell on this old house. I turn off the truck and then climb out, grabbing my clipboard and phone before heading up the steps and ringing the doorbell.

Oh, hot damn. I was not prepared for the man who opens the door. His dark brows are pulled up in a sort of irritated look, his full red lips in a pinched sort of pout. He has very neatly trimmed facial hair. His dark hair is longer, brushing the top of his shoulders with a slight wave to it, and his green eyes are so piercing, I nearly drop my clipboard and phone.

He's beautiful. Way too pretty to be from around here. He looks like he belongs on some sort of glamorous runway or something. And apparently, I've forgotten how to form actual words because I just stand there, staring at him like an idiot.

"Can I help you?"

I try to shake away the fog of seeing the beautiful man standing before me and get my brain to actually work. "Dutton? Dutton Collins?" Okay, there we go. There are some actual words.

"Yes." He's still looking at me suspiciously, and goddamn, do I wish I could get more words out so I could maybe help lessen that worry. He looks past me, and then his green eyes meet mine. "You're with Oakley's Crew?"

Well, at least one of us seems to be functioning. He looks at my shirt, where I proudly wear the Oakley's Crew logo, and he must have seen the name on my truck. "Yes. That's me. Well, I'm not Oakley. I'm Walker—not like the Texas Ranger. Though that guy was pretty badass." Yeah, he's frowning at me again, his dark brows all furrowed. Shut the hell up, Walker. Holy shit, you'd think this is my first job with the way I'm botching this. "I mean. I am with Oakley's Crew, but I'm Walker. Walker Murphy. Not Oakley."

"Or the Texas Ranger," he states, and I can't help but smile, my cheeks heating from the embarrassment.

"Right."

"Okay." He still seems hesitant, and I can't really blame him. "So I, um... I should show you what I'd like?"

My brain short-circuits for a moment, thinking about him showing me exactly what he likes. My brain automatically going to his naked body under mine. In front of mine. Up against a wall. In the shower.

Oh, holy shit. I need to get ahold of myself. What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I need to take Archie up on his offer to go out soon. Maybe we can go to the tavern, and I can find a non-client for my bed.

"Yes." I barely manage to say it out loud, and yeah, he for sure thinks I'm a freak. I clear my throat and try to force myself into a professional mode. "Today is all about finding out exactly what you want us to do." There. That was close enough.

He nods his head and then walks out the front door. He's wearing nice black jeans, a black t-shirt that clings to his lithe body, and some sort of black shoes that definitely give away that he's not from here.

Most people around here wear boots or tennis shoes. Not the fancy sort of loafers or whatever those are on his feet. I follow him down the stairs and to the back of the house. There's a huge yard, but it's overgrown with high grass and weeds. Yeah. This is going to be a big and hopefully longtime job. Although, it will likely be the mowing crew and not my department.

I'm more a detailed-builds kind of guy. Oakley mostly hires college and even high-school students for the mowing crew. "Obviously, I'll need the grass trimmed," he says, looking around the yard, and I bob my head in agreement. "But some of the bigger projects I was thinking about would be back there." He points further out on the property, and I squint, trying to see what he's trying to show me. But all the grass and weeds make it impossible.

"Show me?" It comes out like a question. My voice comes out in this odd sort of husky tone I should be horrified by, but then his eyes meet mine, and I swear I see a flash of something there—interest maybe? But he quickly shutters his gaze and then leads me further through the weeds.

"This used to be a garden." He points at a ton of overgrown weeds and wildflowers. "It needs a lot of work."

"Gotcha," I say, making a note. "Flower or vegetable?"

"Vegetable," he says and then looks up toward the house. "Up by the front had a flower bed. I tried to clean it up myself, but I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

He looks a little lost, and I want to know his story. Not really appropriate, but it doesn't make it any less true.

"How long have you lived here?"

He laughs, but it's kind of sad—or maybe ironic? I don't know. I'm probably reading way too much into it. "A week," he answers me. "And I don't even know if I'm going to stay. Maybe I should have just sold it."

Strangely, the thought of him selling the house and leaving town before I even get to know him sends me into a panic. It makes no sense, but for some reason, I'm desperate for that not to happen.

"Trust me on this, good landscaping will help it sell faster, if that's what you decide to do." He cocks his head to the side, trying to figure me out, I'm sure. Trying to decide whether I've put my salesman hat on. But it really is the truth, even if the reason I'm saying it might be for slightly selfish reasons. "I've seen it over and over. It helps with the presentation."

His lips purse tightly and seems to be thinking it over. "Then I should show you what else I was thinking about."

I can't help the over-the-top grin on my face and the sigh of relief.

Yes. Please.