Archer
“What needs to get done next?”
“Well, let’s see.” Jacob scratches his jaw and then points at the truck parked in the drive. “The tires still have winter air in them. Can you take it to get switched out with some of that spring air?”
I resist the urge to release a beleaguered groan, but barely.
All morning, it’s been like this. He sent me to get him a left-handed screwdriver and a back saw.
He asked me to check the size of his coveralls, and as soon as I was behind him, he ripped the biggest fart I’ve ever heard.
I’ve been indulging him through most of it, but my patience is fraying. There is actual work that could be done, and he’s just making things harder for himself and Finley. “Listen, I get it. You want to mess with me because you think I’m the bad guy. But I swear to you, I’m not.”
The lazy grin he’s been throwing around all morning is gone when he stares me down and asks, “What are your intentions with my sister?”
I straighten to my full height. “Your sister is a grown woman who can handle herself.”
“That’s not really an answer.” He glares at me.
“I promise you, I have no nefarious intentions against you or your sister. I respect her.”
He frowns. “What? You don’t respect me?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I might respect you more if you stop sending me to get things like fallopian tubing or spirit level bubbles.”
The grin returns, spreading his cheeks. “Come on, that was funny.”
I shake my head. “You’re wasting good help. Do you want to continue with the pranks, or do you want to actually accomplish something today?”
He stares at me for a few long seconds, considering. “Fine. You’re right. But if you step out of line with my sister, this is a large property, and I know how to bury a body.”
I nod, my stance relaxing. “I’m glad you’re protective of her.”
“Of course I am. She raised me. She’s my sister, but she’s also the only mother I’ve ever known.”
Something tugs inside me at his words, but before I can examine my reaction too closely, he blows out a breath. “Come on. Let’s go fix the trim and check the porch on cabin six. Last guest mentioned a loose screw in a board on one of the steps.”
I follow him over to the garage to grab more supplies.
“I guess you’re more than some hotshot from the city, huh?” He hands me a toolbox.
“My first job in high school was with a local contractor.” I take it from him.
He picks up his own box of tools and looks me up and down. “No wonder Finley hasn’t shot you yet.”
An hour later, we’re getting into a groove, working together pretty well, actually. He’s not being a total ass except for the occasional ribbing, so we’re managing to accomplish some things when Taylor shows up with sandwiches.
Before she relinquishes the food, she motions for us to keep working, and she takes some pictures of me, sweeping and dusting inside the cabin. She tries to get me to pose for a few of them, but I manage to dissuade her.
I don’t mind helping Finley and the cottages, but the man-candy idea is distinctly unappealing.
We eat lunch in the sunshine on the front porch, Taylor keeping up a steady stream of conversation, talking about her travels, the last music festival she went to, and the upgrades she wants to make to her VW bus. She’s like a bright bubble of happiness, and I can’t help but wonder at the contrast between her life and Finley’s.
I haven’t seen Finley since earlier this morning, when she told me I would be working with Jacob. She kept a complete stone face as she also told me that she couldn’t answer any questions later, since Taylor will only be here a couple of days. She wants to spend some time with her family, but I am free to question Jacob about whatever I want while we work together.
After all that, she disappeared without a second glance.
Once we’re done eating, Taylor pulls out her cell phone and shakes it at me.