Page 10 of Burn It Down

After Ben and I broke up, I figured I’d have to move in order to find what I want, but feeling my reaction to Jake just now, I’m not even sure Iknowwhat I want anymore. Though, one thing is certain, I need to shut this down fast. He and I are from two different worlds, not to mention, he’s straight.

When Jake comes out of the bathroom, he’s on the phone. His suit jacket is draped over his arm, his tie is in his hand, and the top buttons of his shirt are still undone. I don’t see any chest hair, but Idosee the line between his pecs. I also notice where his shirt is tucked into his slacks, highlighting his tapered waist where his jacket kept it hidden.

The sight damn near knocks me on my ass.

His eyes pass over my face with a stern, no-nonsense look that I imagine gets him whatever he wants in the boardroom, and quite possibly, the bedroom, and he holds the phone away from his mouth. “Do you have measurements on that window?”

Confused, I don’t answer right away.

“Dylan, the window. Do you know how big it is?” he asks again, interrupting my embarrassingly obvious perusal of his body.

I shake my head. Mostly just to snap out of the trance he’s put me in, but he takes it as my answer to his question.

“Can you grab a tape measure?”

I don’t even nod, I just head for the shop on autopilot.

Coming back into the office, I notice Jake has put his stuff, including his phone, on the counter. The screen is lit and shows that the call is still active.

I hand Jake the tape measure and he immediately pulls it out and gives me the end. “Here, take this to that far side.” Once I’m in place, he looks down, makes a mental note of the number then flips the tape measure vertically. “Knox, the window’s six feet long and four feet high.”

“Got it. What material do you want?” the disembodied voice asks through the phone’s speaker.

Finally, my brain joins the party.

“Oh, uh, can we talk cost first? I probably need to shop around. I mean, we do alright, but we have a huge property tax bill due soon and the bastards keep raising them, so—”

“Relax. I’ve got it,” Jake says, picking his phone up off the counter, not giving me a chance to argue as he paces in front of the desk.

“I want bullet-resistant polycarb and I want it for both windows. They’re the same size. His sister works in the office and he says things are escalating. Can you bring one of those reinforced, fire-proof doors while you’re at it? Actually, make ittwo. I don’t want the door into the shop to be a weak spot.” Jake’s now walking around the office, surveying the ceiling and looks back at me. “Do you have cameras?”

“Uh, yeah, but only on the garage bays and out back where we park the cars.”

Jake talks into the phone, looking everywhere except at me. “And bring one of those new wireless security systems. The one with the cameras that look like light bulbs.” When he finally flashes me an unreadable look, he laughs. The sound goes straight to my groin. “Yeah, something like that. Just tell me how much I owe you. Any chance you can bump this up on the to-do list? Feels kind of urgent.” He pauses before laughing again. “Thanks, man. I’ll pay for the materials, but you’re doing the labor for free. You still me owe me for the bet you lost.”

I’m staring in disbelief, my mouth hanging open when he pockets his phone a minute later. “That polycarbonate is fucking expensive, man. We can’t afford that, let alone all the other stuff.”

“Knox is one of my best friends. He’s a contractor and he owes me. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?You just cashed in a thirty-thousand-dollar favor for me.”

He shrugs. “It’s just money. Knox’ll be here in two hours.”

Before I can argue any further, my dad and sister return from lunch.

“What the hell happened here?” my dad asks calmly, which tells me he already knows what happened.

“Hello, sir. I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Jacob Ellington.” Jake reaches forward to shake my father’s hand. “Dylan just finished up with my Maserati. We were about to go over the paperwork when a brick came flying through the window. A good friend of mine is coming by in a couple hoursto repair the damage and reinforce the windows and doors. I’ve also asked him to install new cameras.”

My father lets out a low whistle. “Sounds expensive.”

“No, sir. I’ve covered the costs.”

“Why would you do that?” my father asks, not beating around the bush, his eyes narrowing at Jake.

“Well,” Jake looks at my sister. “I know she works up here and that brick could have done some serious damage.” Then he looks at me and I swear his pupils dilate for a split second before he clears his throat and makes a joke to lighten the tension. “And now that I’ve found this place, I’ve got more business for you. It’s hard to find someone who has this level of expertise for both the Maserati and my old Corvette. Assuming I’ll have to leave them both here over night for periods of time, consider it protecting my investment.”

“We don’t take handouts,” my dad says, fire behind his words.

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