Page 46 of Real Fake Husband

I can’t help but melt a little.

“Perfect,” Cal says, putting his arm around me again, causing all the butterflies to have a dance party in my stomach. “See, even Matilda knows you need a break to loosen up.”

As she walks away, she mouths, “Oh, myLord,” and fans herself.

I only sigh and shake my head. It’s bad enough Kaylin is drooling over these two, now Matilda is too.

Traitors. Traitors, the both of them.

19

CAL

We walk into a wave of noise.

The main garage is almost complete, and the guys are in the process of installing larger pieces of equipment. Power tools can be heard, and below the sound, an old radio plays heavy metal.

Immediately, I spot the new contractor, Charlie Holland, a lively Irishman with disheveled dirty-blond hair and a braided beard—maybe somewhere in his thirties or early forties—giving orders to some of the men.

“Once ye feckin’ get back, I want ye going ninety. It’s stopped rainin’ so just get on with it. The riggings have all been installed, and once the lads are clear of the area, I want ye to stress test each one with the dummy bikes that came in last night,” he says, and the men nod. “I trust where they come from, but they still need to be tested—let’s make sure they were installed properly. After ye do that, the shelvin’ should be finished, and ye can start stockin’ each station with the tools laid out in the back. Everythin’ is labeled, so make sure they feckin’ stay that way.”

When he spots me and Theo, he gives us a nod of acknowledgment and glances at his watch before calling over the noise, “All right, lads. Union lunchtime! Ye’ve got an hour.”

“Hey, man,” I greet him, holding my hand out for him to shake, which he accepts.

“Ah, chief, how’s it goin’?” Charlie is in his usual look: torn blue jeans, and I’m unsure if he’s being modern or wears his jeans until they fall apart—I’m guessing the latter. His armless shirt reveals a sleeve of a naked pin-up-girl with huge tits, blowing a kiss from his upper arm with one eye squeezed shut into a wink. Below that is a big heart with three letters: MOM. Either Charlie has a twisted sense of humor, or he found himself under the ink gun sometime late at night after a heavy night of partying.

“Lost myself a bit of a bet there.” He answers my silent question, likely used to getting odd looks. “Are ya happy enough with things?” He lifts his hand, gesturing around him.

There’s the state-of-the-art showroom where we can display the classics and more expensive bikes, our workshop space (“the garage”) where customers can get their bikes fixed, customized, and detailed, plus a couple of modern office spaces in the back for Theo, sales staff, and other administration employees.

“Things are looking great,” I say, pleased with how organized Charlie is and how systematically he handles his crew. There is not a single array of clutter anywhere, or the mess I usually face during construction periods with sharp deadlines, and I’m pleased. “I didn’t expect to have all the rigging in today.”

“Yeah, fella called me this mornin’ at 5:30, sayin’ they had a cancellation and could move us up the list. Met him first thing, and we got everythin’ unloaded before the lads got here. What d’ye think?”

I scan the workspace with a grin. “It looks like an actual garage.”

“Feckin’ imagine that.”

Chuckling, I slap him on the back. “Thanks for looking out.” Knowing that we have an opening date and are going to make it takes a massive load off. “Have you run into any issues with distributors?”

“Don’t be worryin’ about that. It’s grand. Sure, you won’t get anyone any better round these parts,” Charlie boasts, pointing a thumb at himself and grinning. “I went through all your notes, and we’re good. That last fella was feckin’ useless. Wouldn’t know his arse from his elbow, just runnin’ up the bill with all sorts of shite. There’s plenty left in the budget for us to finish things up properly.”

In the construction field, it’s normal that contractors pick each other to pieces. Everybody wants the job. Not everything you hear is true. I don’t hold it against Charlie that he’s running down a peer. At least we’re within budget.

“Good job,” I tell him.

“You’re grand.” Charlie jerks his head to the back. “The admin offices are all done. The furniture is due in tomorrow, so long as ya approve. Will we give it a look?”

“Sounds good. Let’s check them out.”

We follow Charlie toward the back of “the garage” where the administration offices have been finished. The space is well lit with natural light coming from large windows and modern lighting fixtures. This is better than I could’ve hoped for. We’ve already hired the administration staff, and with their offices complete, it means they can start at least two weeks earlier than expected. It’ll be good to have a central space where business operations can begin while the rest of the building is being finished.

After the brief tour, Charlie heads off to take his break. “Go on so. I’ll talk to ya later.”

Theo and I crouch down on the floor of the room that’ll soon be his office.

“So, I have a question,” Theo says, leaning back on his hands and taking my attention away from my thoughts. “About this girl. What do you know about Josie’s friend?”

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