Jayson: A New Adult / Coming of Age Romance

by Hughes, Nicole

  Just to be funny, I say, “Well, I sometimes have trouble making a steady connection. I lose interest quickly, so it’s hard to keep the spark going.”

  “I don’t know if I can do anything about faulty connections. That’s one of those things where either the chemistry is there or it’s not.” He grins as I slide a hand over my mouth to cover my smile, feeling like a middle school kid talking dirty. I suddenly realize how long it’s been since I flirted with a guy. Once I started college, romance kind of fell off my radar. He stands to his feet and takes a step toward me, staring me down like my harmless banter doesn’t make him uncomfortable. In fact, there’s interest in his golden eyes. I quirk a brow and decide to back down.

  Jayson Zephyr might be sexy, but he’s a laborer. Mom would skin me alive if I brought a guy like him home. “Anything else?” he asks, licking his lips in a slow way that drags my gaze to his mouth. I bite mine and suppress a groan.

  “I think that’s it. And whatever else you see.”

  “You definitely need me, I can tell you that.”

  I clear my throat and glance away, coloring deeply. Living with my mother has made it second nature to suppress my sex drive—bringing a boyfriend home to her critical eye was rarely worth the trouble. This is the first guy to make me vividly aware I’m a woman with needs. I try to diffuse the sparks flying—no faulty connection here—and lead him back into the living room where the built-in kitchen bar provides a surface for whatever contracts have to be signed.

  With Mom’s money on the line, I can’t afford to mess up. Jayson quotes me a reasonable estimate, taking time to explain what each aspect of the renovation will cost. I appreciate it—I know I’ll be learning a lot just going through this process. I text the details to Mom. Within seconds, she okays it (she checked out the company online, too, I happen to know) and I take the time to read through all the fine print before putting down my John Hancock, trying to make better decisions this time. I sign the papers and hold out my slender hand for a handshake to seal things. “Looks like you’re hired!”

  “Excellent. It’ll be my pleasure to work for you, Kitrina.”

  “Kit. Just call me Kit. And, I’m sure the pleasure will be all mine.” I can’t help throwing in another double entendre.

  Again our eyes collide, desire pooling in my center as his fingers close around mine, and the rough callouses rub over my smooth skin. “It’s always better when everybody is satisfied, right?” He winks at me as he takes steps backward toward the door before finally turning and walking out. I stroll to the threshold and see him off, waving goodbye as he pulls away from the curbside.

  “Kit Schneider, you sexpot!” I mutter to myself with a saucy grin. I slam the door and dust off my hands, wicked thoughts lingering in my mind like the scent of his cologne lingering in my house. Too bad he’s not a med student or engineer. Mom would love him then. I sigh and shake my head at the idea. “Time to get…home.” I cringe, wishing things had gone according to plan and I was living here instead of still having to consider Mom’s place my residence. I take one last wistful look around before trudging out of the house and hopping in my car to head to Pacific Heights.

  JAYSON

  “Kitrina Schneider,” I try out the name again. It rolls off my tongue and sounds out of place over the growl of the truck engine and the indie music playing at low volume from my stereo as I drive away from her house. In my head her womanly strut replays on a loop, offering flashbacks of her narrow hips swaying artlessly, long legs making me envision her wrapping them around me. With a chuckle, I shift in the driver’s seat and put that out of my head.

  I can already tell I’ll be more hands-on with this job than usual—considering the amount of work that’ll have to go into the place—but I have to keep my hands off the client. She isn’t the usual for Zephyr Brothers. For starters, I’d been expecting someone much older. I can’t wait to rub in Castiel and Dev’s faces what they missed by skipping out on making the house call with me.

  I whip the black Dodge Ram into a vacant spot at my apartment complex and kill the engine, glad another overlong workday is ended. There are grocery bags in the backseat for Momma, which I lift out and carry with me up the stairs, digging my keys out of my pocket. I open the door to the orderly sight of my living room where a comfy brown suede sofa and two off-white chairs share space with a cypress wood coffee table. Lugging the bags to the stretch of kitchen counter past the living room, I deposit my load and call out for Sabine.

  “Momma?” I drop my voice when I peek into her bedroom and see she’s sleeping in the big king sized adjustable bed I bought her last Christmas.

  “She went to bed early tonight, Mr. Zephyr,” murmurs the home health aide rising from a chair at her bedside. A warm smile comes to my face and a fiercely protective feeling wells up inside me at the sight of Sabine. Her angelic face is peaceful from the rest she's getting, and her wispy brown hair spills across the pillows. I study her—the hawkish nose I inherited from her, the sunken cheeks and angular bone structure. It’s one of those rare nights when she doesn’t seem to be in any pain.

  “She had a good day, Penny?”

  “Pretty good,” she says, following me out of the room. “I give her two Norco this evening when the spasms flared up, but she held off from taking meds for most of the day. Now, the pain pills might give her a little heartburn at some point through the night. Them calcium tabs on the nightstand should work good enough for that, though.”

  I nod, grimacing at the helplessness I feel every time I think of the suffering my mother has to go through on a daily basis. Mom is only in her mid-fifties, but a work-related spine injury on one of her part-time jobs years back left her mostly bedbound. The bastards had convinced her it wasn’t a workman’s comp case since she was part-time. In the end, I had taken her in with arrangements made to ensure she has someone watching her while I’m at work. It isn’t a burden. It’s the least I can do for my mother.

  As I walk the aide to the front door, Penny reminds me Momma has physical therapy in the morning, which I had forgotten completely about. Ashby will have to swing through to take her before heading to the college. “What would I do without you, Pen?”

  “Hire somebody else,” the stodgy middle-aged woman says with a chuckle. I laugh and shake my head, knowing good home help really is hard to come by. I pat her on the back, thanking her. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Zephyr.”

  “You take care, Penny. Bye-bye now.”

  Closing the door, I amble to my sofa and stretch out, finally relaxing from the exhausting day, eyes shutting of their own accord. I try not to fall completely asleep, knowing I need a bath and some supper, but I sigh contently as I relish the feel of the plush cushions beneath me. My thoughts drift back to Kit Schneider, and I realize how much I’m looking forward to getting the work started at her place. I wonder idly why she’s buying a house so young—and unmarried, judging by her ring finger—but it’s none of my business. She has a good eye, though. The house is going to be a beauty. Which reminds me I need to call Castiel and tell him what a bombshell she is. I pull my cellphone out of my back pocket, workday never quite done. I call my youngest brother first to make arrangements for Mom in the morning, then I make the leisure call to Cast to tell him about the new job we’ll be starting in a few days.

  “What you want, ole boy?” my bro answers.

  “Have I got a helluva new client for you…”

  Chapter 6

  JAYSON

  “What’d I tell you?”

  “You didn’t exaggerate!” Castiel hisses to me as Kit walks off, leaving me and my crew by the bed of the truck, unloading our equipment.

  All eyes are on the college coed sashaying back into the house, and I have to blow a whistle with my fingers to get the knuckleheads to pay attention to what they’re doing. As the contractor, I generally drop in on a job site once or twice just to make sure things are flowing the way I have them planned, but I can see already I’ll probably
have to be around more often. Kit’s obviously a walking distraction and if I don’t watch out, the work won’t get done. “Alright, guys, I want you, Dev, to get with Larry and see how much wall we’re gonna have to rip out for the wiring and pipe issues. I already checked into the foundation stuff. It’s normal settling; nothing we have to worry about, so we’re gonna go straight to the interior and work our way out.”

  “Gotcha, bro,” Dev says with a nod.

  “Cast, you come with me so we can do a second walk-through, make sure I didn’t miss anything the first time.”

  “Fellas?” I look up at Kit’s call. She’s hanging out the door holding up a pitcher of what looks like lemonade. “Let me know if you guys get thirsty or need something to eat. I have refreshments for you.”

  “Thanks, Kit, but the guys bring lunch with them. They’re fine.” With a friendly smile, I wave her back inside. Nothing will get started if she doesn’t keep her cute butt out of sight. “Now, where was I?”

  “She does have a way of making a man lose his bearings, don’t she,” Cast teases. I swat at him with the blueprints I pull out of the roll, intent on staying clearheaded.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s where I was. Get to work,” I order, pointing to the back of the truck.

  We spend a good part of the day busting out drywall and inspecting every pipe in the building, tearing out the ancient electrical wiring to replace all of it. I have two carpenter’s helpers, plus a skilled carpenter and a licensed electrician on board, with a plumber to come through at a phone call when I tell him we’re ready to actually fit the pipe. It’s not hard work on the first day; it’s mostly setting up. In fact, the hardest part about the job is keeping Devon, Castiel, Larry and Hollis (and myself) focused on the job instead of Kit.

  Around noon, Kit leaves on an errand, and I give the guys a lunch break. As I’m sitting on the back of the truck chewing on a bite of sandwich, Castiel joins me with a mischievous look in his eyes. “What?” I ask suspiciously.

  “I’m tryna give you a chance to make a move on her, cause if you don’t, I will.”

  Larry laughs out loud, smoking a cigarette a few paces away. Dev, a year younger than Cast, stands at the side of the truck with his booted foot up on the wheel, staring at me and Castiel. “That’s noble of you, bro. I wasn’t thinking of giving either one of you a chance.”

  “You kids are out of your element. Girls like her aren’t easy,” I point out.

  “Oh, I wasn’t just talking about sleeping with her,” Dev replies, although I know that’s exactly what he was talking about. Devon, the family playboy, changes women like most people change shirts.

  “She’s a vulnerable young college student who got herself into a jam, and we’re here to help her, not hit on her,” I murmur, chuckling. She had admitted that the problems with the house came as a surprise. “I have to admit the damsel in distress thing appeals to a guy like me, but I doubt if any of us are her type.”

  “Speak for yourself,” says Larry. “She might like an older feller like me to call daddy.” He grins, ruffling back his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Larry, you old coot, you’re pushing fifty. You don’t have enough Viagra to take her on,” I joke.

  “I wonder how she got stuck with this junk pile,” Dev ponders aloud. I shrug, though I wonder too. Obviously, she’s got her own money, but most rich kids have a mom or dad looking out for their interests. Kit seems like a smart enough girl, but she’s definitely gullible.

  “Eat up, guys. The rest of the workday, I want to clear away the mess we made tearing out the drywall so we leave this place looking as neat as possible. Things like that matter to the client. Just to keep you all filled in on what’s going on with the business, we should be seeing a higher call rate over the next couple of weeks as more people hear about us from the advertising I set in place. So, if you know anybody looking for work, tell ‘em we’re hiring.”

  “Will do,” says Larry.

  I dust the crumbs off my hands, the first finished eating, and I head back into the house to lend a hand with the cleanup. About an hour later, I hear a car pull up in the driveway and peek out the window to see Kit coming back. “Best behavior, fellas. She’s here.”

  Into the house walks Kit with an older woman who’s clearly related to her. The family resemblance is strong. “Mr. Zephyr, this is my mom. She’s the one who suggested I flip the house, and she just wanted you to give her an idea of what all has to be done. I know you told me, but I thought you could explain it better than I could.”

  “Of course, no problem. Mrs. Schneider, you don’t look nearly old enough to be anybody’s mom,” I tease her, flashing a friendly smile. I stick out my hand for a handshake, but she ignores it. Instead of smiling back and accepting the compliment, she gives me a haughty look. I try not to let my offense show on my face. People from a certain socioeconomic background often look at guys like me as nothing more than the hired help. Nodding apologetically, I launch into a description of the work ahead of us.

  Though she’s aloof, Mrs. Schneider deigns to give me suggestions on how she’d like things to look upon completion, which is actually helpful. Knowing what a client wants ahead of time saves me the trouble of having to do double work if they don’t like the renovations. Only thing is, I thought this was Kit’s house. I surreptitiously sneak a glance at Kit, who stands demurely behind her mother, letting Mommy Dearest run the show.

  I hesitantly check with Kit to make sure she’s on board with the ideas her mom’s throwing out at me. “Just to be sure, Kit, you want to change the lapis lazuli tile in the bathroom and upgrade it to something a little more modern?”

  “Um, whatever she says…”

  “Alrighty,” I say, clamping my mouth shut at the glare I get from Mrs. Schneider. I now see who’s really in charge.

  “Kit, let’s leave these gentlemen to finish their work now. I can’t believe you stuck around all morning through all this banging and hammering. You don’t have to do that in the future. In fact, I prefer you don’t,” Mrs. Schneider announces. “Mr. Zephyr, I’ll be checking in periodically to make sure we progress as planned, but I trust you have everything in control. Kitrina, let’s go, dear.”

  Mrs. Schneider breezily exits the house, but Kit lingers. Our eyes connect, and she looks like she wants to say something about what just happened. I save her the trouble, trying to let her know I’m on her side. “You know, if there’s anything you want done differently, just say the word,” I say gently. “Your mom seems a little pushy, but you can speak up for yourself. She won’t always be around to help you in life. Gotta learn how to stand on your own two feet.”

  Kit’s eyebrows draw together in a frown, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I already lost my dad, but thanks for pointing out that I’ll lose my mom someday, too.”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—“

  “It’s whatever. I gotta go.”

  Castiel and I share a look as she leaves, slamming the door shut behind her. “I think you just blew your shot, bro.”

  KITRINA

  Brazen, arrogant bastard! It doesn’t matter that I agree my mom is pushy. It certainly isn’t his place to tell me, especially not with my mom possibly within earshot. And I hate the fact that he saw me knuckling under—put in my place. I feel about twelve. I race out of the house, relieved to see she’s already made it to the car. As I hop into the driver’s seat of my Fiat, I ferry her back to work. I can tell she isn’t in a good mood after having to modify her schedule for the house she hates.

  I also didn’t miss her not-so-subtle reminder that a construction site full of sweaty men is no place for a college girl to be hanging out. I just wanted to be there the first day to make sure things would run smoothly. Having seen that, I resolve not to go back unless absolutely necessary.

  But over the next two weeks, I find myself dropping by the house on a regular basis. No matter how many times I tell myself I’m not going just to get a glimps
e of Jayson, my daydreams call me a liar. He’s all I can think about. The fact that he’s working on my house, the first thing I can really call my own—makes it even hotter.

  “It’s maddening, Grace,” I pout. “Sometimes he’s there, but most times he’s not, and even when he is there he completely ignores me.”

  “I got the impression you blew him off when he tried to talk to you,” she points out, flipping through the campus paper. I smirk her way.

  “Only about that one specific thing. I told you, before that we were actually kind of flirting,” I admit.

  Grace and I are sprawled out on her bed in her dorm room, watching television and shooting the breeze between classes. It’s November, and I’ve been juggling work, school and fighting my attraction to the elusive Jayson Zephyr.

  “That’s why I think you need to let him know you’re into him, Kit. Ever since you met the guy, he’s all you’ve been able to talk about,” Grace states.

  I giggle because she’s right. “But—.”

  “No buts, baby cakes. Grab life by the horns! Let’s go today. I want to meet him.”

  “Wha-? No! Grace, we can’t do that.”

  “Why not? We don’t have to work this evening, but your mom doesn’t have to know that. You can tell her you got called in to work. That’ll give us a few hours to hang out and have some girl time. We need this.”

  I mull the suggestion over. “He probably won’t be there anyway,” I reply. However, the idea of getting to go somewhere and spend time with my bestie seems too promising to pass up. “Alright, let me call my mom.”

  I get through the remaining two classes of the day feeling conflicted about how much I really want to lay eyes on the sexy carpenter and how much I really don’t need to give in to that craving. As Grace and I arrive at the house, all I see is a couple of the guys taking a smoke break, lounging around the outside of the house. I look around for his truck and breathe a huge sigh of relief when I see only the company truck instead of his personal vehicle. “Told you he probably wouldn’t be here.”