Josh let out a low whistle as he stood inside the door, looking around him. “Sweet baby Jesus, will you look at this place?”
“Can we do it with the fuckin’ door closed?” Mark dumped one bag on the large kitchen island before going over to the counter by the refrigerator.
Josh dropped his gear as he flipped him the bird, but pulled the door shut. Still gawking like a hick in the big city for the first time, he brought the bag he carried to the counter, setting it down. “You’ve got a shitload of supplies here, man. We’re talking more than a master bathroom, aren’t we?” He walked among the boxes, reading labels, flipping back the tops of those that were already open. Leaning against the counter in front of the sink, Mark opened a beer.
“Yeah. Most of the upstairs. And the kitchen.” Mark indicated the cabinets with the beer he held. He pulled out his cigarettes, tapping one loose.
“I’m not gonna knock ya’, man, because I don’t know you, but there is no way you’re gonna get all this done by the end of April.” Josh still prowled around the boxes and supplies.
“You work out in the master bath, I’ll keep you on for the rest of the job. I’ll split the fee, forty-sixty with you.” Mark lit up and inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs.
Josh looked at him from across the room, standing in front of the massive fireplace. “Forty-sixty?”
Mark didn’t reply as he watched Josh pull off his coat and toss it on the back of the couch. Looking at him, Mark wouldn’t figure him for a former Marine, but rather Army like he’d been once. But then, he had to remind himself, not all Marines were squared-offed no necks good for little more than brawls and breaking in doors.
“Sounds like a fair enough deal.”
“That’s if you work out on the master bath. You said you could do some carpentry?” Mark tapped the ashes off his cigarette into the sink behind him, without turning around.
“Cabinetmaker.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” Josh pointed to the boxes at the far end of the kitchen, stacked three high and two deep. “You’re gonna need help hanging all those cabinets.”
“Master bath first, cupcake, then we’ll talk about the rest of the place.” Mark finished the beer, then tossed the bottle into the garbage can. “You got your choice of the four guest rooms to bunk in. They all got TVs. There’s wireless internet if you’re into that.”
“Seriously? Well, hot damn, I won’t have to go without my internet porn fix, now will I?” Josh flashed him a smile as he circled around the supplies again. Mark started to reply as Josh stopped, staring at one of the bigger boxes.
“Well, dip me in shit and roll me in corn flakes.” He stroked his hand reverently over the top of the box. Mark came around to see what had Josh in raptures. It was the impressive new flat screen TV that was to be mounted over the fireplace. Josh looked up at him, eyes huge. “How could you not have installed this bad boy yet? Holy shit, man.”
“It’s a fucking TV, jarhead.”
“A fucking TV? Are you insane? Plasma, high-definition and fifty-five inches of pure orgasm, that’s what this is!” Josh continued to stroke the box like it was alive.
“Oh, for Chrissakes, give me a break.” Mark crushed out his cigarette before stomping back to the refrigerator. He pulled out a couple more beers. Shaking his head, he started up the stairs. “I’ll give you two some privacy. Tomorrow you can start on that master bath.”
Chapter 2
Lighting up a cigarette, Mark leaned back against the countertop, staring out over the dunes to the steel-gray ocean. The wind was tearing it up, the waves at least eight to ten feet high as the surf crashed on shore. It had been raw outside when he took his pre-dawn run, the bitter cold snatching his breath away. Studying the slate colored skies, Mark figured it would turn to sleet later on.
The coffee was almost ready, so Mark fished the biggest mug out of the cabinet. It was black with a yellow smiley face, which he couldn’t care less about. That it held a fucking lot of coffee in one pour, now that he could get behind. He started to reach for the pot when Josh made his entrance.
Mark stared as the younger man came down the stairs, scrubbing his face before running both hands through his long hair. He yawned, walking across the great room, wearing nothing but a pair of dog tags and white socks, his personality bobbing between his legs with each step he took.
Well, sweet fucking Christ, the guy was a helluva sight. Yesterday, the oversized tie-dyed t-shirt and baggy carpenter’s jeans along with the bulky flannel jacket had done a fine job of hiding most of Josh’s rather spectacular attributes. He was tall and long-limbed, but, Mark couldn’t help but notice how ripped he was. Well-defined arms, flat stomach, not a body builder but what Mark called “working man” shape, a body earned with sweat.
And damn, Mark had to admit, the guy was hung, out there for anyone to see.
Josh tripped over the ottoman, swearing as he regained his balance. Mark narrowed his eyes, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Josh walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. That put him right beside Mark with no regard for personal space.
“Fuck yeah, I love a Starbucks that’s open early.” Josh filled the mug that Mark had set out on the counter before going over to the refrigerator. He disappeared behind the door for a long moment. “Awesome, I was worried there for a minute that all you had in here was beer.” Josh emerged with a small carton of milk, letting the door swing shut behind him. He topped off his mug, leaving the carton on the counter. He sipped gingerly before letting out a satisfied sigh.
“Forget something, did ya’?” Mark tapped the ashes off his cigarette in the sink. He let his gaze travel the length of the naked man standing beside him.
Taking another sip, Josh pushed the mop of hair out of his face. “Nah, I don’t need glasses to get a cup of coffee.” With a sleepy grin, he went back the way he came, presenting Mark with an unobstructed view of a rather fine ass. There appeared to be a tattoo on the left butt cheek, but Mark couldn’t make out what it was and he’d be damned if he’d ask. This time Josh maneuvered around the ottoman without mishap.
“I’ll start the plumbing work on the master bath in a bit.” Josh started up the stairs, mug secure between both hands.
“Hopefully with some fuckin’ clothes on, damn jarhead,” Mark muttered, yanking the cupboard open to find another mug.
“I heard that, dogface!” Josh tossed over his shoulder before he disappeared upstairs.
* * * *
Leaving the master bathroom to Josh, Mark worked in one of the guest bedrooms that needed to be painted and hardwood floors installed. That meant furniture had to be moved out, then carpet and padding ripped up. Outside, as he’d predicted, it had started to sleet. He could hear it ticking against the windows.
He spent the better part of an hour muscling furniture into the guestroom across the hall. Once in a while, he heard music, Josh singing along to it. Sounded like mostly sixties’ stuff, music Mark remembered from a lifetime ago when he’d humped through the jungles of Vietnam. He didn’t dwell on it, but shut the door, blocking the sound as he began ripping out the carpet.
It was nasty, sweaty work. Mark lost track of time as he pulled up the carpeting, then rolled it into sections to haul down to the dumpster under the house. Hardwood floors would’ve been a waste of money while the place was rented out