Chapter 2

Jonathan

I'm following Alex in her little sports car, and envying her for the wind in her hair. Amongst this old Escort's many problems, it doesn't have air conditioning, so the east Texas heat is pretty sweltering inside the car, even with all the windows down. Within a few minutes, we're back in the residential area I'd passed through an hour ago.

Alex is going much slower, which I'm thankful for. I know my controlling tendencies would have me twitching and frustrated if she were driving dangerously with me following her. Soon enough, we've passed through the million-dollar vacation homes and are back in the woods. Then suddenly, our two-car convoy is bursting into a huge meadow of white and yellow wildflowers and green grasses.

The road curves immediately back into the trees, but Alex turns her little convertible off into the meadow on a tiny dirt road leading towards an old two-story house—a very large house. But even from this distance, I can see why Alex needs a carpenter. She probably needs an electrician and a plumber too.

"You can read architectural plans?" Alex asked, her eyes on the plans, my eyes on her unfettered tits hidden only by the sweaty t-shirt.

Calm down boy! She's only a kid, and besides ... she doesn't look like a 'casual sex' kind of girl.

I nod, "Most of those Habitat jobs, there's just one carpenter overseeing a whole bunch of inexperienced folks. And after a few days, you learn enough to just figure things out for yourself. It's a whole lot faster than going to the guy in charge every few hours for some new task."

Alex nods thoughtfully, chewing her lip in the most attractive way. Finally, glancing back at the plans, "Well, this is what it should look like when it's finished ... lemme show you what it looks like now."

She rolled up the plans and slipped them back in the cardboard tube. Alex then led me into the house. It really did need a lot of work. The hardwood floors were scratched and abused from years of neglect. They needed to be sanded, stained, and polished. At one point, the house had previously been remodeled in the '50s, because all the interior walls were done in the lath and plaster fashion before sheetrock had come into common use.

Alex wanted none of those walls left intact, and wanted to replace everything with modern sheetrock and modern insulation. Since she was already changing much of the floor plan anyway, it only made sense to bring everything up to code anyway. That was the first thing she needed done, and it wasn't really a job you needed a carpenter for, just stripping the walls so her electrician could get in there, and from there, everything was simple.

Upstairs—well there were no stairs, so up-ladder—she wasn't changing the layout of the walls nearly as much. But the bathrooms were being completely redone. Luckily, the plumbing was perfectly fine. But she wanted all new fixtures and tiles.

"This is where you can sleep. It's not much..." Alex trailed off.

I looked down at the dusty single mattress and sleeping bag, "Nah. It's fine. I've slept in worse places." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. I ran away from home once when I was nine and slept in the woods behind our house—in a $300 sleeping bag.

Alexis

I can't believe I just left a stranger in my house. That's the thought that keeps running through my head. That thought, and what a day! God! He's so handsome. His dark hair and dark eyes. Dark and mysterious. He didn't give anything away.

He doesn't like Aerosmith. How odd is that? Everyone likes Aerosmith.

I take another sip of my beer. The TV news is on, and I'm trying to pay attention to the story Cat's telling me about her day.

" ... so they're planning a vigil for this coming Sunday. His lawyer doesn't think he's got anything left to appeal. I couldn't find anything left to appeal either," Cat sighs taking a sip of her wine.

Catherine Hughes has been my best friend since we were little kids. She's a law student at UH, and volunteers at the TCADP, the Texas Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty. She's being so typically Cat right now. I'm sitting over here all twisted up in a giant ball of ... I dunno ... nerves? And she's just prattling on about her day.

Catherine Hughes, type-A over-achiever. If we hadn't been friends for our entire lives, I would have been questioning why we were friends in the first place. Where Cat is decisive and wants to be the Governor of Texas who repeals the death penalty, I am the most aimless woman on the planet. Or at least I feel that way.

Sure, I want to go to art school, but I also really love that old house. And I really kind of like my job, at least when Ray isn't around. I guess I don't really know what I want.

Cat knows exactly what she wants, and she has step-by-step goals to get her what she wants. Most of the time, Cat gets what she wants too. It's almost annoying how easy things go for her sometimes. Don't get me wrong, Cat works her ass off for what she wants. But she does actually get what she wants. It can be annoying. About the only aspect of her life that is as messed up as mine is, is her personal life. She goes through guys like they grow on trees.

The problem with Cat and guys is she doesn't want a guy she can push around. She wants someone who is even more type-A than she is. So the guys she dates tend to be either total pricks or they think they're god's gift. On the other hand, maybe her personal life is in better shape than mine. At least she has a personal life.

I've dated a bit. But most guys don't find oil-stained hands and dirty hair attractive. Once every few months Cat manages to wrangle me into a blind date with the brother or friend of her current beau, but other than that, I really don't bother.

"Lexi!"

"Huh? What?" Damn, I totally wasn't paying attention.

"Where's your head tonight?" Cat asked.

I shrugged, "I dunno."

I took another swig of beer while Cat just stared at me. I finally relented, hoping my nervousness didn't show, "I found a carpenter for the house today."

"You did? Who?"

"Uh, you don't know him. His name is JJ."

"Where'd you meet him, the shop?"

I shrugged, "Not exactly. I was driving out to the house and he was having car trouble."

"And you stopped to help him?"

I snorted, "I almost hit him."

"You really need to slow the fuck down."

I grinned, "I know."

"What was wrong with his car?"

"Flat tire. I gotta go out there and tow it back to the shop tomorrow."

"You just left him out there!?" Cat exclaimed.

"No," I shook my head. "He was out of work, had just bought a used car in Dallas, and was on his way to New Orleans. With all the rebuilding going on down there, he figured there would be plenty of work."

"And? What aren't you telling me?" Cat teased.

I sighed, "I dunno. There's just something off about him. He's not really a carpenter either. He didn't say what he did for a living, but he worked a bunch of summers for Habitat for Humanity when he was a kid, and he seemed to know what I wanted. He could read the plans, and despite not knowing how to change a flat tire, he seemed quite capable."

Cat rolled her eyes, "And?"

I grunted, and mumbled, "And he's ... good looking."

"AHA!"

"Cool your jets, Cat. He's married ... I think."

"You think?" she asked skeptically.

I sighed, frustrated with her questioning, "He had a white line on his finger."

"That just means he was married. It doesn't mean he is married!"

I was silent.

Cat smirked, "So, you just happened to run across a hot carpenter who isn't really a carpenter with car trouble?"

My silence continued and I tried to focus on the news. For a few moments, Cat let me be while I focused on the current situation in Syria. It sure looked like things were boiling to a dangerous level in the Middle East. First Egypt, now Syria. With Iran supporting the current regime, it meant the US really couldn't afford to get involved. Especially since Russia had ties with both Iran and Syria. The whole thing was just a mess. Of course, the US was involved somewhat because of all the people fleeing into Iraq. The situation was scary, especially since Cat's brother was a Marine. He was in Afghanistan right now, and that was scary enough.

Cat finally broke the silence, and considering where my mind was headed, I was kind of glad.

"So he's hot. How hot?"