Sweet and Salty (Marshall My Heart #1)

14. Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J esse

In this twisted world of St. Olaf, where people actually keep their word, Rory shows up on time that Sunday afternoon. I sit on my porch, nursing a bottle of soda since I stopped drinking after moving to St. Olaf. Technically, I stopped drinking about a month later once I realized that I needed my reaction time to be faster than dear-god-it’s-already-two-in-the-afternoon-and-my muscles-feel-like week-old-Jell-O. Being over forty sucks.

Rory’s truck rolls down the dirt driveway and parks next to the beater I bought once I figured out there’s nothing passing for public transportation out here. Per Opal Larson, who I’ve now gotten to know, the town’s one ride share driver has apparently gone the way of Moe, permanently out fishing.

“Hey, man,” Rory says, stepping from his truck. He looks different and yet somehow still sheriff in plainclothes, with a loose flannel button-down hanging over a black T-shirt and jeans. He pulls a work belt from the back seat of his truck. “I’ve got a babysitter for two hours. This is gold.”

“I don’t want you to waste your babysitting time on me. You’ve probably got better things to do.”

Rory rolls his eyes skyward. “Don’t make it so hard to help you, Jesse. You’re worse than my sister.”

“Laura?” I try to sound casual and fail miserably. No, not just miserably. Crashed-and-burned-after-rolling-my-car-into-a-wayward-oil-tanker level of failure.

“No, Frannie. Laura too, don’t get me wrong. There’s a reason she’s the mama bear, but Frannie’s always been headstrong and too independent.”

That statement reeks of fraternal disapproval, something I only know of by hearsay. “Let me get my tools.”

We work steadily for the next two hours, fixing the lopsided steps. Rory tolerates my poor carpentry skills with the patience of a single parent, but it’s pleasant work overall. Hammering and sawing and working with my hands so that it looks better than it did before. Not perfect. The old Jesse would have inwardly fumed about that, but New Jesse can handle it well enough. At least for now.

“I’ve been trying to fix those steps for a week already.” I hand Rory a glass of water. No ice, since the freezer broke the night before.

Rory shakes his head. “You really should consider moving in with my sister until this place is up to code.”

The thought of living that close to her does things to my body no brother should see. “I’m tougher than I look. Is there any way I can repay you?”

Rory sniffs and stares at my T-shirt and jeans, now covered in sawdust and dirt. “Get changed and come to my family’s dinner tonight. I know you’re going to protest, but—”

“You don’t have the time,” I finish. Rory grins broadly and claps me on the shoulder.

It’s okay. I’m tentatively excited, and starving after this afternoon of work. Harbor Stryke told me to make myself comfortable, meet the locals, and whatnot. My grandma always taught me not to leave a debt unpaid. So I’ll do this one dinner, strain my interpersonal resources, and then maybe these kind, good-hearted people will leave me alone to fuck up my life in peace.