Well Built
Page 17
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More questions swirled in her gaze, intimate and personal, but before she could voice any of them, their server arrived with their pizza. She placed it on a rack in the middle of the table and set a large plate in front of each of them.
“Would either of you care for another drink?” the young woman asked.
Ella shook her head, obviously keeping a clear head for the drive home. “I’m good with just this one glass.”
“I’m fine, too,” Kyle said.
The waitress moved on to another table, and Kyle went ahead and served them both a slice of the fragrant pizza, loaded with the simple and classic ingredients they liked—pepperoni, mushrooms, and extra mozzarella.
He took a big bite of his and wiped his napkin across his mouth. “So, turnabout in our conversation and all that, since I just gave up my romantic history, or lack thereof, is this where I now get to ask about you and Tucker?”
She blanched at the mention of the other man’s name and set her half-eaten slice back on her plate. “I’d rather you didn’t ask. I’m actually having a really nice evening, and I don’t want to think about Tucker right now.”
Alrighty then. So much for finding out what had happened between the two of them and why they’d never made it to the altar. “Fair enough,” he said, respecting her wishes.
She finished her Moscato and resumed eating her dinner. “What I’d rather know is how you become a residential and commercial redeveloper. I thought you’d planned on majoring in agricultural business management.”
Yes, that had been his original intention, back when the two of them had talked about returning to Woodmont after college. The areas around the small town would have given him the opportunity to find a decent-paying job in the agricultural market, dealing with commodity, food marketing, and environmental conservation. But when he’d realized that there wasn’t anything to go back to Woodmont for, and certainly not to live there again, he’d revised his plans and gone for a degree in civil engineering.
“When I started at the construction company while going to college, I had zero experience in building anything,” he said as he finished with his second piece of pizza and reached for a third. “I basically started out as the gopher and a grunt, taking on all the shit jobs nobody else wanted to do.”
He gave her a wry small. “I had to start somewhere, but I worked hard, I never complained, and I learned every aspect of construction that I could during those four years while I was in school. I was also fortunate enough that the owner took a liking to me and moved me up to an apprentice pretty quickly, then full-time laborer. Two years ago, he offered me a position as a supervisor with a great salary and full benefits that would lead to being a project manager, but that was right around the time that three of my friends were talking about starting up their own business, and they wanted me to come in as the fourth partner.”
“Premier Realty?” she guessed, putting her crumpled napkin on her empty plate and pushing the dish aside.
“Yes. There’s a luxury real estate side to the company that Wes and Max manage as brokers, and a redevelopment side to the business, which I and my good friend, Connor—the guy you sort of met in my office today—oversee,” he explained. “Wes and Max usually come across the run-down houses and buildings as soon as they go on the market. Connor and I assess them to make sure that the resale value after the renovations and improvements are completed is worth the time and effort.”
She nodded in understanding. “Are you happy?” she asked, her voice soft.
Jesus, that was such a loaded question. On one hand, he was satisfied with his career. Financially, the company was thriving and he’d made a ton of money he’d invested in different ways. Mentally, he enjoyed the challenges that came with rehabbing old structures. On the other hand, there were days—actually, mostly at night when he was in bed trying to fall asleep—when he keenly felt that something fundamental was missing from his life. A certain someone to come home to and share all the successes with.
But overall, he had a fulfilling job, loyal friends, and a great life. It was hard to complain about any of that.
“Yes, I’m happy. I love what I do,” he told her. “Every day is different, and there’s something very satisfying and rewarding about taking a structure that is old and run-down and making it into a showpiece. How about you? Are you happy?”
“Most of the time,” she replied honestly.
She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she suddenly seemed . . . tired. Not tired as in she needed sleep, but mentally fatigued.
“Some days are monotonous, and sometimes I wake up in the morning feeling like I’m living the Groundhog Day movie, where my life feels like it’s caught in a time loop. Buying the building and opening that section for artisans would have made my job a bit more fun and enjoyable because it’s something that I’ve always wanted.”
He hated that he’d taken that away from her. “I’m sorry.”
She tipped her head to the side, her smile reaching her eyes. “You know, I really want to be mad at you for buying the building, but I can’t. Not anymore. Not when your reasons for purchasing it couldn’t be any more selfless.”
He shifted uncomfortably at her comment. “I don’t know about selfless.” Finished with his dinner and beer, he sat back in the booth. “Honestly, my mom is the selfless one and always has been. Not me.”
“She’s very lucky to have a son like you,” she said one last time, and before he could say anything else, she went on. “Speaking of which . . . how’s Todd doing? Last anyone heard, he’d moved to Colorado.”
“He’s still there,” Kyle said, then told her about Todd’s DUI accident that had killed another man in a head-on collision. Todd had survived the wreck but was now serving time in prison in Denver on a manslaughter charge.
The waitress came around again, and since Kyle wasn’t ready to part ways with Ella, he ordered a cannoli for the two of them to share. As they ate the dessert, they talked about her sister, too, and how Gwen came and went depending on whether she needed money or a place to stay. A few months back, she’d gotten involved with a guy who’d ridden through town on a motorcycle, and after spending the weekend with him, she’d announced that she wanted a more exciting life than Woodmont had to offer, then hopped onto the back of the stranger’s bike with a backpack of belongings, and Ella hadn’t heard from her since.
“Would either of you care for another drink?” the young woman asked.
Ella shook her head, obviously keeping a clear head for the drive home. “I’m good with just this one glass.”
“I’m fine, too,” Kyle said.
The waitress moved on to another table, and Kyle went ahead and served them both a slice of the fragrant pizza, loaded with the simple and classic ingredients they liked—pepperoni, mushrooms, and extra mozzarella.
He took a big bite of his and wiped his napkin across his mouth. “So, turnabout in our conversation and all that, since I just gave up my romantic history, or lack thereof, is this where I now get to ask about you and Tucker?”
She blanched at the mention of the other man’s name and set her half-eaten slice back on her plate. “I’d rather you didn’t ask. I’m actually having a really nice evening, and I don’t want to think about Tucker right now.”
Alrighty then. So much for finding out what had happened between the two of them and why they’d never made it to the altar. “Fair enough,” he said, respecting her wishes.
She finished her Moscato and resumed eating her dinner. “What I’d rather know is how you become a residential and commercial redeveloper. I thought you’d planned on majoring in agricultural business management.”
Yes, that had been his original intention, back when the two of them had talked about returning to Woodmont after college. The areas around the small town would have given him the opportunity to find a decent-paying job in the agricultural market, dealing with commodity, food marketing, and environmental conservation. But when he’d realized that there wasn’t anything to go back to Woodmont for, and certainly not to live there again, he’d revised his plans and gone for a degree in civil engineering.
“When I started at the construction company while going to college, I had zero experience in building anything,” he said as he finished with his second piece of pizza and reached for a third. “I basically started out as the gopher and a grunt, taking on all the shit jobs nobody else wanted to do.”
He gave her a wry small. “I had to start somewhere, but I worked hard, I never complained, and I learned every aspect of construction that I could during those four years while I was in school. I was also fortunate enough that the owner took a liking to me and moved me up to an apprentice pretty quickly, then full-time laborer. Two years ago, he offered me a position as a supervisor with a great salary and full benefits that would lead to being a project manager, but that was right around the time that three of my friends were talking about starting up their own business, and they wanted me to come in as the fourth partner.”
“Premier Realty?” she guessed, putting her crumpled napkin on her empty plate and pushing the dish aside.
“Yes. There’s a luxury real estate side to the company that Wes and Max manage as brokers, and a redevelopment side to the business, which I and my good friend, Connor—the guy you sort of met in my office today—oversee,” he explained. “Wes and Max usually come across the run-down houses and buildings as soon as they go on the market. Connor and I assess them to make sure that the resale value after the renovations and improvements are completed is worth the time and effort.”
She nodded in understanding. “Are you happy?” she asked, her voice soft.
Jesus, that was such a loaded question. On one hand, he was satisfied with his career. Financially, the company was thriving and he’d made a ton of money he’d invested in different ways. Mentally, he enjoyed the challenges that came with rehabbing old structures. On the other hand, there were days—actually, mostly at night when he was in bed trying to fall asleep—when he keenly felt that something fundamental was missing from his life. A certain someone to come home to and share all the successes with.
But overall, he had a fulfilling job, loyal friends, and a great life. It was hard to complain about any of that.
“Yes, I’m happy. I love what I do,” he told her. “Every day is different, and there’s something very satisfying and rewarding about taking a structure that is old and run-down and making it into a showpiece. How about you? Are you happy?”
“Most of the time,” she replied honestly.
She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she suddenly seemed . . . tired. Not tired as in she needed sleep, but mentally fatigued.
“Some days are monotonous, and sometimes I wake up in the morning feeling like I’m living the Groundhog Day movie, where my life feels like it’s caught in a time loop. Buying the building and opening that section for artisans would have made my job a bit more fun and enjoyable because it’s something that I’ve always wanted.”
He hated that he’d taken that away from her. “I’m sorry.”
She tipped her head to the side, her smile reaching her eyes. “You know, I really want to be mad at you for buying the building, but I can’t. Not anymore. Not when your reasons for purchasing it couldn’t be any more selfless.”
He shifted uncomfortably at her comment. “I don’t know about selfless.” Finished with his dinner and beer, he sat back in the booth. “Honestly, my mom is the selfless one and always has been. Not me.”
“She’s very lucky to have a son like you,” she said one last time, and before he could say anything else, she went on. “Speaking of which . . . how’s Todd doing? Last anyone heard, he’d moved to Colorado.”
“He’s still there,” Kyle said, then told her about Todd’s DUI accident that had killed another man in a head-on collision. Todd had survived the wreck but was now serving time in prison in Denver on a manslaughter charge.
The waitress came around again, and since Kyle wasn’t ready to part ways with Ella, he ordered a cannoli for the two of them to share. As they ate the dessert, they talked about her sister, too, and how Gwen came and went depending on whether she needed money or a place to stay. A few months back, she’d gotten involved with a guy who’d ridden through town on a motorcycle, and after spending the weekend with him, she’d announced that she wanted a more exciting life than Woodmont had to offer, then hopped onto the back of the stranger’s bike with a backpack of belongings, and Ella hadn’t heard from her since.
