The Landlord

Chapter 5

Nope, didn't like this at all. "You said you needed me to help you renovate and redecorate."

"That's right. So let's get started," he said, getting in his truck before I could continue.

Son of a bitch... this was not what I had in mind.

He drove us down to the first house on the road. It was a vacant home. At least the grass was cut, but you could tell it was vacant. There was no outside decor, no cars in the driveway beside Blake's truck, and nothing in the windows. We got to work right away. And it was hell.

First, he grabbed his tools and headed up to the porch. We needed to remove the rotted boards first – which was a huge ass fucking bitch once we started. Like, holy god, he didn't hold back on laying on the labor.

He gave me this electric thing and something that could pry the boards up (fucking sue me for now knowing the name of this shit). Anyway, we each did it. I wasn't a pansy, and didn't complain how sore my muscles already were (well, didn't complain excessively anyway). But I'm sure he could see it with each drop of sweat that ruined my make-up.

Not one stupid hour down, and I looked and felt like shit.

He needed to help me pry and remove the rotted boards a couple times.... Okay, more like, each board. Sorry I couldn't fucking carry each one. He grabbed the end while I grabbed the other and hauled it off the porch. "Such bullshit...." I mumbled under my breath before we tossed it in the back of his truck.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing at all," I said, trying to control my breath as I brushed off my dusty hands.

"Good. Because I sure don't think I could do this without you." If he wasn't such a nice laid-back guy, and if he didn't say that teasingly, I would have fucked him up. Then again, there was still time. I checked my phone as we walked back to the porch.

"God, it's only 7:45." I looked down the road towards the bay. Drowning sounded better and better each second....

"You're really not used to this kind of work, are you?"

Jesus. Did I fucking look like natural laborer? I scoffed. "No! None of this. My last job, before I moved here, was in a fashion outlet. You know, a civilized job." He didn't know how close I was to just quitting. It occured to be several times already.

We walked back to the porch. "A cushy comfy city job," he nodded, returning to prying a board. "Sounds about right. Well, I appreciate you leaving your comfort zone. I really do."

See, that shit was exactly why I didn't know how to feel about the guy. He would insult me subtly, but it would be in a joking manner. He would make assumptions about me, but was nice about it at the same time.

He was sweet, teasing, relaxed – and yes, willing to put up with me. At the same time, he also didn't have an issue teasing me. Which was light-hearted, but he clearly judged me as a city girl at the same time. Fuck... I just wish he was more of an asshole. I truly did. It would make him less attractive, less interesting, and I would feel more comfortable being a bitch to him.

After we removed all the bad boards, we replaced them. He didn't give me an easy job this time either. Nope, handed me a hammer and nails and almost expected me to know what to do.

"Alright, you gotta give me some slack man." I said, looking up from where I was kneeling on the porch. How the hell...? "You line up the nail with the beam under...?"

On his hands and knees, he looked up. His face was sweaty too, but he didn't seem to mind. God, I could only imagine how I looked. Gross, sweaty... ugh. "Didn't you see me do it?"