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Not to mention the Griffen Farms hat that was on his head made him look younger, more relaxed. I much preferred this look on him to the khakis and polo from earlier.
“Hey,” he said with a smile that outshone the California sun.
I made myself busy tucking my keys in my purse to hide my own smile. “How was the first day on the site?”
“It was great,” he said. “We always start off a little slow to get the guys used to working with a new crew. I always bring in plenty of pizza for a long lunch and have a beer at the end of the day—in the parking lot, of course.”
“Clever.” If I was being honest, I completely appreciated the taste of a beer at the end of a long day's work. My dad and brothers had made sure of it. “You'd win me over pretty fast with beer and pizza,” I admitted.
“Well, I don't have any plans for supper, and I can always go for a second beer,” he said.
“Nice use of supper. You’re catching on,” I teased, but then my mind immediately went to what Janessa had said about dating Tyler being off limits. I needed to be more professional. Not that I had to worry. I remembered the way he looked at me earlier. A romantic relationship was never in a million years going to happen between us. This was work and friendship only.
I was so lost in my thoughts I missed his reply, so I said, “Supper sounds good, but we don't have to do pizza and beer again. If you don't want to.”
“Dealer's choice,” he replied with a grin. “But I should probably get showered first. Do you want to wait in my apartment?”
“Oh,” I said, “no. I can just wait in my car.”
He looked around. “It's nearly ninety degrees outside. The air conditioning in my unit is pretty nice. And it doesn't cost you your gas.”
At this point, arguing would just make me seem rude, especially since he knew my car AC was on the fritz from the night before. So I followed him up the steps to his apartment. It looked almost the same as it had a couple days ago. But I noticed there were several books and magazines spread out on his coffee table.
“Are you a reader?” I asked, slightly impressed. My mom had to pay my brothers to get their reading done in high school. Literally. Each book report earned them five dollars, and they never made more than twenty in a year.
“From time to time.” He gestured at the table. “Feel free to look through them. I don't have anything weird in there.”
I laughed. “I hadn't really been worried until you mentioned it, but then again, having brothers should have prepared me for anything.”
Chuckling, he said, “There are some things we never grow out of.” Tipping his head toward the bathroom, he added, “Should take me about ten, fifteen minutes.”
I nodded and sat on the couch I’d picked out myself. It was just as comfortable as I remembered. Add that to a good book and the smell of his cologne that was lingering in the apartment already... Well, it was a great way to pass a quarter of an hour. I reached forward, thumbing through the books and magazines, seeing titles about retirement living bed and breakfasts and interior design. I picked up the first one that caught my eye,TheHomiest Bed and Breakfasts in North America.
I flipped to the first page and stared in awe at beautiful photography of a bed and breakfast in Montana. It looked like a giant white farmhouse with a chicken coop and a garden with rows of leafy green vegetables out back. With the sun setting over the scene, it looked like heaven on earth.
A block of text flowed beside the picture of the owners. They hadn't been able to have children of their own. So instead, they turned their big home into a bed and breakfast and renovated it over the years to become a great place for guests to stay. They said it was their way of building a family. My heart melted for the ways two people could make a home.
A cute colonial home in Georgia covered the next page. It was magnificent, with giant pillars and vines creeping up the sides of the building. This one had lots of planned activities for the guests, from drives around the Georgia countryside to classes on classic southern cooking. I pictured myself there, running an inn like that, and smiled. It would be idealistic to go along and see their joy at a new experience.
That was one of my favorite parts about working for the apartment company. Getting to see how proud people were of their apartments when they moved in for the first time and knowing I had a part in that... Incredible.
Curious about Tyler’s other interests, I set the book down and picked up the one about retirement living. The title,How Seniors Can Thrive in Community Living,stared back at me from the cover, alongside a group of women sitting around a table, playing cards.
Why would Tyler have this? His parents couldn’t possibly be old enough to need this. But as I opened the book, it opened to a page with a light-yellow sticky note. This section talked about how gardening could be really good for older people. Helping something grow, having regular responsibilities, and enjoying the fruits of their work positively impacted mental health in multiple studies.
My heart ached for the people who didn’t have that. I would never let my grandma go to a nursing home, not when she could stay with us. She deserved more than reruns of fifty-year-old TV shows on full volume and six o’clock bedtimes.
The bedroom door opened, and I looked back to see Tyler running a towel through his wet hair. With his arms lifted, his shirt pulled up, showing a sliver of his abs and a trail of hair into his waistband that practically had me salivating.
“That’s a good one,” he said.
My brain short-circuited. “What?”
He nodded toward my hands.The book!
I stood, setting it back on his coffee table. “What got you interested in senior living? Doesn't seem like a normal topic of interest for a construction worker.”
There was a laugh in his eyes as he said, “What type of things do you think construction workers are interested in?”