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penvisions · 2 days ago

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services requested {chapter six}

Pairing: Kept Man! Joel Miller x Sugar Momma! Reader

Summary: Time apart allows Joel to focus on the renovations of your home while you busy yourself with working alongside a close friend. But the way you to communicate in the meantime might be considered the complete opposite of the agreement to move slowly you two made...

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, joel is older and tired, power dynamics, sexual undertones, instant connection, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, angst, family drama, strained family dynamics, mentions of past trauma, mentions of physical attack (very brief), allusions to predatory behavior, allusions to power imbalances within the tattoo world, soft joel, oral (m receiving), um i think that's it?

A/N: OKAY I LIED ABOUT NOT POSTING WRITING but am now officially shifting into focus on finals lol this is a long one, but with the help of @lotusbxtch and @itsokbbygrlbutworsethistime i think the narrative worked out better than my first drafts. also if you were tagged in a poll post- tumblr decided to eat that and i haven't redone it yet lol

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You’re so warm.

You’re so comfortable.

Burrowed in the blankets with a breeze sneaking in through the screen of the cracked open balcony door, the smell of salt in the air like a soft balm.

You feel a weight beside you, creating a slight dip in the bed that you’re sunk into on your right. A huff of damp breath on lands on your shoulder in an even pattern, the brush of thick scruff there too and you smile hazily through the tendrils of sleep that don’t seem to want to let you go.

Everything is slow and syrupy, the way your body hums at a low frequency as you shift to your side, loose hair falling over your shoulder. It tickles and causes goosebumps to sprout along your shoulders, the soft fabric of your sleep tank top caressing in a way that makes you clench your thighs, nipples hardening at the cooler air that sweeps underneath the covers.

A small huff, a heavier breath hits your collarbone while a thick hand curls over the flare of your waist.

You dip your head low and press your lips to the tip of Joel’s nose, the skin so warm on your lips. A gentle one to the full pout of his bottom lip, to the butt of his chin, the column of his neck. Mind slow as sleep wanes naturally, you realize it’s some of the best sleep you’ve had in a while, because of the man who lays beside you.

He doesn’t stir but his lips purse the smallest bit as you gently push against his chest with both your hands onto his back. The hand around your waist drags over the fabric of your sleep shirt, pulling it with the deft weight but you pay it no mind as you continue to kiss down his sturdy body. He’s bare save for a pair of boxer briefs, his own shirt shucked off sometime in the night and his dark chest hair is soft against your palms as you caress him gently.

The sheets move with you both as you settle yourself over his legs, chest pressed to the thick trunks of his thighs, the little glimpses of ink below each knee sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. He’s got such little tattoos, from the two you now know he has on his legs to the bullseye on the soft spot between his thumb and pointer finger on his left hand. They’re a little blown out with age and it makes you wonder how old he was when he got them. He’s got one on his inner right wrist as well, but you know the meaning behind it as your mom cried to you over the phone one day after moving into the neighborhood.

It's an ode to his mother.

Such a sweet, kindhearted man.

The total opposite of what you were used to and it…it mists your eyes a bit as you gaze up at his face from where you lean over his soft stomach. He’s good, you know it in your very soul. Even if your mind is taking a moment to catch up- always watching for signs to run. You really hope you wouldn’t have to run from him, he’s…he’s filled your life with so much and you’ve only known him for a handful of months.

You hope to know him for far longer.

You press the thought, the prayer, into the skin above his belly button, trialing your nails down the same path a dark trail of hair makes to his waistband. He’s half hard beneath the fabric on his waist, his chest rising and falling with deeper breaths as his body revels in your soft attention. His plush lips part as you nuzzle your cheek against the weight of him. He pulses as you do, again as you press a kiss to the length, to the head. Just as your fingers begin to trace the outline of him, your palm whispers over him until there’s suddenly a hand clamping down over yours and pressing it firmly against the full hardness that’s built up.

“Oh!” Your breath leaves you, completely caught up in your slow, sensual exploration of Joel’s body. Eyes flick up quickly to see him peering down at you with sleepy, hooded eyes. But there’s no mistaking how dilated his pupils are, how fast his breathing turned.

Without a word, he’s helping you push the elastic down and the thick, hardness of him springs up. It lays heavy against the softness of his belly and you keep your eyes locked on his as you lean in and lick a stripe up the underside. The moan that breaks free from his chest is deep, a rumble you feel in your bones and sends pleasure skittering over your skin like lightning.

The skin below tightens, draws up and you feel the bump of his balls on the sensitive skin of your neck, heady and so fucking soft. You lean back a little to press a kiss there, a garbled sound floating into the air as Joel’s neck arches, head flat against the pillow to display his messy curls in a halo around his beautiful face. With steady hands, you cup them and massage the velvet skin, nails scratching delicately. His cock twitches and you feel powerful.

But you don’t abuse it, keeping your attention soft but steady as you reach underneath just a little to rub the pad of your middle finger just behind them.

“Sh-shit-!” His large hands tangle in your hair, almost holding you in place. His knuckles pop and his hips jerk, the heat of him lands against your cheek, smearing his arousal there. You reach for him, wrapping a firm hand around the base and circle your tongue to taste where it leaks from him, eyes peering through lashes to see him staring down at you with such a wrecked expression.

With a small nod, more of a twitch of his chin, you wrap your lips around him and hum.

He’s sitting up suddenly, pushing your shoulders back to duck his gaze and see your own wild eyes.

“I want to see you, will you let me?” His hands clench around the fabric, the pull of it taut to stretch over your breasts and give him a visual of how hard your nipples are. The jiggle of the flesh there taunts him, makes his tongue heavy in his mouth for the feel of it between his teeth. You lean back on your haunches, making such a pretty picture for him in the dimly lit room, the sunlight sneaking in from where the balcony curtains aren’t quite shut all the way. The fabric is tugged over your head, thrown to the end of the bed and he gulps as he takes in your full figure.

“Perfect, darlin’,” He presses the compliment to your collarbone as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

“Just…no um, no looking down there.” You whisper, self-consciousness and a little flutter of nerves lighting you up along with the pleasure of feeling him so close. You nipples brush his bare chest and your lashes flutter, head knocking back as he peppers kisses to your shoulders and neck. “But you can touch.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with is good enough for me.” And then he captures your lips in a searing kiss and maneuvers you back down on the bed.

“Dad has a crush on the neighbor’s daughter.” Ellie says as soon as Sarah and her pull up to the pickup line at the airport. Joel is standing there in a nicer pair of jeans they’ve never seen before paired with a silk shirt that has abstract splotches of color. The glitter of a gold chain about his neck and the screen of his phone flash in the bright sunlight. He’s peering down at the screen through a new pair of sunglasses, thumbs working fast as he types into the device with a crooked smile.

“No way! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me as soon as you landed,” Sarah pouts, eyes watching the way her father is completely absorbed in what he’s doing. “Is that why he flew in separately?”

“Dude, it was straight out of one of your romance novels! Grey’s mom came over to give him the keys for some work he’ll be doing on her house because she left on a trip. And man, the moment he knew she was about to board a plane alone- he took off! He literally just-“ Ellie mimes turning a wheel harshly and screeches lowly to imitate tired peeling on the street.

“He’s never really showed interest in anyone before,” Sarah muses as she catches sight of her dad throwing his head back in a deep laugh- she can practically feel the vibrations of the loud wheezing that sound when he does. His curls bounce and the dimple in his right cheek creates a shadow amid his trimmed scruff. He’s fucking glowing and it makes her feel warm all over- all she’s ever wanted for him is to be happy.

“He spent the past few days with her in fuckin’ LA. That’s where he’s been, not some job or whatever he might’ve told you.”

“He didn’t say much, just said that something came up but he’d be here.”

“She’s badass, Sar. Like full fledged tattoo artist with a giant following. She’s hired him as like a personal contractor, he’s gonna help build her new shop front. Keep him busy without breaking his back, like he tends to do throwing himself into jobs he takes on too close to each other. Her only works for her and whatever else he chooses to take outside of that.”

“He can focus on his woodworking…” Sarah feels an immense relief, the worry of him being on job site after job site with little to know space between them easing at the thought of him being able to have more agency to pick his work now.

“He always did like that a little more, making the cabinets and furniture for the places he does remodels on…” Ellie continues, thinking the same thing but also knowing that you would give him better compensation, better budgets, a reason to continue with a little more caution than throwing himself into everything he can take on to keep the business afloat. She’s already a witness to the shift in Joel’s energy, the way he doesn’t sluggishly wake each morning before the sun rises after practically collapsing into the bed or couch at a late hour.

“Should we ask her to get a workshop, so he has more room than the garage?” It’s a question that neither of them know you’ve considered already.

“He’d never ask for it himself.”

Then Sarah is honking the horn to finally get Joel’s attention, and his head snaps up.

“There’s just one more thing…” Ellie’s voice dips, as if she’s almost…nervous to say the thing stuck in her throat.

“She’s around our age isn’t she?”

“She’s got about six years on us.”

Just as Joel opens the back door of the SUV, they break the conversation up and greet him with enthusiasm.

“So, a- uh, friend of mine, got us some open reservations for a spa and a nice steakhouse we should pin down times for. Gift for all of us.”

“Hell yeah, happy dad’s birthday!”

“Happy dad’s birthday!” Sarah cheers as she shifts the gear into drive with a glance in the rearview mirror. Joel is looking down at his phone with a goofy smile and she mirrors that too as she drives off from the pickup zone.

Your phone is trilling before you even realize you’ve pressed the call button. But it’s still set on the table as your eyes rove over to where your friend wandered off to. She’s barely at the bar when a man approaches her, arms displaying beautiful ink. Her eyes drag over him, her attention caught completely, and you can’t help but giggle at the heat behind their eye contact even from so far away.

“Sweetheart, everythin’ okay? All I hear is loud music and I think you just giggled. Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice is like a faint breeze, not quite registering in that moment as you feel the pulse of the bass playing from the speakers and your eyes follow the colored flashes of exposed skin and shadows from the lights that illuminate the club in an erotic way. The alcohol in your system is making everything glow and tingle, captivating your mind and making you feel like you’re truly living. Moments like that still few and far between, even if it’s been nearly six months since you’ve completely revamped your life.

“Hey there, looks like my friend and your friend have left us in the dust.” A tall, gorgeous man approaches you and slides into the seat that is now empty. “How about another round on me until they make their way back?”

“Grey!” Joel hollers, not wanting to hear whatever is going on and unsure if you dialed him on accident, he turns the muted television off in the room Sarah’s given him for the week. It’s the downstairs one of the townhouse, Ellie upstairs in the other, so there’s no chance of anyone hearing the slight desperation in his tone. You hear him this time and scrabble for your phone.

“Sorry, this is important!” And you scurry up and out the front door, waving at your friend to signal you were stepping out. Your voice is sweet like honey, thick and drawling a bit like his does when he’s tired at the end of the day or just woken up from a good night’s sleep. “Hiiii, Joel, how long have you been on the line?”

“A few minutes, where are you, are you okay?” Joel doesn’t dare ask after the voice that approached you…you two hadn’t exactly talked out the specifics of what ‘going slow’ meant when it came to the attraction you shared. He knows he isn’t the type to give attention to someone else while traversing this shifting dynamic with you, but you’re younger and you encounter far more interesting people than him on nearly an hourly basis.

“Yes, yes, yes. I am A-okay, how are you?” He can hear the slur of your words, the breathy way you’re speaking, he can practically smell the rose of your perfume mixed with whatever alcohol you’ve obviously consumed. “I was thinking about you, the bed is so big without you in it.”

Good lord, he thinks as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Disjointed memories of your skin underneath his roaming hands, the whimpers he kissed from your lips as he pulled pleasure from you, his own skin prickling even as heat races down his spine and he huffs out a disbelieving laugh, you’re drunk dialing him.

“Are-are you havin’ a good time, sweetheart?”

“Ye-ah, but- but if I have one more person come up to me and tell me a corny pick-up joke, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Don’t like ‘em?”

“I…I like them, but not if someone is serious about it.”

“Well,” And Joel settles into the bed, pulling the covers over him even as he bends his knees and feels the length of his cock between his thighs. The hardness there begs for attention, for hands to caress, but he’s alone and only has your voice on the other side of the line. His voice dips deeper, like gravel heated by the sun in midday and he murmurs into the phone. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?”

You make a sinful little sound, like a whimper that you’ve clamped down by biting your bottom lip. And he knows he’s done good if the pulse of his cock is any indication.

“Are you askin’ me if I’m wearing underwear, Mr. Miller?” He groans, reaching to press a palm to his cock, the fabric damp where the tip of him strains.

“Fuck, are you?” He rasps out before he can stop it, this was supposed to be a joke to soothe your annoyance. But it feels very, very real.

“Nope.” You’re all smooth confidence when the ‘p’ pops and he pictures the purse of your lips around the word.

He’s about to say something else but then the line goes dead. He tries to call but it goes straight to voicemail and then his text just displays ‘sent’. Feeling considerably cock-blocked, he realizes that your phone must’ve died. So he does what any sane person would do and checks your socials. The Instagram page that he had last seen was your old one, kept up for now set to private for reasons regarding your ongoing litigation with the court system. But he got the name of your actual one and scans the profile.

There’s a video of you dancing with the friend you must be out with, all strobing lights and bumping music, a scene he’d never frequented himself even before Sarah came along. He scrolls through the photos as his body calms down from your exchange, seeing flashes of your life through them. He can clearly see the transition from where you were before to where you are now in Austin.

His heart skips a beat when he notices the back of his head and shoulders in one photo, his hands dirty with dried mortar as he lay tiles down in your parents kitchen. Tendrils of your loose hair blur the corner of the photo- you must’ve leaned over him when he was caught up in the work.

And then there’s a new photo of you that resets his spot in the middle of your feed to the very top.

It must’ve been set to post because he really does think your phone died in the hectic outing you’re on.

It looks professional, your make-up is done and you’re standing in front of a shopfront, the shot taken from far enough away for him to see the name painted onto the building’s façade. The post is announcing your guest residence at the shop with the date for tomorrow being the grand opening, inviting people to drop by to mingle and make an appointment in person. Your assistants information and profile is linked for a better shot at securing something.

Joel saves the photo and assigns it to your contact before locking his phone and settling into the bed completely.

“Beau?” You call as you open the door to the shop you’ll be working at for the time being, guest spots are always tricky but they get good word of mouth and social traction online. You want to help make your friends own dream a success and if that means spending some time in Los Angeles, then who are you to disagree?

“Ba-by, you made it!” The second you’re through the door, a figure encloses you into their arms and squeezes you. Easy laughter rings out as you wrap your arms around the tall man and brace for the spin you know he’s about to do. Lifting you easily, he does. Spinning you a few times before he settles you back down on your feet.

“Beau, you are as energetic as ever.” You press your chin into his chest and simply breathe. This man, you feel so incredibly safe with this man. He’s seen you through your worst moments, helped you to escape a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in. Beat the crap out of your ex-husband when he found out what had you ignoring his calls and disappearing from a shared social scene. Helped to testify against the bastard and get you a good protection clause from the judge that resided over your case. He’s a good man. One of your true friends, he hadn’t turned on you like some of the others. Siding with the wrong person in an obvious person in a black and white situation.

“All for you, baby.” He leans down to press his lips to your forehead, and you deflate into him. He holds your weight and simply holds you. Something you’ve grown an aversion to, basic human contact beyond that required of your trade. Joel is the only other one who’s felt safe enough.

“Wait a minute…” Beau is pushing you back a little to look over your face and he sees the spark in your eyes that’s been gone for far too long, lingering below the surface but not shining through. “You totally had sex, didn’t you?”

Your answering scoff and avoidance of eye contact is all the answer he needs.

“You did, is that why you didn’t come out last night?”

“He actually left two days ago and Kumi dragged me out to some really loud club down on Sunset.”

“Hmm, I know the place,” His green eyes watch you as you avoid his gaze. Knowing you’ll share your thoughts with him in your own time.

“We didn’t… have sex.” You detangle yourself from him and begin to look over the decorated entry way to the shop. Completed but not open yet, that would be tomorrow, after the little party to kick off the announcement held tonight. You approach the counter, glittering body jewelry beneath shining glass and open one of the binders laid out atop it.

“But you did let someone in your pants,” Beau rests the length of an arm against the countertop and leans on his shoulder to watch you with soft eyes.

“Well, more like I got into his, but-“ You wave a hand at him while the other leafs through a binder atop the counter that will act as a check in and transaction point for the shop. “Semantics.”

“Grey, that’s so good to hear. And not because I’m a raging pervert like you like to tease.” He reaches a hand out to latch onto your wrist. “This is genuinely good, you deserve to feel comfortable and to have someone you care about like that.”

“It…it scares me.” You confess in a small voice.

“That means it’s real.”

Ellie is all but shoving her phone under his nose one evening as he melts into the couch, head leaning back over the top of the backing cushions. He’d finished the flooring installation in your kitchen, the bathrooms, put plush carpet down in your bedroom and upstairs hallway today. His back aches and his knees keep clicking but he doesn’t mind if it means you’ll have the perfect house.

“Geez, kid, gonna pop me one like that.” He rights himself a little, hand taking the device from her small one. Pulled up on her screen are photos you’ve posted within the hour. You’re standing wrapped up in the arms of a man, posing for the camera with a wide smile and a lot of skin on display. The name of a magazine branded above you both, your names listed on in smaller text beside your center image. The announcement for the shop you’ve flown all across the desert for in print.

“She’s gonna be gone a while, says she’s helping to get everything off the ground and running.” Joel hears her as he scrolls through the caption announcing as much, a month- a little more and many thanks and praises for the press and the friend you’re helping that can only be the man wrapped around you.

He’s fucking handsome, Joel will admit that much. But not the twinge of jealousy that rises and wans in his chest quickly.

“Yeah, she’s pretty important.”

“She also teased the announcement of her own shop opening soon. The one you’re building. She put your name and said some pretty nice things about you in the article.”

“I am buildin’ it for her.”

“Yes, dad, I know.” Joel looks up from the little edited video of you seated and hunched over someone’s back as you outline a giant formation of flowers surrounding a cattle skull. Your concentration is furrowing your brow, your arms flexing with the wipe of the spot you’re working on before you press the tip of the tattoo machine back down. The video flashes to a party inside the shop the post is about, so many beautiful people mingling and laughing. Tilted party hat atop your head as you and your friend raise shining flutes in a cheer.

“The last slide is of her talking about, um, the thing you told me about.”

‘Ah, yes, I was waiting for you to ask about that.’

‘Only if you don’t mind sharing some of what happened. We know that you’re currently going through the court system but have always been vocal about equality and personal safety within the scene. But we do, unfortunately, see it all the time in this industry. The play of power and the intimacies that develop between apprentices and the people leading them into the scene.’

‘My own experience was a little extreme, but rest assured, the shops and people I associate with are vetted and do not tolerate anything toxic. Or that could lead to toxic behavior developing. We really want to try and nurture positive energy here, with the work we do and the spaces we create. It’s about the art, about the sharing of something that can be so deeply personal to everyone that walks through the door.’

‘You’ve worked alongside a lot of officials to try and change general contract wording, to raise awareness for the things that have happened and could still happen in these spaces. But we still see the almost…defense for the people who dole out the quid pro quo exchange of sexual favors in exchange for guidance and teaching of skills when they meet a certain… standard of appearance.’

‘Yes, we do see a lot of defense for perpetrators in those cases. People romanticize situations that can crop up. Things along the lines of ‘they can train me any day’ or ‘learning a new skill and sharing a bed, sounds like a dream come true’. But it’s not. The trauma of being asked that let alone accepting the conditions proposed by someone in a higher standing than you, it’s…it’s a disrespect to both the art and the parties involved. Infatuation and physical attraction are one thing, reading about those types of relationships in books and online, but…there is that rare instance that a genuine connection can bloom from spending so much time with someone and working alongside them day after day.’

‘We’re erring into fantasy territory and the like, wouldn’t you think?’

‘Haha, yes we very much are. And that’s okay! Fantasy and exploring situations in which you find tempting or even as a way to cope with things that have happened to you are all a part of being human. So long as all parties involved give full consent and are okay with playing out scenarios, go right ahead with your little horny selves. But don’t forget the real-life trauma of human connection shattering when it’s not and certain lines are crossed that shouldn’t be.’

‘Genuine connection is the whole reason we’re here, isn’t it? Finding an artist that can convey the thing you want and then creating it for you to permanently place on your skin. Finding friends and making social connections with those in a shop that you feel comfortable it. Finding a scene that accepts you as you are and helps you to be more yourself.’

‘Couldn’t have said it better myself. We’re all just looking for that- to feel seen, to really connect with someone. Someone taking advantage of another person’s vulnerability in any way is a fucking disgrace.’

‘There you have it, be nice, be respectful and believe that Grey here will put you behind bars if you so much as think of abusing your power in the tattoo scene!’

Laughter fades out as the video ends, the screen going blank in his hand.

“She’s really somethin’, ain’t she?” He’s completely unaware of the look Ellie gives him as his eyes close and he feels a comforting warmth in his chest. You’re so eloquent, so free with the things you share for the sake of others, the best kind of good that he can’t believe he’s been privy to in quiet and shared moments.

“She’s a fucking badass.”

“Shit.” Joel’s tires screech as he breaks to a stop right outside your house, truck idling in the street as he notices a foreign car in the driveway. He feels his heart thud heavily in his chest as he realizes that he can see a shadow pass by the living room window to reappear in the kitchen one. Frowning, he pulls the truck into the drive beside it and puts it into park, making sure to block the exit way if the person comes running out.

You weren’t due home for a few more days, and he was just driving by to see if something for the backyard had been delivered. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears as he grabs a hammer from the cab’s small back seat where his tool belt is set. He can’t hear anything but the rustling of boxes being moved, but they should be securely in the garage alongside your vehicle. The door opens, unlocked and he frowns at that. He remembers locking it two days ago when he had finished painting. He was set to assemble the furniture he made you, some of it based on the things you linked in an email or you were trying to find things that measured correctly for the new dimensions of spaces. Some of it he bought outright with the card supplied to him and others he put built himself.

Rattling sounds from the kitchen and he slowly approaches the threshold from the entryway. He raises the hammer and rounds the trim he just replaced.

“Drop it!” He barks, voice bellowing deep and loud.

“Shit!” You squeak, scrabbling for the chef’s knife you just unpacked from one of the boxes that has the label ‘kitchenware’ on it. You wield it tightly, held high as you turn around, blood rushing in your ears as you brace for an attack. You can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears and your vision is sharp, almost too bright as you take in the form of a large man in the doorway that leads into the rest of the house.

The second Joel’s eyes land on you between the island and the counter that runs along the opposite wall, he’s lowing the hammer and taking a deep breath. All of the rage and anger leaving him as he realizes he just scared the crap out of you. Guilt slams into him as he see’s you almost frozen, your chest the only thing moving as your breaths come and go too fast for his liking.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry!” He’s setting it on the island and rounding the corner as the knife clatters to the ground from your shaking, his voice triggering the tremors. He hovers while you seem frozen in place, not sure if he should reach for you. “I thought it was someone stealin’.”

You turn away from him and his heart stutters at the tears you try to hide with the action. But he doesn’t reach for you, even as you wrap your arms around yourself.

There’s a honk that sounds from the street and he curses before saying he’ll be right back. You hear the tires of his truck along the road before you hear the engine cut off. Just as he’s walking back through the door, closing and locking it behind him you’ve wiped the tears away and offer him a watery twitch of your mouth.

“Did you really leave your truck running in the street?”

“Well, uh,” He pockets his keys and looks a little bashful as he looks over the open boxes and the way your sandals slide along the new tile. “I thought someone was in your house and-“

“You’re a silly man,” You walk right up to him, despite the little trembles that shake your hands still. His breathing picks up. Leaning up, you press a kiss to his jawline. “But admirable.”

“Did you take a look around, everythin’ to your liking?” He deflect. But you allow him the grace and follow him around the house as he shows you the minor work he’s done in your time away. Parting with another apology for startling you and a brush of his knuckles against your cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear afterwards.

“Knock knock!” A distant voice calls, pulling your focused attention from the tablet you’re trying to connect to the printer. The bell above the door jingles even if the door doesn’t open, though someone is certainly trying to get in through it. You set the tablet down atop your station and peer around the corner toward the lobby. Ellie is peering through the glass with a cupped hand and her face breaks into a silly smile when she spies you.

“Grey! Lemme in, yeah?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” You project your voice with a smirk as you approach the door and clock the lock open.

“I’m such a pleasure.” She winks at you before looking all along the walls and taking in the heavily decorated space. “So…I’m actually here to ask you something.”

“Is your dad okay?” Panic flares suddenly, thinking the worst of things that could happen. Her next words don’t exactly lend comfort but they do dispel the extremes floating in your mind.

“Dad’s fine, but it is about him. Not even complaining about the way that he nearly broke his finger yesterday hammerin’ something all to hell in the garage.”

“Okay?” You worry for a moment about that statement, but you look around the small parking lot to find only your own vehicle. “Did you take the bus here?”

“What? Oh yeah, no car equals public transport.” She waves off your concern, mind already thinking of a way to approach the subject with Joel. Ellie is tough, but with school in the middle of a semester you wonder how she’s getting to and from campus safely. “I wanted to ask you about the city block you bought.”

“Sarah and I have been trying to get him to sell his woodworking for years, but he’s always got this list of excuses, ya know? Too much space to rent, doesn’t have the proper tools, doesn’t have the time blah blah blah.”

“Ellie, are you asking me to ask your dad to build himself the perfect spot for him to exactly that?” You could almost laugh at the very same thought process you were trying to nail down into more a more concrete idea.

“Well, yeah. I know you aren’t exactly…shy about doin’ stuff for him and this would help him to maintain a hobby.” She shrugs, though you see the way her fingers twitch at her sides- exactly like how Joel’s do when he’s nervous or thinking something over to hard, accessing.

“I’m not shy about doing stuff for him, you’re right. But he- uh- this is kinda big.”

“But you’ll try?” She holds out a hand for you to shake, an agreement between the two of you. Obliging her, as you really didn’t know what to do with the space other than to potentially rent it out to artists for shows or as a shop front for a local business looking for a new space, gifting it to Joel makes perfect sense.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” You clasp your hand with hers and shake it.

“I’m really glad you two met and not just cause you’re loaded,” She laughs something bright. “Not just cause of that, but he’s also…happier.”

“He makes me happy too.” You confess to her. Her eyes catching on the print with a bunch of different moths framed on the wall has your mind shifting into business mode. Watching closely as her hand coming up to rub at the thick scar tissue on her right forearm.

“You know…I can draw one of those up for you to put there.” Her face swings up to you, smiling softly at her. “If you want?”

“Well, well, well.” You trill as you lift your sunglasses from their perch on your nose up to the top of your head. The sounds of drills and hammering echo all around and the very real frame of your shop stands in front of you on half of a city block downtown. But that’s not what has your attention- it’s Joel Miller in a rather fitting shirt and dirty pair of jeans walking towards you with a little sway of his slim hips.

The broadness of his shoulders, the way his boots give him an extra inch or two over you. Your eyes linger on the way his jeans are held up by a sturdy belt and just below that…is a tool belt laden with different gleams of metal and wood.

“Like what you see?” He’s smirking at you as he raises his hands up and spreads them wide, flashing you a bit of his tan abdomen as the hem of his shirt lifts up.

“I know I do!” One of his men holler from somewhere within the collection of lumber planks that will eventually be your home away from home.

“Shut it, Hank!” He tosses over his shoulder with a little frown. His voice is a bark that stirs something in you, but it isn’t fear. “Let’s get on the exterior!”

“Be nice, they love you.”

“We do not!” A chorus bellows out and you try to muffle your laughter behind a hand when Joel’s shoulders inch up closer to his ears.

“Hear that? That’s the thanks I get for keepin’ on their sorry asses in the shift from public to private business.”

“What about me?” You project your voice, ducking around Joel’s reach for you. Your boots scuff the ground and stir up dust. You click the fob for your trunk to open and the smell of baked goods and fresh coffee float through the air. All sounds of work stop and Joel rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms- watching the way the five guys rush toward you both. His biceps bulge at the action and your eyes snag there as a smug smile breaks out on your face.

He catches the look and dips his head when your eyes flash up to his, he feels like he’s won the little exchange until you turn around and bend over to retrieve the supplies from your trunk and your short skirt inches up to reveal the backs of your thighs, the ink there soaking in the warm sun and stalling his breath.

He’s about to approach you when the guys flow past him with quick steps and loud praise for you and the breakfast you’re gracing them with. You smoothly step aside, though none of them reach to pat you on the shoulder or a fist bump, they know and respect the way you aren’t fond of causal touch. Joel’s heart titters as he watches the tension in your shoulders remain until they’re all over by the trailer used as an office and the tables in front of it for them to have somewhere to sit for breaks.

The pastry box is open, the large to go coffee carafes are set up and the small collection of creamers and sweeteners you brought are removed from paper grocery bags and placed into the serving tray full of the ice they’ve cut out of a plastic one. It’s cute, the way you tried to get a little of everything for them, for him. But it seems you’re holding out on the others as you hold out a square of foil to him. It’s warm when he takes it, fingers brushing yours.

“Foreman gets a breakfast sammie,” He resists the urge to pull you into him and wrap his arms around you, to press a kiss to your temple in thanks. “I…also wanted to run somethin’ by you.”

“Let’s-“ And then he is touching you, a hand at the small of your back to guide your willing body toward the trailer. “Let’s go inside if it’s gonna be more than a minute.”

“Okay.”

Once inside, with cooler air surrounding you both and you’re alone do your shoulders finally loose that tension held there in the muscles.

“So the second building, we’ve got the parameters for the outline. Marked ‘em.” He brings out the blueprints for the entire block when you ask after them, his sandwich held in one hand as he takes a bite and watches the way your eyes rove over the flattened paper. Long nails trace the markers and then the small lot for parking that will be filled and paved in a few days’ time.

“I wanted to talk to you about how to design the space the best way for a workshop.”

“Sure, I can do some research. What kinda workshop were you thinin’?” He says around a mouthful, reaching for the water bottle he’s got on the desk.

“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m like trying to keep you on a leash or like within my sights or-or- or something like that-but um, a woodworking shop?”

“Why would I think- oh,” His gaze knocks up from where he’s sitting down. “That’s…that’s a lot to offer…me.”

“But it’s…it’s okay that I’m offering?”

“Of course it is, sweetheart, but it’s- it’s a lot.”

“I just…I love what I do and you’re making me the space I’ve always dreamed of.” You sit on the edge of the desk, fixing your skirt to cover your thighs. “I just wanted to offer you a space of your own and the girls, they said…they said it would be a good thing for you to have it away from home. A shopfront to sell your cabinets or furniture and-“

“You and the girls talked it over?” Wide eyes, brown and captivating in their expressiveness train on you, causing your chest to feel tight and your palms to sweat despite the ac running in the small space.

“We did, they care about you so much, Joel. They want you to have everything you want and I-I do too.”

“You want me to have everythin’ I want or that you care about me?” He’s rounding the desk and stands in front of you, hands twitching at his sides.

“Both, Joel.” You take in everything about his hopeful expression, the pure goodness of him. “And that terrifies me.”

You wring your hands together, a little nervous to bare true emotions even in the company of someone who has been nothing but honest with you in turn.

“I thought about you every day I was gone and that’s…that’s new for me to miss someone. I mean, I’m barely a year out from being divorced and you-I, Joel, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Missed you too,” He connects the things he feels with the ones you’re telling him you feel, bridging the gap in a way that he never anticipated doing again.

“Sometimes…genuine connection sneaks up on you.” His palms curl over your knees and he’s stepping between them as he parts them.

“Are you quoting me to me?” You narrow your eyes at him, a little self-conscious that he saw the stuff circulating online. It wasn’t that you didn’t regret the things you said in that impromptu interview, but that it was your heart on display for the world to see. You could handle what the world may say but Joel…you cared about what he thought.

“More like paraphrasing.” His lips brush against yours, so fucking close but not quite touching fully. You feel the way he rolls them, feel the wet heat tease of his tongue as he runs it along his bottom lip. “I’m only teasin’…a little.”

Just as you open your mouth to connect it with his, the door to the trailer swings open.

You jump up, nails digging into Joel’s arms nearly breaking his nose with how your head flies up. Joel too, has pushed away, head swinging around to the door.

Tommy Miller stands there, his looks of surprise hardening into one of thinly veiled anger at the sight of you two tearing apart like a couple of guilty teenagers.

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