“Lunch time,” Bryson calls out. I drop the hammer in my hand and hear the loud thump it makes as it hits the ground.
I’m starving.
Mrs. McDaniel insisted we use her patio instead of having us hanging around on the back of our trucks to eat our lunches. Either way, I don’t care where I eat. I’m a big guy and food is a necessity to keep me going.
When I approach one of the tables, I see that Justin, Danny, and Scott are already seated and digging into their sandwiches. An arm loops around my shoulder, and I tilt my head to look at Bryson.
A wide grin spreads across his face. “My aunt makes the best sandwiches around.” He winks. His remark about my mother makes me laugh. It’s true. They’re simple lunchmeat sandwiches on fresh Amoroso’s rolls, but something about them just tastes like fucking heaven on earth. My mother makes a point to prepare all of the lunches for Reed Construction employees.
“Yep,” I agree. We take a seat at the table with the others.
Danny lifts his head and looks around, searching for something. “Where the hell is Santino?” he asks.
I give a one-shoulder shrug. “No damn clue, but he can eat on his own time,” I say, digging into the bag and searching for my sandwich.
“Damn,” Santino utters as he exits the sliding doors from inside. “No love whatsoever. It’s cool, Logan. I see how it is. I was just using the bathroom.”
I laugh once. “You know how I get when I’m hungry. I’m not waiting for no one.” It’s true. I turn into the fucking devil himself when I don’t eat. I open the foil of my sandwich, ignoring everyone around me, and bite into the deliciousness my mother prepared. Santino finally joins us at the table. Uncle George had to leave early today for another doctor’s appointment. Before leaving, he gave each man his assignment and put his son in charge.
Santino clears his throat. “Yo, I have to tell you about this chick I met up with last night.”
“The blonde from Wasted?” Danny asks.
While chewing my lunch, I sit back and watch the conversation unfold. “Nah.” Santino shakes his head. “Another chick.” He waves his hand. “So there we are in my bed. Her wrists are tied to my bedpost. Her tits are bouncing as I’m banging her. I’m whispering sweet nothings in Spanish, and—”
“Spanish?” I ask.
Santino turns his head my way, his face clearly annoyed by my interruption. “Yeah. She wanted me to talk Spanish to her while we banged.”
“But you don’t speak Spanish,” I remind him. He’s probably the only Puerto Rican I’ve met who doesn’t speak a lick of it.
Santino flashes a mischievous grin. “She doesn’t know that.”
I lean over the table, laughing at him. “So you basically chanted a made-up language and passed it off as Spanish?” He nods, and his smile grows wider. “And she bought it?” I ask. Santino nods again. The rest of the guys burst into a hard laugh. “I bow down to you, master.” I stand up, raise both arms, and bow.
“All right, can I finish my damn story now?”
The patio door slides open and closed. All six of us turn to see who it is. Both Jenna and her blonde friend—whose name I think is Charlie—step out in their bikinis, each with a towel in hand. Jenna glances over, hesitant to move forward. She starts to turn back around, but her friend tugs at her arm just in time. My eyes flick over her face; it’s a weird instant reaction for me. There are two hot girls practically naked before me, but I glance at her face? She ducks her head low, nervously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
When I last saw Jenna on Monday in the shed, it was clear that something was bothering her. The moistness on her cheeks and the red rim around her eyes clearly showed she’d been crying. I know I shouldn’t have allowed it to bother me as much as it did. Women cry all the damn time, but Jenna seemed to be lost deep in thought. I’ve seen that sad, empty look a dozen times before in my mother’s eyes—when she cries, when she thinks back on my father, and when she thinks about Sean’s death.
“Ladies,” Santino greets with a nod.
Charlie smiles brightly and walks over to our table, dragging Jenna the entire way. “Hey, guys. What are you all up to?”
Santino leans in and whispers to us, “Watch and learn, guys. Watch and learn.” He turns, giving Charlie his winning smile, and begins spouting off stuff in some made-up language in an attempt to sound sexy.
Charlie smiles, pleased. “What does that mean?” she asks.
Santino looks at her with smoldering eyes. It takes every bit of me to not burst out laughing. “It means, ‘I was thinking maybe you and I could be up to something.’” I was doing well biting back my laugh, but the moment my gaze shifts over to Jenna and I see her pressed brows and the look of disgust aimed right at Santino, I lose it. I burst into the hardest laugh I’ve ever had, which starts everyone else up. Laughter erupts around the table. Everyone but Santino is howling, but he just glares at us. That makes us laugh even harder.
“That’s not what you said,” Jenna pipes up.
Santino drags his glare her way. “Oh yeah? Then what did I say?”
“I have no clue,” she replies. I snort louder. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second I think her lips are about to twitch into a slight smile. But just as quickly, they fall back into the thin line she’s famous for.
“If you don’t speak Spanish, it may sound like gibberish to you. So, yeah, that’s exactly what I said.” Santino states matter-of-factly.
Charlie snakes her arm around Jenna’s shoulder, pulling her in closer. “But Jenna’s fluent in Spanish.”
Oh my God, this might be the best day of my life. I’m crying from laughing so hard. “Busted!” I cough out, pointing at Santino, who’s completely dumbfounded at this point.
Jenna nods. “Esto es cierto.” I’m not sure what she just said, but it’s priceless. It’s the cherry on top of this entire conversation.
Staggered and a bit played, Santino smacks his lips aside in a cocky way. He then changes the subject. “Anyway, you ladies still coming to the lake house party this weekend?”
Now this brings me to full alert. I wasn’t aware Santino invited them. I don’t care, but we typically keep the invites to a minimum, only inviting people we know and trust to our yearly summer bashes.
Originally, it was a family vacation getaway in the Poconos. My uncle built the home himself. I spent most every summer of my childhood at the small cottage by the lake. Sean, Bryson, and I looked forward to it every year. But as we grew older and my uncle’s business expanded, our little family vacations slowly vanished. It wasn’t until Bryson’s twenty-first birthday, when he convinced his father to give him the keys to the lake house for a small get-together with friends, that our new summer tradition began. Let’s just say that the “small” get-together was a major success, one we repeated most weekends that summer. Ever since, we’ve been throwing parties there on the weekends every summer, starting with Bryson’s birthday bash.