Cameron I woke up hungry. But that was nothing unusual. I always woke up with my body craving food. I groaned as I pulled myself up, sat on the couch where I slept. Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on my knees, rubbed my face with my hands. The sun wasn't up yet, but that was nothing unusual either. I always woke up before sunrise, and it wouldn't matter if I slept late last night or if I was exhausted. I could go back to sleep, but my mind wouldn't allow it. Working for Rick since high school had programmed my brain to wake up the same time everyday. I didn't even set up the alarm anymore. I got up, folded my blanket. Tried to reach the itch on my back but it was too far. "Shit." Normally I'd do my workouts first—it was easier to lift weights when my stomach was empty, but sometimes I gave in to more basic urges. I turned on the lights, staggered my way in to the kitchen, still sleepy, still trying to reach that itch with my fingers. Then my stomach growled. I opened the fridge, grabbed one of the boxed take-outs I must have had this week—hopefully. Sniffed it. Smelled okay. Pulling open a drawer, I reached for a fork, used that to scratch the itch—damn, that felt good. Wolfed down the food. When that didn't satisfy me, I got a bowl and poured cereal and milk and ate that too. Still hungry. Grabbed a couple of bananas. Crunched on an apple. I made a mental note to buy some peaches at the store. Is she still sleeping? She was probably still asleep, I thought as I took a leak, then turned on the shower, closing my eyes as the warm water dragged away the rest of the sleep from my body. And once she woke up, I imagined her going straight for her cup of coffee, bumping into walls on the way to the kitchen. Hair in disarray. Clothes rumpled. Skin warm. Lips soft. What did she wear to bed? Did she wear anything at all? I got out of the shower, reached for the towel, and wrapped it around my waist. Brushed my teeth, reached for the razor to shave. I wondered what she'd feel like, smell like in the morning. She'd be unaware of her surroundings, and I could wake her up with a kiss on her neck, nuzzling her sensitive skin there. It would be warm, and her scent would be concentrated there. My hands would travel down— "Shit." I winced as my hand slipped up and nicked myself with the blade. Even thinking about her was ruining me, I thought as I washed the cut with freezing water. I grabbed tissues, put pressure on it. I couldn't help but laugh when I remembered the events from last night. Her temper. That puddle. She was... larger than life. Bigger than the world I chose to surround myself in, it seemed. I put on jeans, then headed to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. I looked out my window, standing at the sink, sipping my coffee as I watched the sun rise. Smiled as I remembered the sewage coffee she'd served me in her home. What a woman, I thought as I stepped in to my office. It was easier to conceal my real self to people. There was a darkness lurking inside me. It was there, burrowed close to the surface, waiting. I could feel it even now. I wasn't sure if they could handle or accept the real me. No, that was a lie. I knew they wouldn't. But with her... a little bit of the real comes out. She demanded it, and it seemed I was helpless not to give in. It alarmed me a little. I wasn't used to it. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not, but I must have because I wanted her to... stay. For a little while longer at least. Never wanted a woman to stay before. The thought disturbed me. I dismissed it, tucked it away for now. I sat on my desk, opened my laptop. Checked my business email, replied to the urgent ones. I hadn't seriously decided about expanding my business, although I toyed with the idea now and then. With a lot of help from Rick, I had built my connections and clients, and fattened my bank account over the years of working for and with him. My company was a one-man operation, but it suited me just fine. I could pick or drop projects whenever I wanted. I hired people to work for me for one project or two when needed, and after that was done we both moved on. I answered to no one, shackled to no one once a house was done. It was what I wanted. Leaning against my chair, I grabbed my phone and called Rick. "Mornin', kiddo," he greeted. "You working for me today?" "No, sir." "Got a flip you're doing?" "Not yet." I got one on the line. It'd bring me a couple hundred thousand potential profit with all the upgrades I was planning, but it was a big job and it would take up a lot of my time. "Thinking about it." "I got one for ya if you want. Not even in the market yet. I'll get Deb to send you the details." "Sounds good. Speaking of Deb. She going on maternity leave soon?" "Yeah, why? You helpin' her deliver the baby?" he chuckled. I could hear him moving around. He was probably at a site already. "I heard she broke Logan's fingers when she had their daughter. Think I'm keeping mine intact for now." He laughed heartily. A hacking one. He had a raspy voice from years of smoking. Started smoking cigarettes at nine years old out of boredom, he'd said. He grew up in a trailer park, in a town where there was nothing to do. So he'd smoked a lot, but never did drugs. He watched his brothers waste their life in prison for it. Eventually he left his town and made something of himself by working in construction in the city, then eventually for this man who saw potential in him and taught him everything he knew about building houses. Rick got his certificates and licenses and owned his company now. Just like everyone in the business, he experienced a rough patch when the market crashed, lost a bunch of properties. He had to ask everyone he knew for loans to keep his business afloat, but eventually he'd succeeded. He was one of the very successful contractors in Manitoba now. I owed this man a lot. I guess he saw himself in me. He took me under his wing, treated me like his son and student. He was one of the very few important people in my life. I would give up my limbs for him if he asked. "Women are strong, powerful creatures," he said. I could hear him scratching his beard. He and I usually forgot to shave when we were busy with a project. "What is it, son? Spit it out." He knew me well. "Got a favor to ask you." "All right." All right. He'd said it simply, without a thought. He'd been my father when mine couldn't be bothered with me. "I know someone who might take over Deb's job. I can vouch for her." I cleared my throat. "You'd need her twice a week and weekends at the office, right?" He didn't say anything for a moment and then, "Sure, makes my job easier if I don't need to interview a bunch. A girl, huh? Yours?" "Ah." I think... I'd like her to be. "A friend." He chuckled. "Let's grab a beer sometime this week. Come by the house, kiddo." "Will do." "You doing good with your studies?" "It's only a couple of classes, but yes, sir. I am." "Good. See you soon, son." After I hang up, I sent a text to someone, got the ball rolling. Half hour before eight, my phone chirped a text. Spitfire: Hey bigfoot, how did you like your swim last night? I chuckled and read on.