First thing, the supply shipment came in wrong, which held up some work. Then there was continuous leaking from the pipes that Simon hooked up to the water system. There is a spreadsheet of worker's schedules to be updated. It is one of my least favorite parts of the job, this kind of admin stuff, but it is a necessary evil.

I blink my eyes a few times as I stare at my laptop screen and groan when I see the time. I better hurry up with finishing up these new supply orders if I don't want to end up sleeping in my office chair tonight.

I don't know why I am so annoyed, it is business as usual at my construction site by the Mirror Lake. But it's like my skin feels too tight for my body and my rib cage is squeezing around my lungs making it too hard to suck in air.

The knock on my trailer door interrupts me from the paperwork and restlessness. It's past five o'clock, everyone should have left already.

"Come in."

The metal door opens slowly and I take in the young man in front of me and his pale skin now flushed pink around his cheeks. I should have known it's going to be him.

"It's five o'clock." He says timidly.

"I know." I return to my orders avoiding his tired eyes. He looks exhausted and dishevelled. Good–this is how it's going to be here if he wants to earn a living.

"Um... Can I go home?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

He mutters a curse under his breath. "I would call my uncle to pick me up but I forgot to ask for his number, I just got a new phone."

I'm silent for a few seconds too long, just long enough that he starts squirming in his spot in front of my desk, uncomfortable with the silence and tired legs. He really wants to go home now but he can't get there without me.

"I can drop you off," I finally answer and motion to the chair. "You'll have to wait, I need to finish this paperwork."

He doesn't say anything but slumps down in a plastic chair and takes off his hard hat and puts it in his lap. His dark hair is cut short on the sides but the longer strains on top are now left a little wild and rumpled, almost like someone pulled on it. I instantly drop my gaze to my paperwork when I realize that the sight of it made my dick twitch. He looks stupidly good for someone who spent the whole day doing hard labor on a construction site.

From the moment I laid my eyes on Noah Summerville my body was acting treacherous. And I don't mean this morning in the town office.

Last Friday, after picking up a package from the post office I saw him walking out of the department store on Main Street. I did a double take, I couldn't believe what I was seeing and in that moment the world felt like it was in slow motion.

His hair was much longer that day, midnight black. It looked like he didn't brush it before leaving the house. His nose slightly pointed, his lips a sexy bow shape, but full and pretty. I noticed how young he was, too young for me, but god, I wanted him.

He was wearing tight black jeans with holes on his knees, a ratty pair of Converse and a well worn hooded sweatshirt. Despite the obvious bags under his eyes, his skin was radiant. I couldn't help noticing the way he shivered in the wind. Although we still had mild temperatures for this time of year, the winter was fast approaching and the cold wind from the north demanded thick coats and hats, especially in the early mornings and nights.

Then I saw the look on his face. Like he didn't want to be here.

Instead of ignoring him, switching the ignition on and driving off, I just sat in my car and continued looking. Like he had a pull over me, I just stared with curiosity and couldn't believe that a pretty thing like him existed somewhere in this world. Something about him just did it for me. Who was he? Then I saw Paul and Adel Summerville next to him with some shopping bags, and I connected the dots.

This is a small town and whether you like it or not, you will know other people's business. Just going to the grocery store or hanging out with Janet at the reception desk of our firm for five minutes and somebody will strike up a conversation about anything and anyone that is a little bit out of the ordinary.

After six years living in Wake Forest, Alaska I learnt that Paul Summerville had a younger brother, none other than the famous San Francisco 49ers quarterback, who passed away a while ago. I was around twenty years old when the tragedy happened– my old man was watching the game on TV. Breaking news followed, showing pictures of Patrick Summerville whose freak accident left him dead on the field. Some saying heart attack, others severe concussion. They talked about the wife and a son he left behind. This must've been the son, he had his father's looks.

I left the parking spot with a strange feeling in my gut. And a feeling that I desperately need to get laid. It's been too long anyway and it seems like it's long overdue if I'm suddenly lusting over some guy I saw on the streets.

I thought that would be the last of him, he would go back to wherever he came from, and I would forget about him as soon as I found someone for a quick fuck. I imagined he was only visiting his family for a few days.

The air seemed to stall in my lungs when I saw him in the office this morning. I managed to keep my composure but he left me confused and with too many questions. Why is he looking for work in Alaska? Wasn't he supposed to have money from his father's inheritance or something?

I shake myself because it's none of my concern. I didn't want to know the reason for him coming here. He's nothing else than another seasonal worker and there is no need for me to dig deep to find sympathy for him. It pissed me off that he showed up so late, just before the winter when the conditions would get harder and risks of injury were much higher if you've never done this job before.

It pissed me even more that he made me feel like this. I was never like this about any man. Especially not after everything that happened. I can't get distracted like that. I was here to do my job, not to get caught up in any fresh eye candy. Besides, I have to remember that getting close to any man is out of the question. It is reminding me a little too much of Tom and I don't need similar drama in my life.

"Do you have a car?" I break the silence.

"No, not yet. Uncle Paul is trying to find me one. I was planning on getting a taxi to and from work until then."

"He won't find you a car any time soon."

"What do you mean?"

"The prices of cars here are very high. They go up because of the added cost of transportation and storage of fuel. It's double the gas price in Anchorage, three times as much as the Lower Forty-Eight."

Noah frowns. "Lower Forty-Eight?"

"The rest of the USA. On top of that, every vehicle costs thousands to get here, on top of what they cost to buy. A lot of people around here have old cars that they just take good care of so they last."

"Oh. I really don't want my uncle to spend that much money on it."

I am silent while I finish writing down the order, but there is a tug in the vicinity of my chest that I can't explain. A lot of my behavior from today I can't explain.

"I have an old company truck that I used before." The words are out before I considered how wise they are. "It might need some oil change, and the heating is not working but it's still driving. Want to pick it up tonight?"

I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me and why I offered. But something about the way his face crumbled when he realized that his uncle would spend money on him made me suggest it. Something like despair on Noah's face and the discomfort was too much to ignore. He's thinking too hard about this but finally, he mumbles.

"Um, if you are sure."

"You've got a driving license?"

"You really don't trust me?" He glares at me, only it doesn't have the desired effect. It only makes his eyes burn brighter and his lips purse in a way that made them look so damn kissable. I just found out there's another side of him. He's not just a timid scaredy cat, there are claws there.

"Let's go." I close my laptop and head for the door without answering him. The less I talk to him the less likely I will find out more about him. I don't need to know him.

It would be dishonest to say the idea of getting close to people, anybody, a colleague, a neighbor, a casual friend, a romantic partner, no matter how great they were, sounded worse than pulling teeth because I knew what happened when you let your guard down.

And it would be utterly untrue if I said I didn't erect impenetrable walls around myself any time anyone tried to get close to me, yet those same walls seem to have vanished into thin air the moment I quite literally just saw Noah on the street.

I have to make this quick and not be in his presence anymore. Strictly business.

The drive to my house is not too far, maybe around ten minutes. The woods here are thicker and the road is more narrow. I imagine it covered in snow in a few weeks, or months if we're lucky and silently wonder how our new resident of Wake Forest is going to deal with the harsh winter conditions. I won't bother to explain it all to him. Someone else would have to keep him alive until spring because this guy is an icicle waiting to happen.

Finally, we pull onto the road that leads to my house on a flat patch of land. The lighting I installed does a good job of illuminating the whole area and I catch a glimpse of his face.

"Is this where you live?"

"Yup."

"It's... beautiful here. Very secluded."

And that was intentional. I'm not a people person at the best of times and when I was looking for a place to start my life over, this little piece of land just came up for sale at a price that I could afford with the money I was left when my late mother's small business was sold. But it looked more like I was trying to escape by finding a place hidden like this. Maybe I was.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slide out of the truck, meeting him around the front and walk towards the other old truck that's parked just in front of the garage.

"The key is inside," I motion for him to get in. He looks confused for a moment but then gets in and starts the car. There's a light in his eyes when the engine roars in the dead silence of the woods surrounding us. Has he never owned a car?

"The heating wasn't working last time I was driving it, so you might want to fix that before the big freeze. Change the oil. Tyres should be good for the winter." I say just before I'm about to close the car door and let him drive off. His eyes dart at me, then at my house. Does he think I'm going to invite him in?

"Thank you... Dylan." He says in a voice barely above a whisper, like they are the hardest words he ever had to say. "I'll return it as soon as I find another car."

"Like I said, it's expensive to buy or rent a car in Alaska. If Paul doesn't find something cheap just keep driving that one."

He nods. "I won't be here for long anyway. I'll return your truck."

There's a bit of information that I needed to hear. He's not here to stay and that is the way it should be. I stand there for a long moment, watching him drive off. Finally, I turn and head inside, glad to be left alone. Just how I like it.

_______