22
I ring the buzzer of the walk-up on 18th Street, craning my neck to get a glimpse of the third floor.
A flower planter hangs from the window as promised—a cheery green one, bursting with tiger lilies. Fall flowers, Josie told me.
I manage a smile, thinking of the woman my brother loves. Chase and Josie have re-moved in together. They found a new pad in Chelsea, and they’re having a mini housewarming party with the gang.
Mia suggested I bring a bottle of wine and a kickass new Scrabble dictionary, so that’s what I’ve got in hand. As I wait, I glance behind me at the tree-lined block. A twenty-something brunette in sunglasses walks a pug down the street, and for a brief second, I imagine Henley.
I jerk my head away.
Somehow, I’ve managed to work with her for the last week since Bubble-Bath-Nipplegate.
It hasn’t been easy, but we’ve pulled it off, mostly by taking turns on the Lambo. It’s been living in my shop since I have more room. In the last week of working on the car, the network shot a few promos, including one with the actor Brick Wilson, as well as Henley and me. The buffer of Brick made it easier to deal with her.
When the buzzer sounds, I let thoughts of the show go as I head into Chase’s building. I walk up two flights of steps to a long hallway on the third floor. My little brother stands in the doorway. Growing up, he was the happiest fella in the world, and that’s even truer now that he and Josie are officially an item. His hazel eyes shine.
“Glad you could make it. I thought I’d have to surgically remove you from a Ferrari or an Aston Martin to get you here,” he says, then claps me on the back. “You’ve been working hard?”
“Is there any other kind of work?”
Chase pretends to stare at the ceiling. “Nope.” He gestures me into his and Josie’s new digs. I’ve seen his place once before, and it’s perfect for them—a one-bedroom with exposed brick walls and lots of light. On the wall by the door is a framed cartoon drawing of a cat in an apron serving cupcakes to a small dog. It has Nick Hammer’s style all over it. I suspect the cartoonist drew it for his sister, and the signature in the corner confirms that. Nick is parked on the couch with his wife, Harper, next to him. They wave hello, and I say hi. On the coffee table in the living room, a huge bouquet of daisies spills over the edge of a vase, and a Scrabble board sits next to it. I spot Wyatt and Natalie in the kitchen, leaning into the fridge.
“Max!” Josie rushes over and throws her arms around me. “So good to see you. How did the monkey bread go over?”
“Great,” I say, then look around, eager to move to a new topic.
She narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s amazing. Who doesn’t love monkey bread?”
Chase gives me a studious stare as he taps his head. “Monkey bread? Hmm. Wait, I’ve got it.” He snaps his fingers. “You bought monkey bread for Henley.”
I scoff. Josie laughs.
“Did he?” Chase asks Josie.
She shrugs. “He didn’t tell me who he bought it for. He just said it was a gift for a girl, and I said if she liked the monkey bread, then next time he should get her cinnamon rolls.”
“Ooh, get me cinnamon rolls, pretty please.”
The comment comes from Spencer, who had bounded up the steps with his wife, Charlotte, to join us in the entryway. “I love cinnamon rolls. Please say they’re for me.”
“Are you a girl?” Nick tosses out from the couch to his best buddy.
Spencer’s eyes drift downward. “Nope. But men can like cinnamon rolls.”
Nick rolls his eyes from behind his glasses. “She said he was getting them for a girl, dickhead. That’s why I said it.”
“Who is Max buying cinnamon rolls for?” Harper calls out from her spot next to Nick.
“Yes, inquiring minds want to know,” Charlotte chimes in.
I grit my teeth and shove past them into the kitchen, setting down the wine and the wrapped gift.
“Ooh, Maxi-boy likes someone,” Wyatt says as he strides through the kitchen, holding a beer.
“How about we talk about Chase and Josie’s new apartment, not who I bought fucking baked goods for,” I say.
The women all laugh. “Max,” Josie says softly, setting her hand on my back as the others wander into the living room, “if you ever need girl advice, just ask me. Don’t worry about these wieners. I’ll help you. I adore you.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
She tugs me aside, pulling me near the fridge and as out of earshot as possible. “Seriously. Are you okay? You’re grouchy, and I know you’ve got a natural grouch in you, but you seem grouchier than usual.”
“He hasn’t gotten laid in a while, probably,” Chase says as he walks by.
Josie shoots him a shut up now stare.
“What? He alluded to it on the bike ride the other day,” Chase says, and he’s right. Not that I blabber about my sex life to him, but when we were riding one morning, he made a comment about a hot woman who rode past us, saying I should chase her, and I said it had been a while.
“Is it Henley?” Josie asks.
I don’t say anything. My silence is my yes.
“You like her?”
“No, I don’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t like her at all. Not one bit.”
Josie gives me a smile then brushes a strand of pink-tipped hair off her neck. “Got it. But if you were to like her, she probably likes you, too.”
I snap my head to stare at her. “Why would you say that?”
“I saw one of the web promos for the car you’re building for the detective show. The one with you, Brick, and Henley. I could see it in her eyes.”
Henley’s chocolate-brown eyes with flecks of gold. Her eyes that are like a color wheel for her emotions. They darken when she’s angry; they lighten when she’s vulnerable.
Josie moves to take a plate of appetizers to the living room, while Chase grips my shoulder. “Dude, she’s right. You’re like Captain Grouchy Pants.”
I look away, glancing at the thermostat on the wall. I put my hand on it, sliding up the needle. “Hey Chase, since this a housewarming party, can I just turn up the heat and call it good?”
A slow clap sounds from the couch. Spencer applauds me with a proud shine in his eyes. “Well done. I doff my pun hat to you.”
“Glad I could entertain you.”
That’s how I know I’m not really affected by Henley. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to make jokes. I wouldn’t enjoy the meal. I wouldn’t have fun with my friends.
I do all of those things, thank you very much. There’s not an ounce of grouch in me.
I can’t say the same for Henley the next time I see her.