Chapter
Twenty-One
Another three days went by. I expected to be finished with Blake in the next twenty-four hours. Not because I wanted to be done, but because I had to be done. Our client list was piling up, and Lex said if he had to kiss one more chick who tried to impale the back of his throat with her tongue, he was going to quit.
It was Saturday.
And David hadn’t stopped calling or randomly dropping by to check the plumbing. Right. Good one, genius.
Hey can I look at your pipes?
What for?
To make sure they’re clean of shit?
Some dudes really didn’t know what the hell they were doing. At least come up with a good excuse the third time you drop by. I don’t know, give yourself a flat tire, ask to use the phone, tell her you’re dehydrated after your ten-mile run and need water.
But pipes?
Again?
She was going to be so bored with him. I knew it, and I hoped she was beginning to see it, but I had a promise to keep and a contract to shred once my job was done.
Then, and only then, would I sit back, let him crash and burn, then I’d swoop in and . . .
I hadn’t really gotten to that part yet, ever.
I pulled up to Gabi and Blake’s house and grabbed the snacks for our early spring barbecue out of the backseat. It was warm for March, around sixty-two degrees, meaning we wanted any excuse to be outside.
The door was already open when I glanced back at the house. A sexy-looking Blake was standing in the middle of the doorway, part of her stomach showing, compliments of her short white tank top and low-rise boyfriend jeans.
“Nice,” I called out as I made my way toward her. “I like.”
She turned in front of me, then blew me a kiss. “Good, because I haven’t worn them in forever.”
I walked past her and into the house, then she followed.
Out of nowhere, her smile fell and her eyes pooled with tears. Frowning, I dropped the groceries on the counter.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I gripped her face with my hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s, uh . . .” She gulped as a few tears splashed onto her cheeks. “He died two years ago today.”
“Shit.” I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to hers. Then, without asking, I lifted her into my arms and hugged her.
Blake wrapped her arms around my neck in her typical choking fashion, but I didn’t care. Hold me tighter, I wanted to say. Anything to make her feel better.
She sobbed for a few seconds before her body stopped shaking.
I set her on her feet but kept our bodies close. “I’m so sorry.” I used my thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears from her puffy cheeks. “I know that doesn’t make it better. Nothing I say will make it better. But I think he’d be proud of you. I can’t imagine you growing up with some timid-assed brother who let you get away with anything.” I squeezed her tighter. “You’re an amazing woman. Funny, sweet, caring . . . There is nothing about you that I would change.” I sighed. “You know, other than some of the clothing choices I’m sure he would have encouraged to keep all the guys at bay.”
She burst out laughing. It was good to hear. Immediately, I relaxed.
“Yeah, he was . . .” She frowned. “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way.”
“I swear on guys everywhere if you say I remind you of him, you’re going to see me freak out and do something stupid.”
“As opposed to every other day?”
“Hey! I just comforted you. Now I’m stupid?”
A teasing smile lit up her face. “I wasn’t going to say you were like my brother. Just that you tend to have a lot in common. He played football and was always trying to get me to jump out of my comfort zone. Thus, the jeans. I was wearing nothing but basketball shorts, and he finally told me I needed to start dressing like a girl. Shopping. It was one of the last things we did together before he died. I’ve never even worn half the clothes. I’m sure some are out of style, but”—her lower lip trembled—“I thought maybe if I tried . . . for him, you know?”
“Listen.” I pressed a finger to her lips. “You are beautiful no matter what you wear. You could wear basketball shorts and those ugly-ass flip-flops every day of your life, and your brother would still be proud of you. I promise.”
Tears filled her eyes again. “You think?”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I’m proud of you. And I’m not easy to impress—you do know who I am, right?”
“Ian Hunter.” She said my name with reverence. God above, I wanted to be worthy of the way she said my name.
“Guys,” Gabi called from somewhere inside the house. “You just gonna stand there and eye-screw each other, or can we get the snacks?”
“Be right there,” I yelled back, never taking my eyes off Blake. “Are you going to be okay?”
The light reflected off of her tearstained face. She was . . . beautiful. So beautiful it hurt. “As long as you stay.”
“Done.”
“Good.” She reached for the bags, then blocked the door with her hand. “But I can’t let you in unless you managed to get the chocolate Gabi and I begged for.”
Sighing, I reached into one of the bags and pulled out two Hershey’s Krackel bars. “You mean this chocolate?”
Blake swiped it from my hand and inhaled. “So good.”
“Question.” I leaned in. “If it was between me and a Krackel bar—”
“Krackel bar.” She patted my shoulder. “Every time.”
“Had to ask.”
“Guys,” Gabi yelled again.
“Coming!” we said in unison, making our way back through the house.
Gabi was in the kitchen prepping the hamburgers and hot dogs.
She frowned at us. “Blake, are you okay?” Her eyes fell on me in a crabby stare.
“Yeah.” Blake touched her cheeks. “Let me just run upstairs real quick and get the mascara smudges.”
I watched her run off.
Meaning I didn’t duck and cover.
Gabi clocked me in the shoulder, then reared back like she was aiming for my face.
“What?” I stumbled back from her. “I didn’t make her cry!”
Gabi didn’t look convinced. “I told you to stay away from her!”
“And I did.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Technically.”
“Technically?”
“Shit, you have that look in your eyes again. Gabs, she likes David, I’m helping her with David. End of story.”
“Did you have sex with her?”
“I wish,” I grumbled.
Gabi frowned. “Wait, what?”
“Nothing. Hey, Lex is late—I’m going to go call him.” I turned to leave but was tugged back by the loop in my jeans.
“Speak.”
“Lex could be dead.”
“Don’t care.”
“In a very serious accident, and we’re running out of time.”
“Out with it.”
“Five seconds away from his last breath and you want me to gossip with you about my feelings?”
“Ian.”
“Lex is dead. Hope you’re happy.”
Her grip on my jeans tightened, and then she tugged up.
“Whoa there.” I jerked away from her and glanced behind me where the stairway was. “Okay, summarized version?”
She nodded and crossed her arms.
“I like her.”
Gabi nodded more and then frowned. “Wait, that’s it? That’s the declaration I get after years of watching you screw everything with a pulse? You like her?”
“Yeah.” For the first time in years, I felt myself heat with embarrassment.
“You. Like. Her.” Gabi’s voice was rising. I tried to shush her, but it was Gabi—that was like poking a grizzly. “Men are so stupid. Please tell me you didn’t confess this out loud to her like a Facebook status. I like Blake. Here’s a picture of us. Oh, cool, five hundred shares. Like we’re in freaking HIGH SCHOOL!”
“KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!” I shouted.
“There we go!” Gabi slapped me on the shoulder. “A little passion. This is the first time you’ve admitted to liking anything in years!”
“Not true,” I argued. “I adored that cute little gerbil you had.”
“The one Lex killed? That gerbil?”
“Poor Arnold.” I smirked. “Sore subject?”
“Bastard’s going to get his balls cut off one of these nights, in his sleep.”
“Don’t sneak-approach him in his bed. He may think you want something you don’t. And the last thing I need is to deal with Lex after he accidently grazes boob, only to realize it’s yours. He’ll cut off his hands, and I need his hands for my computer program and future lucrative business ideas.”
“Back!” Blake bounced down the stairs.
Gabi gave me a look that said this was far from over before slowly unwrapping one of the Krackel bars and shoving the damn thing in her mouth.
“No sharing?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Nope,” Gabi answered, mouth full of chocolate. “Get your own.”
“I bought it.”
“And we’re poor college students, so . . .” Gabi grinned.
The front door slammed. Suddenly Lex appeared from the hall holding up two giant bags of groceries. “If you ever”—he swore violently—“and I do mean ever, send me to the store to get tampons again, I’m going to have sex in your bed with a complete stranger, take selfies, blow them up to poster size, and plaster them to your ceiling.”
He dropped the bags onto the counter. A box of tampons fell out.
I smirked. “Errand boy.”
“Suck it,” Lex grumbled. “At least I know where they are. Last time Gabs sent you, you had to ask for directions, ended up hitting on the salesclerk, and never made it back to the house.”
I stole a glance at Blake’s expression. She was smiling, but it was forced, and suddenly all of my past bangs seemed more like past sins, past wrongs, something that made me less in her eyes.
“Thanks, man,” I said under my breath.
“Any time.” Lex rubbed his hands together. “Am I manning the grill, Gabs? Or did you grow a penis within the last twelve hours?”
Blake gave me a confused look.
I explained with a smirk. “Only boys can man the grill. It says so.”
“Where?” Gabi asked, pulling the giant grill spatula from the drawer and hiding it behind her back.
“On the instructions when we’re born,” I said, faking a dumbfounded expression. “It’s Life 101. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if you girls even went to elementary school.”
Lex barked out a “hah,” then stole the spatula from Gabi and marched outside with the plate of burgers and hot dogs.
“He’s such a gem, that one,” Gabi huffed out as she started pulling out all the condiments.
“A true gentleman,” I said, just as a volleyball sailed toward my head. I barely ducked in time. “What the hell?”
Blake grinned. “You down for a little game, boy?”
Staggered, I stared at her dumbly. “Did you just call me . . . ‘boy’?”
Another spike in my direction.
“That’s it.” I grabbed the ball and marched outside. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but Blake, I was in the NFL—I can play all sports.”
Lex coughed.
“Except golf.”
He coughed again.
“And I think it’s already been established that ice-skating shouldn’t count.”
Lex held up his hands, then went back to flipping burgers.
“Your serve.” I bumped the ball in Blake’s direction. “Ladies always first. I’m a gentleman on the court and in bed—lucky you.”
“Oh wow. Thanks,” Blake said sarcastically. “Let me just get comfortable.” Her top came off.
I smelled something burning.
“Lex,” I yelled. “Man the burgers. I got this!”
“Sorry.” He turned back around.
I stared at her tan, muscled skin as she stretched her arms above her head and put her hair in a high ponytail. Her jeans were still on, but hanging so low on her hips a cop should ticket her. And the plain black sports bra just . . . for some reason . . . looked hot.
Damn hot.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Clearly someone’s trying to cheat.” I pointed at her stomach.
“Oh, this?” She shrugged. “Don’t want to get sweat on my shirt. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure I do.” I peeled my shirt off and tossed it onto the ground. “I understand perfectly.”
I flexed what I’d been told on several occasions by numerous women, including a few professors, was my eight-pack.
Her eyes widened.
“Pissing match, party of two,” Lex yelled.
Gabi came running.
Oh, good—an audience.