Which means we’re in deep doo-doo, because if I liked it, everyone who watched it is going to like it—or even love it. Which also means they will come. The single people. And the lonely people. And probably some not-so-nice people.
All of them will come.
CHAPTERTWELVE
LOU
“Why won’t you fit?”I’ve been finagling a piece of trim in an attempt to get it back where it came from. Turning it over in my hand, I make sure I’ve got the right piece for this spot. I always label trim that I remove to make sure it goes back where it came from, but this thing isn’t budging. I hold it above the spot it’s supposed to go and frown. “I know this is right.” Pressing it down, I grit my teeth because it will not go in. “You idiot,” I say to myself. “Get your shit together, Lou.”
“A little harsh, wouldn’t you say?”
I’m startled, which causes me to release the piece of trim with my right hand and swing with my left.
Am I sorry I slapped the guy with trim?
Not so much.
“Jesus,” I say, panting. Pulling off my headphones, I look over at him as he rubs his left cheek. That’s going to leave a mark, for sure. “You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.”
“I do.” He winces when his hand touches an area near his eye. “I’m sorry. I thought you heard me.”
I point to the headphones that are now around my neck. “I wear these to keep the noise down. I can’t hear a thing.”
“You were talking.”
I blink at him. I’m not sure I should say this but what the hell. “I talk to myself.” I shrug because whodoesn’ttalk to themselves? If you meet someone and they tell you they “never talk to themselves,” they’re lying.
I lean in a little bit to get a closer look at his cheek. “You may need something for that.” I point. “There’s a scratch.”
He pulls his hand away and looks. “Am I bleeding?” I step closer and push up onto my tiptoes. Reaching out, I touch his face gently. “A little, but you’ll survive.” I turn and make my way over to one of my toolboxes. Bending, I sift through it, looking for the first aid kit that Bella gave me when I first started this job. Finding it, I turn and catch him staring at me. Well, my ass, but I ignore it because he was probably curious about what I was doing. “Here.” I toss it to him. “There’s some antibiotic ointment in there.” At least I think there is. I may have used it.
I watch him search but to no avail. “Give it.” I take the red bag and sift through it. Holding up the small packet, I smile. “Found it.”
Handing it to him, he tears it open and squeezes some out onto his finger. When he attempts to put it on his wound, he missed it by a few inches. “Let me,” I say as I take his hand in mine and direct his finger to the right spot. And before you ask, yes, I felt tingles when I touched him, but it’s probably because I haven’t touched a man in, well, years.
Okay, not years. Twenty-two months. Or thereabouts. That’s the last time I fell into bed with someone. Unfortunately, it was someone from town. I’d gotten drunk at Brother’s with Bella, who was pressuring me to get laid and, well, one too many beers and a shot or two of Tequila led to some very bad decisions. Since then, I’ve stayed far, far away from the ice cream shop, which saddens me to no end, because I love ice cream.
Apparently, Alan Allen, owner of Allen’s Frozen Sweet Treats, is also a fan. He spent the hour I was at his place chasing me around with a spoonful of Rocky Road because he wanted to lick it off my stomach. (And other places.)
I mean. I’m not opposed to having food licked off me or vice versa. It was the Rocky Road at issue. Vanilla, yes. Chocolate ice cream filled with nuts and marshmallows? Not so much, because marshmallows are, well, they’re gross.
“Thanks,” Chase says as he looks for somewhere to discard the antibiotic pouch.
Holding my hand out, he places it in my palm. I toss it behind me which makes him laugh. “I’ll get it when I sweep up this room.”
“What are you working on today?”
It’s only been two days since our “date.” Honestly, I’m surprised to see him. I figured he’d left town. “You’re still here?”
“I am.”
“Why?”
Chase chuckles. “To get the shit beat out of me, apparently.” He touches his face again.
“I’m sorry about that, but you can’t sneak up on me.”
“Lesson learned.” He smirks. “Twice.”
