Dressing and fresh vegetables garbled his words and made him feel uncouth, a term he was sure had already entered Heath’s brain a time or twenty while talking to him.
“I’m still sorry. For what I said, and for your loss.”
He nodded, but kept his mouth busy cleaning every trace offood from the container. After tossing it into the bin, he moved to the sink and washed the few dishes left behind from the morning. He didn’t realize he’d crawled into that space in his brain, the one that kept the past and present separate, until Heath chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“If I weren’t watching it happen, I’d never have believed you did dishes.”
Evan felt his mood turn and his core temperature return to normal. “I think your version of my life is a lot grander than reality.”
“So you’re not living in a beautifully restored, fully staffed townhouse on Beacon Street and driving an R8?”
He stopped scrubbing and shook his head with a huffed laugh. Goddamn this guy. “It’s an RS7. I do not have staff, and I’m not on Beacon Street.”
“But you’re close, aren’t you?” Heath grabbed a towel and started drying the dishes he’d placed on the mat beside the sink. It was so stupidly simple and domestic. Why was he enjoying it?
“There are several blocks between me and Beacon.”
He held out the last plate and Heath took it, their fingers brushing in the process. It was exactly the move he’d pulled on Hannah—on more than one woman during his lifetime—but this was the first time he understood why they sparkled like Twilight vampires afterward.
Have you lost your fucking mind?
“Defineseveral.”
Evan sucked in his lips and looked at the floor. “A few.”
“A few?” Heath shoved the plate in with its friends on the wooden shelf above the counter and crossed his arms. “My God. You actually live on Beacon Hill?”
“For now.”
The truth was, he couldn’t picture living in the house he’d shared with Lucy after the trip was over. He loved the place; itwas historical and amazing, but it was alsotheirs,and there was notheyanymore. There was just him, and if he was starting from scratch, he was going scorched earth.
“I’m sure the traffic there is terrible, especially in the summer. You’d be much better off in Back Bay, or one of those swank new places in the Seaport.”
Evan ran his fingers through the wild waves of his hair. “Yeah, maybe.”
Heath sucked his teeth and retrieved the tea concoction from the freezer. “This is something my mother did for me as a kid when I’d overdo it outside.”
Heath’s tan was darker than some of the people who lived on the island year-round, and he’d only been there a few days. “What does it take for you to burn?”
Heath gave him a small smile. “I learned the hard way that liberal application of SPF is your friend.”
Evan gestured toward his torso. “Look at me. Do you think I went outside without any? I just forgot to reapply.”
“And now you’ll have to keep your clothes on. How will you ever lure all the women back here now?”
“I didn’t realize this was an open relationship.”
Heath snorted, his cheeks flushing pink as he grabbed a clean dishtowel and submerged it in the brew.
“Is that really what you think I’m about?” He wanted to know, but also didn’t.
Heath hadn’t been wrong; his first impression had been shit. He’d told himself he didn’t care, because Heath was just some guy sitting next to him on a plane, but maybe that wasn’t so true. Maybe this was a PBS lesson about never knowing where a chance meeting might take you.
“I’m sure you also eat babies for breakfast, or something equally lawyerish.”
He laughed, both relieved and disappointed he hadn’t answered the question.
