“I’m just saying, you did good.” I scrape at the edge of a tile, the tiniest bump of grout that she missed when she wiped it down. “Better than I would have guessed.” She scoffs, but I plow forward with a cheeky smile of my own and a wink. “I mean, you didn’t shut off the main water valve when you had water pouring through your ceiling. Why wouldn’t I be impressed with your tiling job?”
I move around the counter and rinse my plate, setting it in the dishwasher. I could totally eat another full helping, but then I’d need to take a nap, and the shower would never get fixed.
Chloe swats at me as I step around her and asks, “What can I do to help?”
There’s enough distraction, just being around Chloe, so I don’t need to add to it with having her watch me work.
“Not a thing. Tomorrow, when we dig into the drywall repair, I might need you, but I should be good for now.”
I work solo for a bit, music pumping through my earbuds as I swap out the pipe, install a new valve, and replace the old handheld showerhead with a much nicer rainfall fixture. Thesleek design looks so much classier and more finished than what she had before.
I open the valves, check for leaks, and gather up my tools. I grab the trash, making sure not to leak water from the hose, and quickly jog down the stairs.
“All set. You want to check out your new shower?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows.
Flirty. Yep, without a doubt, but the last things I expect are the bright red blush and wide eyes when Chloe sees her old showerhead in my hand.
“What did you…” Her gaze bounces from mine to the trash in my hand and back again. She looks absolutely pissed. Or is that embarrassment?
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have checked with you first. I just thought while I was at it, I’d swap out your old fixture for something new. The other night, you said you were updating, and… Jesus, I totally overstepped this.” I did, obviously, but her reaction to the whole thing seems a little off—kind of over the top.
Chloe drops her head into her hands and blows out a very controlled breath. But she doesn’t say a word.
“Listen, I shouldn’t have messed with your shower. I’m sorry. I’ll change them up tomorrow, put the original back.”
“No, it’s fine. It was on my list of things to do eventually. It just… I was surprised,” she says.
“Fine,” I mumble.Fineis almost always decidedly not fine. In my world, it usually stands forfreaked out,insecure,neurotic,andemotional.
Chloe starts to chuckle, the sound bubbling out of her, and I start to think maybe the acronym is spot-on today.
“I’m well aware of what you’re thinking, and I have every right to all the things thatfineencompasses. Let me see the new one.” She runs up the stairs, her footsteps pausing overhead andthen tapping lightly back down the stairs. She clears her throat as she steps back into the kitchen. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
She takes the old one from me and tosses it in the trash with a smile on her face that, for the life of me, I can’t interpret. It’s some abstract combination of happy and shy, maybe holding a little bit of secret in it as well.
“Another beer?” she asks.
My beard rasps against my palm as I scrape my hand down my face. I am well and truly fucking perplexed. “It’s probably best if I just take off for the night. Get back to it in the morning.” I don’t know where I went wrong or even if I’ve fucked up, but now, I’m even second-guessing drywall. The fucking drywall.
“Please don’t, Miles. I’m so—shit.” She catches herself before the full apology tumbles from her lips. “I’m struggling here. I suck at asking for help, and evidently, I’m just awkward as can be today. Or maybe not just today. Maybe it’s more often than I realize.”
NINE
Chloe
I wonder if the earth could just open up already and swallow me whole. Could I possibly be so lucky?
“I stupidly freaked out over every single thing with the bathroom last night. My guilt-ridden, sex-starved brain turned everything Miles said, asked, or did into an over-the-top innuendo. I’m totally channeling my inner twelve-year-old boy,” I tell Kate as I hit the button to open the garage door.
I don’t know what time Miles is going to come. Come over. Get here.Jesus.
I obviously need more coffee. I pad back into the kitchen and pour myself another cup, groaning at the realization that Jake—my sweet, innocent baby boy—is just a year shy of this stage. Unless twelve-year-old-boy humor is the new eleven-year-old-boy humor.
“You don’t think Jake knows about sex, do you? God, I need to havethe talkwith him. Fuck me,” I whisper-shout into the phone.
Because my luck, timing, and Karma are all out to get me, the door from the garage opens, the doorway filled with a broad, bearded, muscled man. And to make matters worse, it’s Jack’s voice that echoes through my phone’s speaker.
“Want me to do it? If I screw it up with your kid, I should be able to adjust discussion points by the time I need to talk to my boys about dicks and chicks. You’re on speakerphone, by the way.”
