His gaze goes soft and drops, settling on my lips.
“Mom, can I have some ice cream?” Jake yells, leaning through the sliding glass door.
The moment is gone in a gust of wind and poor timing. I take a step back and see my disappointment mirrored in Miles’s expression.
“Go ahead. Just show some restraint, all right?” I call as Jake disappears inside.
“Yes, ma’am,” is echoed between the men on either side of me.
TWELVE
Miles
“Where the hell were you all weekend? You never got back to me.”
The smell of stale beer overlaid with Chance’s cologne burns my nose. It seems like more and more often, he’s showing up at work with the weekend’s bad decisions trailing behind him.
I push a bottle of water in his direction and dig through my drawer for some ibuprofen.
“I was helping a friend with some renovations.” It’s close enough to the truth.
“A friend? What fucking friend is doing house shit and needs your help?” Chance shakes four, maybe five, pills into his palm and washes them down before slumping into the chair across from me. He sets the water bottle on the floor and crosses his arms over his chest. Most likely to hide the way his hands are shaking.
A beat passes, drawing into a full minute, before he lifts his head and fully focuses on me. “That chick, the SOS call Erin goton Friday from her friend. She didn’t send Blake in to help, did she?”
My fingers still, hovering above my keyboard. Not that I was actually typing anything of importance, just responding to an email from Aly’s lawyer. I shake off his stare. “Blake didn’t need to drop what he was doing for everyone. Wasn’t a big deal to step in and help her out.” I tap the delete button a handful of times and try to think of a stronger way to ask when I actually need to show my face in California.
“Her? Her who? Erin or one of her friends? You got an in with the wives, man? Providing services while their husbands are gone?” A slick look settles on his face.
“Not funny,” I say. Yeah, there’s a teasing tone, but that’s not my thing. Never has been, and sure as fuck is never going to be. Cheating, lying, deception, and avoidance are hard fucking limits. “There’s no spouse. You remember that chick who passed out in line at the convenience store when we were out, grabbing lunch, a couple of weeks ago? Turns out, she’s Tyler’s math teacher. Erin went to school to hash out Tyler’s shitty math grade and brought home a new friend.”
“Sleeping Beauty?”
“Snow White, man. Get your Disney shit straight. But, yeah, that’s her. She had a pipe burst, so I fixed her shower, patched some drywall. No big, just giving her a hand.”
“Just a hand?” He scrapes his palm across his three-day stubble, the skin on his wrist shiny with fresh ink.
I shake my head, not wanting to get into this with him. Of course, Chance takes it up a notch, sticking his tongue out between his fingers.
“Shoplifting the pootie? Tapping the single mom? Clark, that is not like you.” He laughs, standing to hopefully walk away. “You’re going to have to give up your cape, lose the hero shit.Now that you hit it, man, you have got to quit it. Take a field assignment and get the fuck out of town.”
“Right,” I say, shaking my head.
I love the guy, but sometimes, I just want to smack the shit out of him. Beat some sense into him. Not because what he’s saying is wrong. It’s just not even close to what went down, and he should fucking know that’s not me.
“Shut up, asshole. I replaced a valve, changed her fucking showerhead, and almost had to take her for stitches after she fell and split her knee open.”
As the words spill from my mouth, I know—I just know—he’s going to latch on to the comment about roughing up her knees. But, no… Nope, that’s not what he goes with.
“Wait, wait, wait, hold up.” Heads turn all through the cubicle farm because when Chance is on a roll, people can’t help but pay attention. “What kind of showerhead?”
“A nice one. Sleek, clean, modern, brushed nickel. Rainfall?—”
“Kiss of death, man. You done fucked up,” he says, laughing.
Don’t get me wrong; the dude needs to laugh more, but I’d preferwithme as opposed toatme.
“And you replaced what? Her handheld with the different settings, the pulsing action? Poor girl just lost her best friend, and I’m guessing you didn’t even properly console her.”
