Still, as funny as Joss is, I’ve gotta escape this conversation before I need to soak my eardrums in Lysol.
I back away, aware of his gaze flicking to me. His attention isn’t as comforting as it was upstairs. Not until our eyes meet and for some dumbfuck reason, his smile seems like he’s dug a new one out just for me.
Whoa. Okay. That is serious energy for my hetero brain. Unbidden, my mind darts to the handful of times Joss has touched me since we met. Of how it felt. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, but I already know that something about him is different.
Something I’m not adverse to, but I’ve never fuckin’ thought about.
Am I catching feelings for this guy? Or am I so out of my damn mind I’ve forgotten that I’ve never looked at another dude’s dick and wanted it?
It’s a lot to contemplate, and I make my escape to drown it out with manual labor.
The pipes take less time than I anticipate. I lay new tiles in the spots I’d left bare for a final layout decision and paint the ceiling. It’s midafternoon when I realize the bar is about to open and no one has bothered me all day.
I poke my head out of the kitchen.
Tanner is crouched on the floor counting bottles. “I was about to come find you.”
“You need something?”
He rises and sticks his pen behind his ear. “Joss will be back soon. He’s gonna cook some test dishes if that’s okay with you?’
“Me?”
“Are you ready for us to mess up your baby?”
“Hey, it’s your kitchen. I’m just the fuckin’ help.”
“Don’t do yourself like that. Joss already told me it’s the best-designed space he’s had to work with in years.”
He’s said as much to me as well, but hearing it through Tanner feels good.Toogood. The thoughts I’ve pushed aside reignite and an exasperated sound escapes me.
Tanner isn’t psychic. He thinks I’m growling at him and raises a dark brow. I should back up, but I can’t. I haven’t answered his question. “It’s all good to go. I fixed the pipes so the dishwasher can be installed tomorrow, but the sink and the faucet work just fine. I even put dish soap in the pumps.”
“That’s great. Thank you. I’m hoping he’ll be back soon. He’s been gone a while.”
“Where did he go?”
Tanner shrugs. “I lent him my car and told him to have a drive around some of the suppliers on Harrison’s list, so I know he went up to Finn’s place. Beyond that, I have no clue, and his phone isn’t connecting when I call.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think he’s switched to an international plan.”
I nod. It makes sense. But the idea of Joss out there alone in the heap of shit Jeep Tanner bought last winter, driving on unfamiliar roads, is fuckin’ nauseating. I hate cars. Always have, even before one exploded in my face. I’d walk to the moon if I could.
“Are you making that face because of your unwarranted hate for my car?”
“What face?”
“Your constipated face.”
Man, it must be bad if Tanner’s giving me shit. “I don’t hate your car.”
“Liar.”
Yup. But we’ve had this conversation a thousand times. He’s as bored with it as I am. Only reason I can see for having it again is to avoid admitting that I want Joss to come back already. But we’re both saved by Molly unlocking the doors, and if there’s one thing guaranteed to send me scuttling away, it’s an influx of bougie wine drinkers.
I retreat to the kitchen and make myself busy clearing my tools and drop cloths out of Joss’s way. I vacuum the fine layer of construction dust from every surface and check the hot water faucet for the eleventieth time.It all works. Leave it alone. At this point, it would make more sense to go upstairs and write Tanner the bill he’s expecting, but I find more pointless shit to do instead while clock watching and pondering why the hell I’m doing it.
