Rhett grabbed his belt from the hook and looped it through his jeans, finally stopping their descent toward indecency. He grabbed a shirt from the laundry pile and yanked it over his head, and I told myself that was for the better. I could focus better if I couldn’t see the thick muscles of his chest. Still, I felt an irrational surge of disappointment as his abs disappeared from view.
“Earth to Troy,” Rhett said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You with me? We’re gonna be late if we don’t hustle.”
I blinked and shook off the lustful daydreams. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime for you,” he teased, grabbing his own travel mug and filling it.
“Fuck you,” I laughed, the familiar banter helping me settle back into our normal rhythm. This was fine. I was fine. Just because I’d noticed my roommate was hot didn’t mean anything. Most of the guys I worked with were sexy as hell. And I didn’t suck all of their dicks, just the ones who wouldn’t expect me to be their boyfriend the next day. And if Rhett was straight, he definitely would have been the boyfriend type. “We need to head out. Captain’s gonna have our asses if we’re late again.”
“Speaking of asses,” Rhett said, dropping his voice as he leaned against the counter, “you think Aimee’s still pissed at us?”
The mention of Aimee brought back the memory of last night—her standing in her doorway, fury radiating off her as we stood dripping water on her hardwood floors, sink cradled between us like some bizarre offering.
“Oh, she’s definitely still pissed.” I picked up my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder. “We cockblocked her for the third time in two weeks.”
Rhett sighed, pushing a hand through his light brown hair. “We were trying to help.”
“Were we, though?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or were we being overprotective assholes who don’t know how to respect boundaries?”
He had the good grace to look sheepish. “Little of column A, little of column B?”
“Try all of column B with a side of ‘we fucked up.’” I zipped up my bag with more force than necessary. “We gotta control our urge to butt into her life, man. She’s a grown-ass woman and she’s gonna shut us out if we keep trampling her boundaries.” I knew what it felt like to be crowded out of your own life. Even growing up in a five-bedroom house, ten kids meant nobody got a say in much of anything.
“I know, I know.” Rhett grabbed his keys from the bowl by the door, then froze with his hand on the doorknob. He pressed his eye to the peephole, and I let myself admire the way his ass curved in those jeans as he bent a little to see better.
Shit, was checking out my roommate’s ass a boundary issue, too? I was an asshole. I cleared my throat, not sure I wanted the answer to that. Rhett was straight, but he was an attention whore and didn’t mind flaunting his body to anyone who would look.
“What are you doing?”
“Ryker asked us to look out for her. How are we supposed to do that if we can’t talk to her?”
“You spying on her door right now?”
“Just checking if she’s heading out,” he protested, still peering through the tiny lens like some kind of stalker. “I don’t see her.”
“Rhett.”
“She doesn’t want to see us! I’m just making sure we don’t accidentally bump into her. It’s all in the name of boundaries. Still, how do we know she’s doing okay if we don’t check in on her?”
I rolled my eyes and reached into my bag, pulling out a small notepad with the Denver Fire Department logo on it. “How about this?” I held up the pad, shaking it for emphasis. “We’ll leave friendly notes, nothing pushy, just letting her know we still care. The old-fashioned way. I don’t think that crosses any boundaries.” Did it? Growing up one of ten kids, I’d learned early that if you wanted to be heard, you left a note on the fridge.It was the only way to make sure your message didn’t get lost in the noise.
“Right. So, flowers?”
“No, we need to keep it simple. I think notes are perfect. We let her know we’re there for her, but she’s not obligated to respond.” The more I thought about it, the more this seemed perfect for the boundary issue.
“That’s not a bad idea, T. I bet Aimee’s the kind of girl who loves a good note. She can collect them and put them in her scrapbook.”
“Since when does Aimee scrapbook?”
“She will once she gets our amazing notes. She’ll save them to tell the story to our children. Who knew you were so brilliant?”
“Your children. I’m starting to suspect you haven’t learned anything,” I said. “What should we write? ‘Sorry we ruined your date and your bathroom, please don’t hate us’?”
“Maybe something about her podcast? So she knows we’re fans,” Rhett said.
“I don’t know, after the one guy mentioned her being a slut, is that the best plan?”
“What about saying we like listening to her sexy voice?” Rhett bit his bottom lip as his cheeks went pink. I wanted to point out that I also had a sexy voice, but that probably wasn’t the ideal thing to say in this moment.
