“I’ll make sure not to be obvious about texting you. I pay my own phone bills and lock my phone so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
It hadn’t even crossed Izzy’s mind that Justin might look at Wyatt’s phone like that, but he guessed it made sense. Not that they really could do anything, because Wyatt was an adult, but…
“I won’t let him take your job away from you,” Wyatt said suddenly.
Izzy frowned. “What?”
“I won’t cause problems. If he finds out we’re in contact, he might fire you and I can’t be the reason—”
Izzy quickly cut him off. “Hey, hey, Wyatt, breathe.” Wyatt tried his best to do as told and luckily the panic didn’t escalate. “There you are.” He smiled and kissed Wyatt gently.
“I love you too, by the way,” Wyatt whispered.
“Good. I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just…” Izzy sighed.
Wyatt smiled, looking at him knowingly. “Couldn’t not say it, either?”
“Something like that.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe that this is real. I don’t care what anyone else says. They can’t see inside our heads or our hearts,” Wyatt spoke passionately, with a blaze in his eyes.
Izzy pecked his lips. “It’s worth everything, Wyatt. Everything.”
* * * *
They didn’t risk meeting for days after that. Instead, they texted during the late evenings when they were both in their respective bedrooms, alone and safe.
In some ways, Izzy thought, they got to know each other much better. There was no shyness, and they could both think what they really wanted to say in text form, much better than out loud.
Justin hadn’t calmed down at all, it seemed. Things at work, whenever Izzy crossed paths with Justin, were tense and the glares were…well, they weren’t good.
One day Patty saw Justin’s behavior up close and huffed.
“He’ll come to his senses,” she told Izzy when Justin let the break room door bang closed behind himself.
“I’m not counting on that.”
“Something will happen. Then you and Wyatt can be together again.”
Izzy didn’t ask how she knew. Everyone did, by now. Nobody seemed to think negatively about the possibility of Izzy and Wyatt being together, but they weren’t openly talking about it either. Probably mostly because it meant that they would be either with or against their boss. Izzy could respect that way of thinking.
The next day, Izzy was in one of the decidedly bee-less greenhouses, collecting cucumbers from the vines. He felt eyes on himself, but that wasn’t new. Sometimes the people collecting deliveries stared or something like that. It was fine, he didn’t care.
When the feeling didn’t go away, Izzy glanced behind himself. There was a pretty dark-skinned girl with a yellow sundress walking up toward him.
She was giving him very obvious elevator eyes as she let her hips sway just enough for it to be obvious and sexy as hell.
“Hi,” she said when she got to him. “You must be Izzy.”
“That’d be me,” he replied, grinning. “What gave me away?”
“Well, I heard there was a gorgeous guy with ink to die for working here now. Had to come see for myself,” she said, giving him another appreciative look.
“Seems like I fit the description,” he said casually, because it wasn’t new to hear, either. He knew he was good looking, and most people either thought he was just that or that and a thug, and Izzy didn’t care about either, personally. It made all attention feel cheap or judgmental, or both.
“I got to say, your ink is interesting,” she murmured, leaning closer and running her fingers along his tattoo sleeve.
She was being obvious without being obvious. Izzy liked her style, but still took a step back.
