“There’s nothing to share,” I said.
Not that I would, anyway. That was more Silas’s style, though he’d been rather quiet on that front lately.
“We danced at the club. It was fun. But once we got there, it was pretty obvious I’m not really Jory’s type. He’s into more masc guys. Just one more reason we weren’t meant to be.”
“That’s so disappointing,” Jamie said. “But you can’t really expect to find your dream man on the first try, right?”
“I guess not.” My mind drifted back to Damon’s reaction, and I smirked. “At least I got to rub it in Damon’s face.”
“He didn’t like it, huh?” Silas said, a speculative look on his face.
“No.” I laughed. “He was so gobsmacked when Jory came up the walk. His eyes nearly fell out of his head.”
“At least you guys can end this pranking now,” Jamie said. “You got him back without actually doing anything.”
“Maybe,” I murmured. “He did seem rattled.”
“Serves him right,” Silas said. “That guy has been nothing but a dick to you.”
I fought the urge to defend Damon. Hehadbeen a dick ever since he moved in. I’d complained to Silas and Jamie about it nonstop ever since.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jory had said. About Damon eating me up with his eyes. Or about the fact that the living room light in Damon’s place had been on when I got home after one a.m. Saturday night.
Damon never stayed up much past ten, not with the early hours he kept. Not even on the weekends.
Damon might have stayed up in the hopes he could get back at me for going on the date in the first place. Maybe he thought he could interrupt my goodnight kiss and sabotage the end of the night.
Or maybe…just maybe, my asshole neighbor—the thorn in my side for the past two years—had waited up to make sure I got home safe.
And if he did, then what the hell did that mean?
CHAPTER 8
Damon
Granville’s best breakfast place—theonlybreakfast place if you wanted something other than doughnuts—was The Diner. Personally, I could have gone for a Glazed Hole right about now. Although, I desperately needed coffee. I’d forgotten when I was waiting up for Maverick to get his ass home from that date last night that I had this early breakfast with Wendy to plan our parents’ anniversary party.
And if there was one universal truth in life, it was that youneverdrank coffee from Glazed Holes. Not if you wanted a stomach lining, anyway.
The parking lot was so full I had to park behind the building and enter through the back. There was a joke in there somewhere, but I was too tired to appreciate it. It was a sad day when a guy was too groggy for sex jokes.
I slipped down the hallway that ran past two bathrooms and the kitchen entrance. Dishes clanked as the staff scrambled to keep up with the breakfast rush. The short-order cook, Gladys, was barking orders at her assistant.
“Where’s my toast? Get my side of toa—No,notthat kind. I’ll just get it myself. Start the next rash of bacon, and don’t you dare touch my eggs!”
I hurried past. Breakfast always tasted better when you didn’t see how it was made.
The dining room was full, the vinyl-and-chrome tables filled with older residents. They loved to congregate for morning coffee—and gossip. Both flowed freely.
Paula and Dirk Goodman sat bickering about something. That was par for the course with those two. Ever since Dirk kissed another woman and Paula whacked him over the head with a skillet, their relationship had been as tumultuous as any teen love affair. Paula starting her own sex toy business on the side hadn’t made Dirk very happy, but he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on after getting caught trying to mess around with her cousin.
Elmer Boyd, owner of Elmer’s Family Jewels, sat with Ray Carr, former owner of the best auto shop in town. He’d passed it on to his top mechanic, Darren Rafferty. Dude was a little nuts. I’d played Truth or Dare with him once or twice, but I’d called it quits after Heath Warrington broke his ankle by jumping off a bridge.
I scanned the room for my sister, grimacing when I saw she’d chosen a booth right next to a group of the nosiest, most meddlesome women in town. Iola Fletcher led the bunch, and she’d only gotten worse since launching her Matchmaking Mamas business…which I’d supported by setting up that profile for Maverick. Oops.
Her best friends Lula Miller and Marilyn Lattimer sat with her, all of them gabbing and gesturing wildly as if their lives depended on gossip. I rounded a table on my right so I could approach my sister from the other direction.
I slid into the booth, feeling as if I’d just run a gauntlet, and grabbed my sister’s mug. “Coffee, thank fuck.”
