He jiggles the handle roughly, and the toilet stops running. “Got it,” he says. “I’ll add this to my list.”
I step out of the bathroom, releasing a tightly held breath as I do. “Thanks. You know, I’ve lived with the quirks of the building for years, and it’s been relatively fine.”
“I’m not sure everyone has the patience for a loud toilet,” he says. “Hell, I don’t know if I do.”
“I suppose if you sell the building to someone who isn’t a developer,” I try, “this kind of thing might make a difference.”
“Won’t know anything until I consider my options,” he mutters, but after a moment, turns and catches my eye.
A tremble goes through me, and I swear I can feel it work through Clay, too. We’re connected, studying each other, him in his sweaty t-shirt and me in my thrifted pink linen suit jacket, each surrounded by tulips and roses and peonies.
Clay clears his throat, breaking the moment. “My to-do list just grew a hell of a lot longer,” he says. “I’ll have to move those boxes when the shop is closed.”
“Anytime outside of business hours is fine. I stay late most days, too, so you’ll see me here.”
When Clay pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket and uses it to wipe off his face, my knees get a little weak, and the full reality of the situation hits me, earning a surprised laugh.
He lowers his handkerchief. “What?”
“I just realized that Randy’s bi carpenter grandson is going to be working at the shop. You have no idea how many numbers you’re going to get.”
He looks like he’s about to stammer, and I have to bite back a grin. He’s cute when he’s flummoxed, but I don’t want to embarrass him further.
“It’s not like that,” Clay says roughly.
I take sympathy on him, but I want to prepare Clay for the situation, too. “It’s only that your grandfather’s reputation precedes you. And I don’t think you appreciate how regularly thegossip train runs in the gayborhood. You might want to brace yourself.”
Clay looks moderately distressed by that, which makes sense. I enjoy some flirtatious attention, but I realize he probably wouldn’t.
“Listen,” he says, “what I’m trying to say is it’s not like that because I’m not bi.”
I blink. “What?” I ask, confused. Did I hallucinate that entire conversation?
Oh my god, am I so horny for Clay that I misheard him? Randy was right—I clearly do need to get laid.
“Fuck. I mean, I am. Or something. I don’t know. I’ve never done anything about it. And it’s not something I usually talk about.”
“Oh.”
I scold myself for acting carelessly and making assumptions yet again. Of course he could be anywhere on his path. And he’s not much of a talker, so I need to pay particularly close attention to what he does offer me and stop filling in the blanks. I’m curious to understand Clay better.
“Sorry that, uh, I suggested the entire town would be gossiping about your sexuality, in that case.”
Clay sighs. “It’s fine. I’m the one who blurted it out on a crowded street.”
“Right. Why did you do that?”
He huffs, one hand on his hammer at the hip of his tool belt. “Hell if I know. I’m tired and dealing with a lot right now.”
“Fair enough. I’ll do what I can to keep your personal business private, although I have to level with you. Gunther at the gym is the biggest gossip in town. That’s why he got the job working the front desk in the first place. He’s probably told people that you took his number.”
“Figures. I always find a way to make things hard for myself.”
“Trust me, I personally enjoy some attention, but even for me, it can be a bit much. The gayborhood has known me my entire life, and everyone’s aware that I’m a diehard romantic.” I gesture up to J.Lo, now in a designer dress and necklace combo, as though to prove my point. “You saw how it was walking down the street with me. They’re as eager for me to fall in love as I am.”
“Sounds miserable.”
I laugh. “It’s sweet. And sometimes suffocating. That’s part of why I love it here.”
