CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NICHOLAS
It’s hookup night, and I am more than ready for it.
I’ve been full steam ahead all week, drawing up my reserves of energy. Visiting the flower farms made the situation clear. Flower Hub is sticking their nose in all my best contracts, and they haven’t even opened their doors. They’re ordering in magnitudes that I don’t understand, which means they’re planning for a future without me in it.
When I try to reach them directly, I can’t even track down real people. It’s endless customer-service robot hell over the phone, while my emails go into the void.
With a probable rent increase coming down the road, too, it’s time to double my efforts in making Blossom a financial success.
I wave to a few friends down the street before I duck into the shop, entering through the front door like I’m going to work. Snickering to myself at the subterfuge, I walk straight around to the stairway, then up to Clay’s door as I whistle. I’ve got a backpack and a paper bag, and I hitch the weight as I wait for him to answer.
I had such a nice time with him at the flower farms, and I can’t wait to get my hands on him again.
The door swings open, and he’s there. The sun is setting behind him, and Clay is wearing one of his worn T-shirts, the soft ones that cling to his muscles.
He raises up half a smile. “Hey. Let me help you with that.”
“It’s no problem,” I say as I kick off my shoes. I walk straight to the table, and I notice the place is starting to fall into order. Putting the bags down, I turn back to Clay. “I brought you presents.”
“What?” he asks, voice gruff.
I laugh. “You heard me. I picked up a pillow and a pillowcase. Because how can you have only one pillow? It’s a little demented. And some more lube to replenish you. Plus a sheet that isn’t scratchy. That’s all.”
Clay blinks at me. He hitches his jeans up. “What the hell is this about?”
“You’re allowed to do me favors. Now I’m doing you a favor in a return.”
“Maybe I like only having one pillow and scratchy sheets.”
“Do you?”
He frowns. “No,” he admits.
He walks over and grabs the pillow off the table, giving it a firm, slow squeeze.
“You bought this?”
“It was on clearance.”
He grunts. “Thanks.” He gestures around. “I’m trying to make it nicer in here. Realized I’m going to have to show it to people to sell it.”
“It looks fantastic already. The siding you repaired makes the whole building pop.”
“Thanks.” Clay walks over to the fridge. “Want a drink? I picked up a bottle of wine and some vodka. I could tell you aren’t a beer guy.”
A tingle goes over me. “That’s nice of you. Is it red by chance?”
He nods. “I never drink anything but beer. Tried to get a decent wine, though.”
I smile. “Thanks! Beer makes me sleepy. Wine makes me flushed and horny.”
Clay arches a heavy eyebrow at me. “Let me get you a big glass.”
I blurt out a loud laugh. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him yet, and it’s nice.
We talk casually for a while, about the repairs and Blossom, Allentown and Missouri. By the time we’re on the couch, the heat is rising, and I’m pulled toward him.
