Page 8 of Whispered Promises

I could see Bry liking her, though. Maybe I could invite her over.

Ignoring the slight pang I feel at the image of the two of them together—because that sort of connection isn’t something I want to risk—I push those thoughts out and lean down to grab the length of timber skirting from the floor, taking it through to the empty flat I’m working in.

Another day, another job.

Maybe I should try something else; something with a suit would be cool. A nice three-piece, rather than being covered in dust and crap all day. I could try to sell the houses rather than be involved in building them.

I grin at the idea of telling the guys that I’m thinking of quitting and trying something new. I know I drive them nuts with not being able to stick to something, but I just get itchy for something different.

After a long day on site, I get back to our flat and open the door with a flourish, ready to tell them about my plans for tomorrow.

“Guess wh⁠—”

A tea towel smacks me in the face as I burst into the open-plan kitchen-living space.

“Get your shoes off, Maxi. You aren’t going to clean up your mess, and I don’t want to have to do it,” Bry scolds, exasperated. But to be honest, I should remember by now. Thankfully, the tea towel is at least dry this time.

“Shit, sorry!” Holding my hands up, tea towel still in one, I backtrack slowly out into the hallway and slip off my dusty site boots and leave them in the designated plastic box Bry has for dirty shoes.

Gingerly padding back into the kitchen, I offer up an apologetic smile as I hand back the towel and reaffirm my apology with a quick shoulder squeeze.

“Sorry, bro, I was so excited to tell you about my plans for tomorrow. I bumped into Rosy this morning on my way out. We got talking, and I offered to help her. She volunteers at an animal rescue on the weekends. How fucking cute is that? She said they’re in need of help, so I’ve offered myself up. You want me to be your wingman and talk you up?” I ask him, again ignoring the pang of…something that sparks in my chest.

“Rosy? She’s beautiful, but I don’t know if she’d be interested. We’ve been in the lift together twice, but she’s never said anything to me. I only know her name because you always talk about her. You’re not very tactful, so it might come across weird as we’ve never spoken before.”

I frown at his lack of enthusiasm, but I can sort of see his point. Sort of.

Watching my brother, in all ways but blood, focus so intently on the homemade pastry rather than on the idea of a pretty girl has me leaning across the kitchen island, my arms landing with a slap as I catch his eyes with mine.

“I’ll invite her over then, maybe for dinner with us all after a long day looking after all those animals. She probably gets home too exhausted to cook and just eats a microwave meal, or even worse, just a bowl of milk-less cereal.” I gasp. I’m laying it on thick, but I’m throwing the metaphorical fishing line right at him…

“Okay, invite her for dinner tomorrow. What do you think she likes? Is there anything she doesn’t eat? You’ll have to find out so I can make sure I have enough options. Maybe a mezze-style meal so she can pick things she likes?”

My bait’s been taken. Now I just need to get her comfortable enough to accept my invitation to come over, while resisting the urge to flirt with her when I’m trying to nudge her towards Bry.

“Sure, Bry. I’ll ask her whatever you want tomorrow and let you know. She’ll love your food; don’t worry too much. More importantly, though, what’s for dinner tonight? I’ve been lugging doorsets all day, and I am famished.”

Just as I take a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, Noah walks in from his room.

“Hey, Maxi, how was work?” he asks me, a smile tugging at his lips.

He didn’t work today, but instead of relaxing in sweats, he’s still dressed in his “professor” attire. His white-striped shirt is neatly tucked into his dark green chinos, and he even has a brown belt tying it all together. I love him like a brother, but I don’t get how he can wear this fancy shit when he’s just relaxing at home. There’s not one person who would agree that wearing a belt is relaxing. That shit cinches you in.

He claps a hand on my shoulder, then continues over to the kettle.

“Yeah, it was good. Boss man is being a bit of a dick and passing on the pressure to meet the deadline. But it’s all good,” I reply, snaking a hand out to grab one of the freshly baked pastries Bry pulled out of the oven.

Shoving it straight into my mouth, the molten lava cheese hits my tongue, and I swear steam blows out of my ears.

“Mmm—fuck, you coulda warned me!” I mumble around the burning hell pit that has opened up in my mouth.

Not wanting to waste the cheesy goodness by spitting it back out, I hollow my cheeks and try to blow out the inferno heat. Noah takes pity on my dumb-fuck self and hands me a glass of ice-cold water, but doesn’t manage to hold back the laugh that erupts from his non-steaming mouth.

Bastard.

“You do this every time, Maxi. You saw me take them out of the oven. Stop stealing them, and just wait for dinner,” Bry scolds, his eyes rolling as he continues rolling out more pastry and stuffing it with some sort of herb-and-cheese mix.

It’s like he just wants to taunt me with all this tasty goodness after I’ve been sweating my balls off all day.