Page 37 of Bossman

“Took a few months, but eventually they did. I think I slept for twenty-four hours the day after they were arrested. I had taken to sleeping on the floor in Owen’s room, and any little sound would wake me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Thank you.” Talking about that day always made me feel sad, but somehow, today, it felt oddly cathartic, and I was ready to move on to lighter topics. “So, you cook, huh?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Let’s see what you can do, Bossman.”

Chase turned on the griddle of his big stove and tossed a few slices of whole wheat bread on to grill. He then took out the strangest combination of things…including pineapple, cream cheese, and a bag of nuts.

As he began slicing the pineapple, he smiled and extended a piece to me across the island. “Are you a picky eater?”

“Not usually. I like to experiment.”

“So you’ll let me feed you whatever I want?”

My eyebrows jumped.

“I was talking about pineapple-cream cheese-cashew surprise. But I like the way you’re thinking better.”

The flirty banter was back, and the awkwardness from the living room seemed to be behind us, though I still felt the need to address it.

I looked up at him and spoke softly. “I’m sorry about before—for picking up the guitar and helping myself to it. I shouldn’t have done that. It looked like it upset you.”

He looked away briefly. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s been collecting dust for years anyway. Someone should play it.”

“You don’t play?”

“No, I don’t.”

He offered nothing else, so I left it be.

The bizarre sandwiches he made us turned out to be delicious, and we sat in the kitchen, talking as we ate.

“This house is beautiful,” I told him. “I’ll admit, I would have guessed you more of a penthouse/highrise type than a brownstone guy before today. But seeing this, it fits you.”

“Oh yeah? I’m not really sure what that means. Is it good?”

I smiled. “It is.”

“Tell me, does Brice live in a penthouse or a brownstone?”

“Bryant. And he lives in a regular apartment building, I guess. Like me.”

“And is that the type of guy you normally go for?”

“My type seems to be more the liars, losers, and leeches. I haven’t had the best luck in my love life the last…I don’t know…dozen or so years.”

“Is that all, just a dozen years? It’s a dry spell. I’m sure it will clear up any day.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Tell me about Barclay. Which one is he? Liar, loser, or leech?”

I shook my head. “Bryant isn’t any of them.” Popping the last piece of the snack Chase had made into my mouth, I figured it was his turn to talk. But he didn’t. Instead he watched me chew and waited for me to continue. “I’m pretty sure he’s a genuinely nice guy.”

“So why haven’t you slept with him yet?”