Page 75 of The Guy in the Alley

Seriously? Four hundred thousand?

“Jesus.”

“I know.” He shook his head, and we started walking back toward the finish line. “He’s got nearly twenty thousand followers now. It’s insane.”

Gym chalk, huh? I made a mental note.

Because one thing was clear. Ben missed the fuck out of his son, even though they saw each other at least three or four times a week these days. In other words, Alvin was my best weapon. If I could get that guy to like me…?

“Speaking of Alvin, I reserved a corner booth for tomorrow,” I said. “He can have his back to the whole dining area if there are too many impressions.”

“I appreciate it. Thank you.” He folded up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. “He’s mostly sensitive to sounds, but too much movement will drain him too.” He nudged me with his elbow. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Oh yeah?” I grinned. “Have you talked me up good and proper?”

He chuckled. “I, uh…I introduced him to Nutella and pretzel sticks. No talking up necessary after that.”

That made me laugh. Priceless!

“He says they have the perfect crunch. Plus, he loves Nutella.”

Well, I was a genius, so…

We found a good spot near the finish line that wasn’t too crowded, and I circled back to how Ben had ended up here today. After a weekend of working extra, he only had today off before he returned to day shifts tomorrow, so I’d assumed he’d sleep more.

“I was in the area,” he replied. “Someone in River North wanted to get rid of two solid oak kitchen tables on Craigslist, so I hightailed it over there. The tables look like shit, but it’s good material.”

I smiled to myself and scratched my nose. “That explains your slutty handyman outfit.”

He didn’t precisely take the bait. “Should I worry that you have named all my outfits? The slutty handyman, the slutty casual wear, the slutty road worker?—”

“And it stops there,” I pointed out. “You only have those three.”

“I don’t need any more.”

“I didn’t say you did. I’m just saying it hasn’t exactly been a huge project to come up with three names.”

“Clearly,” he snorted. “You’ve shown zero creativity.”

I grinned and scrubbed a hand over my mouth, beyond addicted to the way we talked. He was just so fucking easy to be with.

“It’s actually four now,” he added. “Ma bought me a button-down at Old Navy the other day. Apparently there was a sale.”

“What color?” I eyed him. His casual wear included jeans and a dark-green Henley that he looked incredible in.

“Black.”

I nodded. “Hot. But it doesn’t count as a fourth until you have pants that go with it.”

“What kind of bullshit rule is that? I have the same pair of jeans for the handyman and the casual.”

“Yeah, but you have a pair of sweats too to make up for that.” I frowned up at him. “Don’t you know anything about fashion?”

He gave me a look and folded his arms over his chest, but before he could sling back a wisecrack, we heard a blast go off in the distance. It was quickly followed by kids cheering, and I vaguely remembered having heard it before. Only, it hadn’t registered until now. The race must’ve begun.

I waited for the little runners to appear and changed the subject. “We’re getting something to eat after. You wanna join?”

“Yeah. Not here, I hope.”

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