Page 28 of Pining for You

It made sense to me. “I’ll be over in about an hour. Want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” She tapped my arm and stepped back, then after a quick glance over her shoulder, her lips curved and she said, “Though you could bring more condoms. The box you tucked into the drawer in the living room only has one left. The bedroom stash is getting low, too.”

Oh hell, if John wanted to fire me instead of selling me the business, let him. I was not about to turn down Chloe’s invitation. I waited until she got into her own vehicle and was pulling out before I started mine and headed to the drugstore for supplies.

The next morning, a wolf whistle greeted me as I climbed out of my truck and headed to the door to my apartment. My friend Malcolm Walsh, who was engaged to the owner of the coach house I rent, was sitting on the back porch nursing a coffee, his feet up on the railing. “Doin’ a walk of shame there, Calhoun?”

“You got nothing better to do with your time than spy on me, Walsh?”

He tilted his chin using it to point at the garage door. “I get a notification every time the camera detects movement, so I saw you go out last night and know you’re only coming back now.”

“You’ve got a hidden camera back here?” Shit.

“It’s in the coach light.”

I knew about the doorbell camera on their front door, but I hadn’t noticed a camera in the light. While Port Paxton wasn’t a hot bed of criminal activity, Malcolm probably wanted to make sure Ellie was safe when he wasn’t around. Or maybe he was a sucker for electronic technology. But they’d seen every time I pulled in or out of the driveway? Had the camera caught the times I’d kissed Chloe good-bye after our dates? Or when she’d arrived?

Oh shit. Or the time I’d taken her against the door, right beneath the light?

“As for your walk of shame,” Malcolm continued, “I recognized that shirt.”

“It’s a black T-shirt and jeans. I have a dozen of each,” I grumbled.

“But only one shirt has I Work with Cutting Edge Technology on the back.”

Shelly had made me this shirt for my birthday a couple years ago. The black cotton had faded to a dark gray and some of the letters were starting to wear off, but it was one of my favorite shirts. To my relief, she hadn’t printed the text using a glittery vinyl like the “Sawdust is Man Glitter” shirt Cynthia had given me last Christmas. Have I mentioned my sisters are craftaholics?

“Still seeing Chloe?”

“Yup.”

“What’s that make it then? A month?”

“Almost two.” Fifty-five days, and forty-one dates, most of which I’d either stayed at her place or she’d stayed at mine. Not that I’d admit to Malcolm that I’d kept track.

If I woke up at Chloe’s place that morning and went back to her place that night, then technically was it still the same date? I wasn’t quite clear. But it didn’t matter. Even though we hadn’t been dating long, I was damned sure she was the one for me.

But today I hadn’t come straight home from Chloe’s apartment. John had texted me to meet him at the Pancake Shack where he’d given me more figures to use in my business proposal.

And here was Malcolm, one of the few people I could talk to about it and get good advice. “You got a minute?”

He tipped his coffee mug toward one of the chairs beside him. “Park your butt. I’ve got all morning. Besides, Ellie wanted me to talk to you about something today anyway.”

The rattan chair he’d pointed to creaked beneath my weight as I lowered my ass onto it. Deciding I didn’t want to be responsible for breaking what was probably a fairly expensive set, I grabbed a wrought iron chair from a Victorian-style patio set in the garden. I set it down, twirled it around and straddled it, noticing Malcolm’s gray shirt had a saying on its back too. Electricians Do It In the Dark. I briefly wondered if he’d bought it or someone had made it for him as a joke. “What’s up?”

“Ellie wants me to give you a heads-up that she’s holding a barbecue here next weekend. It’s a business thing for her clients and potential clients, so it’s going to be a little more highbrow than my type of barbecues. You’re welcome to come…”

“But I’d probably not fit in or I’d be bored,” I finished when he trailed off.

“Hell, I figure I’m going to be bored stiff myself.” His nose wrinkled as he stared into his coffee mug. “I’ve met a few of her clients, and most of them are okay. But there are a couple real stick-in-the-mud rich assholes who think they’re better than us blue-collar people because we work with our hands instead of behind a desk pushing digital money around like they’re God’s greatest.”

“I know the type. They’re the ones who think they can slip us a twenty and expect us to be happy when they ask us to cut down three massive trees, and remove all the debris like anybody could do it.”

“Bingo.” Malcolm scrubbed a hand over his face. “Anyway, as I said, you’re welcome to come, but it’s not a fun get-together.” I caught the implication that the only gathering Malcolm threw was fun. He wasn’t wrong. “She’s even hired a bartender to serve wine and cocktails like it’s some fancy English garden party.”

“No beer?” Who held a barbecue that didn’t serve beer?

“There’ll be beer, but it’s those artsy-fartsy artisanal craft beers that have floral or citrus notes.” We both shuddered. “Oh, and get this. They’re not grilling burgers. Or hot dogs. The chef she’s bringing in is known for their cucumber and tofu sandwiches and other fine health-conscious finger food.”

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