Page 14 of Service Included

“Twelve thirty. Tyler and I are heading out to donate a load and then get lunch. Want something?”

He meantfood, actual food that a person put in her mouth, not anything else.

“Like the truck says, our motto is full service. Whatever you want’s included.”

“Hey, Nico?” Tyler called his name from the hallway, jarring them both.

Nico turned for the door. “Should I surprise you?” he asked over his shoulder. She was running a beat behind, because she hadn’t answered before he added, “With lunch?”

“Sure. Okay.” She rushed words into the gap after his question. “I like ham or turkey, cheese, any cheese, but no avocado.”

“At your service.” He reached for the doorknob.

The offer of a sandwich was not an offer of his penis, nor did saying the wordservicewith that sexy vibrating voice when theywere talking about food—just food—mean she should assume subtext.

“Wait, can I give you some cash?”

He waved her off. “I’m not really a starving student. It’s fine. Back in about an hour, bearing one avocado-free sandwich.” With another grin, he disappeared into the main house, presumably to join Tyler.

If this had been a myth, a vengeful goddess would have sent Nico to expose the flaws in her character, which in turn would result in an epic disaster that would climax with some flavor of-cide.Not matricide, not precisely, and not libricide, because she had no vendetta against books. Her current grudge was with retired librarians who deliberately threw together their adult children, but neither her functional Latin nor her half-forgotten ancient Greek were racing to invent words today. The librarian posse remained undoomed.

“Took a while in there, Boss.” Tyler’s muffled voice came from a room deep in the house.

Nico’s reply was a rumble that Megan strained, and failed, to decipher.

“I mean, she’s hot. And you—”

“Yeah, I noticed.” This time, Nico was loud enough to hear. The two men seemed to have moved into the hall, close to the front door.

“Wanted to say that we all remember Chloe, always will, but maybe you should go for it—”

“It’s lunchtime, not another fucking therapy session, okay? Let’s shut up and get lunch.”

Ouch.The hard tone of Nico’s comment made Megan wonder who Chloe was and why Nico would need therapy about her.

“Sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”

In the pause, Megan realized she was holding her breath, waiting for Nico’s reply.

“Yeah, me too.” She imagined him shoving his hand into his untidy dark hair, the movement short and frustrated to go with his tone. “Shouldn’t have snapped. And I am trying, okay? She’s easy to talk to. I’m trying.”

After the apologies and tumbling words, one of the men closed the front door hard enough that the workbench vibrated under her palms.

The end of the conversation had created a flutter inside Megan’s chest.Easy to talk to.One of the nicer things anyone had said about her lately. She replayed the rest of the exchange, but it was hard to understand without more context. Tyler seemed to be encouraging Nico to flirt, despite whatever this person named Chloe had meant to Nico. Maybe the younger man was yet another cog in the schemery of their mothers.

She turned back to the bench and rested her palms on the carton of magazines while she listened to the cargo van’s engine start. It seemed to her like nothing stood in the way of exploring their attraction but themselves. Granted, Nico’s past self might be messy, if his friends and his mother believed he needed this much help. But his hair was the kind of messy she could sink her fingers into, his jeans were the kind of scruffy she wanted to rub against, and she’d volunteer to wipe smudges off his cheekbones ad infinitum.

In the silence, that little flutter hatched by Nico’s words grew into an epiphany. She could be the pursuer. She could ask for what she wanted, whether it was a sandwich or whatever Nico seemed to be proposing when their gazes connected. He was an attractive man, almost age-appropriate, who liked to flirt, not hers or anyone’s impending doom. His mouth kept saying full service, and his eyes kept hinting at meanings more personal than box taping, so maybe she should ask for something that wasn’t going to send either of them to therapy, somethinguncomplicated and fun. Something like a beer with him later. And then maybe—

Sex? Yeah, maybe. Actual sex. With Nico.

She knew herself well enough to acknowledge that because the garage was basically finished and she was too hungry to start the family room, if she didn’t occupy her brain, she risked spending thirty minutes rehashing her conversation with Nico, and everything else she’d overheard, in light of this dangerously seductive new thought.

Maybe Aleesha could distract her. She reached for her phone. She wanted to tell her friend about Nico, but the point was not to think about him, so she looked at their conversation. Nothing new since Megan had sent a picture of one of the magazines while Aleesha was on the bus.

I read part of one of these. It was

She paused. Ridiculous wasn’t the right word, but she couldn’t decide whatwaswhile she tried to complete her thought.

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