Page 35 of The Company We Keep

But it was still too early to tell whether or not Dust would be that trustworthy party.

“Not yet,” Carrow said, finally. “Maybe someday.”

“That’s fair,” Dust said, nodding. “Between the filing systems, learning how to change oil, and watching Wayles work, I’m on information overload at this point anyway.”

Carrow laughed at that.

“Leta made you learn how to change oil?”

“She didn’tmakeme,” Dust protested, smiling now that the tension was broken. “I hope you’re not judging me for the fact that I didn’t know how.”

“Civilians delegate things like that,” Carrow said. “No judgment here. I’m sure she was excited to have a willing pupil, since none of us likes to get grease on our hands.”

“I don’t think I retained much. I’m trying though. I can still barely find my way around this place. If you see me writing something on the back of my hand, just know that it’s a map back to my room.”

Carrow searched his face for any sign of anger about the night before — and why did they both keep returning to that moment? But no. Dust wasn’t angry. There was a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Unless you’d like me to get lost again?”

Carrow tried not to react to the words. He failed. He swallowedaudiblyand cursed himself for it, pressing his lips into a line.

Jesus, Ansel, have you forgotten how to deal with someone coming onto you?

Plenty of people had flirted with him — anyone with half a brain would consider making a pass at a billionaire. But something about the easy way Dust approached him, the slow flirtation — it made Carrow’s brain go goddamn haywire. He couldn’t even lob back a lame line.

“You’ll get your bearings soon enough, I’m sure,” he said, cursing himself, hating himself.

What the hell was holding him back? He wanted Dustand he could have him and there was nothing in his way but his idiot self.

The conversation was getting away from him. Dust didn’t seem deterred, and his smile hadn’t even faltered at Carrow’s stupid response. Carrow was a mess — a goddamnmess.

Dust got up from his chair and joined Carrow on the sofa. The length of their thighs pressed together as he sat down. It was like he’d read Carrow’s fucking mind. He was close and looking at Carrow expectantly.

“So,” Dust said with a casual shrug. “How do you like it?”

Holy hell, is this really going to happen?

Dust fanned out a hand, gesturing to Carrow’s lap.

Yes, apparently. This is really going to happen.

His heart thudded hard in his chest and he cursed himself for feeling like a nervous 16-year-old on his first date, crippled by his own anxiety, his own indecision.

“I always feel conflicted about Fowles. I don’t want to spoil anything, but I hated the end of that one.”

The fucking book. Dust was talking about the fucking book.Carrow let out the ragged breath that he’d been holding and hoped Dust didn’t notice.

“You’ve read it?” Carrow asked, stupidly. Of course he’d read the goddamn book.

“Twice. Once when I was a teenager and then again a few years ago.” He reached for the book and Carrow handed it over. “The first time, I really identified with the protagonist. But on the second read, he just seemed like a self-obsessed asshole.”

He flipped through the pages, letting more of his weight sink back on the overstuffed cushions, letting his leg press more against Carrow’s.

“You’re almost done,” Dust said, noting the page Carrow had the book opened to. “What do you think about him?”

“The jury’s still out on whether or not I think he’s an asshole. But Idolike Conchis.”

Dust puffed a soft laugh through his nose.

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