Page 24 of Houston, We Have a Problem
He blushes slightly. “I wanted her to have a place she could afford on her own—she’s stubborn, like me—but she’s a teacher, so she doesn’t make much. I like to help my family however I can.”
Sensing there’s more, I grab his hand. Becausethatmakes sense.Not. Still, now that I’ve got him, I don’t want to let go, and he’s looking at our hands with such an intense look that I refuse to break his concentration. It’s not like we’reholding hands—his is sitting palm-down on his leg—but I’ve got my fingers wrapped around his hand in a way that says this isn’t just a casual touch.
I give him another verbal nudge. “And?”
“My stepsister started a bookstore,” he says, his voice lower than before. “But she’s making so much money that I’m thinking I should tell her to buy me out so she doesn’t have to keep sharing her profits.”
I’m grinning like an idiot, but I can’t help it. This is so different from the man I expected Houston Briggs to be but in the best possible way. I’m not sure this is the story Connor is looking for, but I am more than okay going down this rabbit hole. Houston has lit up in the last few minutes, and he looks like he’s lost a lot of the weight that was sitting heavy on his shoulders. He was carrying it so well that I didn’t notice it until it was gone.
“I think it’s really cool that you have helped so many people out like that,” I tell him with full sincerity. “I can’t imagine how grateful they are, and it says a lot about who you are when you’re willing to put so much faith in people.”
That’s when his thumb wraps over my fingers, turning this into an active hand-holding situation. His wrist twists, slowly but surely, until our palms are together and he slips his fingers between mine. Every little movement of the process kicks my heart rate up another notch until it’s pounding in my chest.
What did I say about laundry? It’s a religious experience.
Houston spends a few seconds looking at our hands before lifting his eyes to meet mine, a furrow between his eyebrows as if he’s just as confused by this as I am. “I…” His voice comes out breathless, and he clears his throat before trying again. “I don’t really tell anyone about the businesses,” he says, leaning closer.
I lean too because I’m pretty sure this is all a weird dream and I don’t have control over my actions. Especially not when his eyes slip down to my mouth for half a second. If Houston Briggs wants to kiss me, I’m not going to stop him. “Why not?”
“It’s… I don’t do it for the recognition or the money. I got lucky. My job pays well—too well—and there are a lot of people out there who could be doing great things if they only had the opportunity.”
Be still my freaking heart. No, seriously, it feels like it’s about to break right out of my ribcage because that is not thelook of a man who is planning to stay on his side of the couch. And clearly my body doesn’twanthim to stay on his side of the couch because I’m moving right in and closing my eyes. Holy guacamole, I’m going to kiss Houston Briggs.
An obnoxious buzz echoes through the house right before we make contact, jolting through me like a bolt of lightning. Houston chuckles and pulls back, untangling his hand and getting to his feet. “That’s the washer,” he explains before offering his hand again to help me up. The contact doesn’t last long, and I feel the loss as I follow him back up the stairs.
Was Houston really about to kiss me? That seems so out of left field, but my body is still humming with electricity from his touch. I’ve seen his last girlfriend—hard not to when her new movie is plastered all over billboards right now—and there is no way I measure up to that. Maybe I’m just an easy score, but it doesn’t feel like it. Getting tangled up with his tenant is dangerous in a lot of ways, and he’s too smart to get himself mixed up in a situation like that. Especially with Tamlin hanging around Sun City.
That had to have been real desire propelling him forward.
I don’t know what to do with that. Why would he be interested inDarcy?
Houston clears his throat again as I finish moving my wet clothes to the dryer. “Do you want to come out with me tonight?”
My stomach clenches. “What?”
Though he cringes at my not-so-eager reaction, he presses forward anyway. “I know you’re new in town and probably don’t know anybody and… My stepsister, the one with the bookstore, she’s in town for a couple of days, and my siblings and I are going out to a bar.”
“I don’t really drink.”
“Me neither, but they have some killer nachos.”
As surprised as I am by that confession, I definitely can’t be around Houston right now, even if nachos sound delicious. I need to talk to Connor and get his take on how I should act going forward. Houston is clearly into me, but putting all of his focus on Darcy might compromise anything Tamlin might be able to accomplish. Tamlin spooked him earlier this week, which means she’s probably on to something—I’mon to something—and I don’t want to risk this whole assignment.
Mostly, I just need Connor to help me keep a clear head. This suddenly doesn’t feel like just a job anymore, and that makes this dangerous.
“Thanks,” I say, “but I’ve got some work I need to do tonight. In fact, I should probably get cracking while these are drying.”
He looks like a lost puppy, though he hides his disappointment quickly. “No worries.”
I grab his arm. “Maybe another time?”
That pulls a little smile out of him, and I try not to pay too much attention to his lips. For obvious reasons. “Sure. Just, you know, text me anytime you’re free and I can show you around Sun City.”
I force a smile. This is exactly what I should want, but that vulnerability he’s giving me in his open expression worries me. I want him to trust me, but I don’t want him to fall for me. Ireallydon’t want to fall for him and muddy these already blurring lines. I’m walking a razor thin line right now. “That sounds great,” I say. “I’ll, uh, come back for these in an hour or so. Unless you’ll already be out?”
“We’re meeting up for dinner first,” he admits, but he looks like he’s thinking hard as he glances around the laundry room. “How about I give you a key?”
Oh, Houston Briggs, you don’t know what you’re doing. Feeling slightly sick, I nod and follow him back down to thekitchen where he digs through a drawer and pulls out what could be his doom, depending on if he has any skeletons in his closet.
