Page 9 of Cash

“Better.” Brick brushed off his hands and looked around the yard.

The damage was still considerable, but he knew the grass would eventually grow back and he could get more decorations. After having such a full yard for so long though, it just didn’t look right. He missed his flamingo in particular, and he’d stubbornly saved its broken legs with the intent of trying to fix it later.

“I guess we’ve done everything we can, huh?” Brick frowned. “Damn.”

“I could send somebody over to fix the grass,” Jules offered.

“No, please. You’ve been great.” Brick glanced over Jules’s sweaty shoulders and licked his lips unconsciously.

The sun was dropping down in the sky, taking on an orange glow and making Jules’s skin glow and shimmer… and… shit, Brick was staring again.

“So, uh.” Brick cleared his throat. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower. Dinner in thirty?”

“Sounds good.” Jules nodded. “You want me to just drag this shit to the curb?”

Brick frowned at the overflowing trash can. “Well, the guys at the funeral home said I could use their dumpster.”

“Funeral home?”

Brick pointed across the street to Brown-Wynne.

“Ah.” Jules grabbed the trash can. “I’ll handle it.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Brick raised his brows. “I don’t know who’s over there right now. They know me, but not you.”

Jules smiled. “Like anybody’s gonna stop me.”

“Okay. Fair.”

Brick watched Jules head over with the trash can, effortlessly dragging it behind him despite how full it was, and then headed inside. He paused to grab his shirt, lament the multiple pieces of his flamingo, and promptly zoomed off to take the fastest shower of his life.

He wanted as much time as possible to figure out what to wear.

It had to be nice, but not too dressy. He didn’t want it to be obvious that he was trying to look good—as if his constant staring wasn’t making his thoughts clear enough—and he was finally able to settle on a black pair of slacks and a white silk shirt block printed with black flowers.

Cursing at himself for wearing his house slippers outside and getting them dirty, he managed to find an old black pair that made it look like he’d totally chosen them on purpose and not out of desperation.

Brick returned to the kitchen to check on the brisket and remember where he’d left off cooking. A glass of wine was sure to help him remember, and he poured heavily. The brisket was done so he scooped it out along with the mushrooms and onions. The brisket and mushrooms went into a bowl to shred later and the onions in the trash. He mixed the refreshed gosari, green onion, garlic, and bean sprouts in the sauce he’d prepared earlier, and then added it all to the still boiling pot.

He’d just put the lid on when there was a knock at the door.

It was Jules, freshly showered and smelling amazing, wearing a black suit with no tie. He’d blissfully left the top few buttons of his shirt undone to offer a tiny peek of dark chest hair, and Brick loved that they were unintentionally matching.

He also loved that there was a bottle of wine under Jules’s arm.

“Hey! Come on in!” Brick stepped back to wave Jules inside. “You look great.”

“Thanks. Uh, you too.” After ducking his head to step through the doorway, Jules glanced around the house appraisingly. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks.” Brick pointed to the wine. “Is that for me?”

“Sure is.” Jules noticed the shoes at the door. “Shoes off?”

“Please. That blue pair of slippers is a guest pair.”

Jules leaned against the wall to toe off his boots, each one landing with a heavy clunk. He tried to put the slippers on, but it was obvious that Jules’s foot was not going to fit.

Probably not even half of it.

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