Page 44 of 4 Hints You Love Your Best Friend

“Oh, he is. He even leaves small bites of cinnamon rolls in the fridge.”

“Heathen,” she says, miming her horror.

“Agreed. And…” I glance at her bedroom door, which is closed. If I know Jolene, the madness from our shared living area has exploded in there. “I wonder if all parts of my home are tidied,” I say as I strut for her door.

She pulls some impressive sprinting move and gets to the door before me. She swings her arms out, barricading entry. “You don’t have permission to enter my room.”

“Is there something wrong with your room?”

“Nope. No. Nothing.”

“So it’s as tidy as the living area?”

Her lips twitch. “It’s incredibly tidy.”

I should walk away. Let Jo have this moment. Shedidclean our shared space. She planned a dinner for us to cook, but messing with her is too much fun. I know exactly how to get her to move.

I twist my face into a horrified expression and shout, “Mouse!”

She squeaks and flings herself onto the couch, scanning the floor frantically. “Where?”

“Nowhere,” I say, grinning.

I open her bedroom door and laugh. I should be horrified at the sight. The shoes normally cluttering the entryway are scattered on her floor, and the rest of the space looks like a teenager tossed their dirty laundry willy-nilly, but the space is so Jo.

“I can’t believe I fell for that.” She punches lightly at my back. “Move, you big oaf. That area is private.”

Amused, I turn and catch her wrist before she smacks me again. “Guess you still have a fear of mice.”

She scrunches her nose and studies the floor. “Those beady eyes are evil.”

“But you’re fine with snakes and beetles and bugs.”

“Snakes and beetles and bugs are cool.”

Chuckling, I release her hand. “I’ll never understand you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she says, no longer sounding cheeky or afraid. Her voice has a weight to it I can’t parse. “Ready to cook?” she adds, reverting to upbeat.

I’ve been pathetically ready all day. “Are we making burgers?”

She curls her lip. “Ground meat is a mystery concoction of mashed eyeballs, lips, and ass. We’re making fish tacos.”

Her dislike of burgers is as I remembered, yet Jake seems to think she loves them. The awareness has me second-guessing giving her his letter, but I told Jake I’d pass it along. Best to do it after dinner, though, once we’ve had a chance to relax from our days. “Tacos sound great. One of my favorite food groups.”

I take a quick shower, even though showering since living with Jo is anything but simple. The feminine smells are mostly to blame. What man wouldn’t take a minute to pop open her pink shampoo bottle and breathe in the spring scent? Aromatherapy is a thing, and I swear the sweet, flowery notes kind of calm me. At least I thought ahead and brought in a clean T-shirt and sweats. There’s no need to dart past Jo in nothing but a towel.

Hair still wet, but feeling more human, I join Jo in the kitchen and survey the veggies on the counter. “Everything looks like it was cut by one of those infomercial kitchen gadgets.”

She holds up her chef knife. “Because I’m exceptional with one of these. How was work this week?”

“We’re making solid progress on the Rosens’ kitchen. Hit a snag with one of the measurements, but I was able to fix it. And you should see the Liangs’ puppy. Cutest damn thing.” I smile, picturing those huge floppy ears. “Chases me around while I try to build their fence. And the Elroy deck is in the early stages but coming along nicely.”

She tilts her head. “You love what you do.”

I think about why I started construction—Jake pushing me to vent my anger and frustration through manual labor. But that’s not why I still do it. “I like how tangible construction is. Real materials building real things. I get satisfaction with the end result and how happy people are with my work. Feels good to make a difference in a person’s life, even if it’s building a deck for family barbecues. And I get to use numbers and my planning skills.”

“I love that for you.”

---