Page 28 of A Minute More

I shake my head and then shake it again. “No. I’m not. I’d know.”

Lucas shrugs and pushes away from the doorframe. “Yeah, see. This is why I didn’t wanna tell you. It’s none of my business.”

He ambles off, and I just watch him go, my eyes swiveling down to his ass before shooting toward the wall.

Yeah. No. I’m not bi. I’m nothing but straight. I just let Simon kiss me because I couldn’t move. I was experiencing a part of him I’d never seen before and that, in and of itself, was magical. How could I have turned him away?

I couldn’t have. That’s all there is to it.

But that doesn’t mean I’m bi. No fucking way.

I flop down onto my stomach and stare at my phone some more, willing Simon to message me back. Seems he won’t though, so my efforts at telepathically communicating with him are in vain.

I have to find something else to do with my life. Obsessing over him isn’t healthy.

That’s how I find myself sitting with Lucas in the garage as he whittles away at a piece of wood. I think he’s trying to make a spoon. I swear, I don’t know why this guy lives in town. He needs to be out in the forest with pine trees and bears. I could see him erecting a log cabin with his bare hands and then sitting around a fire and roasting a rabbit.

He holds out some sharp-looking tools and shrugs.

“Want to try your hand at this? I don’t usually let people touch my babies, but I’ll make an exception because you look so fucking glum,” Lucas states, probably trying to make amends for suggesting I’m bi. I mean, he had no right to put those thoughts in my head.

You did think about smelling Simon’s ass, so maybe that’s the first sign.

Shaking my head, I take the tool from him. “Yeah, sure. Who knows? Maybe this will be my next calling.”

Lucas side-eyes me and then shakes his head. He shows me how to hold it and chastises me softly when I almost cut my finger off. He should have used a sterner tone. I don’t want to lose my fingers. The entire time, I’m clumsy and awkward, chipping away at the piece of wood like a beaver, but with less precision and accuracy.

I’m doing a terrible job.

Lucas doesn’t say anything, just lets me hack away. Seems I’m taking out my frustration on this poor dead tree.

“Wasn’t your fault, tree,” I say softly. It just sits silently, taking the abuse I’m offering, and I’m thankful that it’s being a martyr. I needed it. When I step back an hour later, my fingers sore and my arms screaming, Lucas just huffs.

“You destroyed it,” he says, and I shrug, taking in the mutilated piece of wood.

“Yeah, well…I obviously don’t have your natural talent. But some might say this is a work of art.”

Lucas shrugs, and I roll my eyes. Not everyone can take a piece of wood and make something beautiful out of it. Not everyone can be a magical lumberjack.

“Want another go?” Lucas asks, and I shake my head, my fingers already feeling like they’re gonna blister.

“No way, man. Are your hands super calloused or something? Mine feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

He nods and holds one out to me. I run my fingers across his palm and waggle my eyebrows.

“Must drive the ladies wild.”

“Yeah, something like that,” he murmurs and then begins working on a cabinet for a customer.

“Hey, I’ve never asked…why don’t you have your own shop?” I ask him after a moment.

“Can’t afford it,” he replies, and I eye him.

“But that’s what you want to do, right? To own your own shop?”

“Yeah, maybe somewhere out of town. Dunno. Not sure where life is leading me quite yet.”

“Out of town…you mean the backwoods?”

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