Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Guilty as charged,” I said. “And I’ll try.”
Great. Now I was left there with Rush across the bar from me, leaning forward on both his hands, looking at me again with those goddamn eyes. The blue was so intense and bracing with startling beauty, but his eyelids were constantly in a slightly sleepy-looking state, like he was a minute away from pulling somebody into his bedroom at all times.
“You guys got into some trouble today?” he asked me, catching me off guard.
“What? No—”
“I mean with the bad fixer-upper,” he said. “Not fun trouble.”
“Fixer-uppers can be fun trouble,” I said, watching him. “Sometimes you get a house and discover cool secrets in it. Found an actual diamond embedded inside S-shaped crown molding, once. A tiny one, but still. And then there was the house that had red oak cabinets glued over solid wood white oak cabinets. Can you believe that? Putting red over white? White is so much more expensive.”
I looked at him, waiting for a reaction, but he was just gazing at me with that strange mixture of looking amused and seductive at the same time. How was that possible?
“Damn,” he said simply.
“Shit. I was rambling,” I said. “Sorry.”
“You’re being a total construction worker nerd,” he said.
“Isn’t that impossible? Nerds nerd out about computers or board games, not power tools and hardwood and brickwork.”
Rush shook his head. “Nope. Hate to tell you, but I think you’re a construction nerd.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically.
“And I like it,” Rush said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t be shy. I was enjoying your stories. It’s cool that houses have secrets.”
The truth was that I was enjoying telling him about the stories, too. Rush was actually paying attention to me, for the first time in my memory, and it felt way too nice to have his eyes fixed on me.
“Found a stack of cash under the tobacco pine floorboards of one house we fixed up last year,” I told him. “Only turned out to be about seven hundred bucks, but we had fun with that for a few weeks, buying a lot of rounds of drinks for people here at the brewery.”
“You two are too nice.”
“Just nice enough.”
He looked from my lips to my eyes and back up again. “You really do look good these days, Shawn.”
He reached over to pour more whiskey for us, this time in regular glasses to sip.
I swallowed. “You look good, too,” I finally said. “But I guess you’re probably used to hearing that.”
“Maybe,” he told me, keeping eye contact for another moment. “But I like that you said it.”
Was this flirting? Or was it just how he always acted? I sure as shit wasn’t any good at knowing when guys were flirting—it was one of the downsides of being deeply in the closet until I’d been well into my twenties. Even now, I was clueless half of the time.
But my traitorous dick was perking up under my pants, as every impossible teenage fantasy I’d ever had about Rush was suddenly flooding back into my mind.
I clutched the cool glass of liquor in my hand. Before I could think of something to say, Rush headed off to help two other customers who’d just sat down at the bar. I watched him work as I sat and sipped the whiskey, which somehow tasted more expensive now that I knew how much it cost.
Jade Brewery had always been like a second home to us. Out the big windows just across the street, I could see our small brick Fixer Brothers office building. Everything here on Spruce Street was the heart of Jade River’s little town square, and now it was all going to feel different. With Rush here, I didn’t know how much would change, especially if he ended up selling the brewery and leaving town.
Lately it seemed like everything around me was changing, anyway. So many of my friends and coworkers were getting married and having kids, and as usual, I was ten steps behind. I tried not to let myself think about it too hard. What was the point of dreaming about starting my own family if I couldn’t even find a partner?
“Heard you’re looking to break a dry spell tonight,” Rush asked as he came back over toward me, making some sort of lemon cocktail behind the bar.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know why the hell my brother keeps calling it that,” I said.
“It isn’t a dry spell?”
“I decided to stop dating for six months because my last few attempts at boyfriends were shitshows.”
He leaned forward on the bar. “No wonder you just want to fuck someone now.”
“Problem is I have no idea how to do casual hookups,” I said. “I don’t even know how to flirt.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “I don’t think someone like you will have to try very hard.”