Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(38)

Griffin: “Friend” ;)

Orson: Of course we believe you.

Art: Nothing friendlier than a suck and fuck.





15





Payne


I close out of the chat with a short laugh. I should have known better than to expect those dumbasses to help me. My back is prickling with sweat as I climb out of the car I’m detailing. The fans in the warehouse are rotating above, but they’re doing fuck all to reach the ground.

“You look happy,” Ford says, holding out a bottle of water.

I accept it with a grateful smile. “Mostly fine, just dealing with annoying friends who like to give me shit.”

“Let me guess, Art?”

I grin at him. “No idea how you picked that.”

“What’s he giving you shit about?”

“The guy I’m staying with—”

“Beau Rickshaw?”

“Yeah, him. He has a date this weekend, and because he’s nervous, I thought I might take him on a practice one.”

Ford eyes me but doesn’t say anything.

I shake my head. “The more I talk about it, the dumber it sounds.”

“Not dumb at all. You’re helping a friend. It’s admirable.”

“Thank you. That’s what I’m going for.”

“You got the hots for him?”

Why do people keep asking that? I level Ford with a stare, but he just chuckles.

“It’s a fair question. You’re a good-looking guy, he’s a good-looking guy … you both live together …”

“He’s my brother’s friend.”

“Ain’t Marty straight?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the issue? If he hasn’t slept with him, it’s fair game.”

“No, it’s … I’m going through a divorce—it’s all I can focus on.” Though, since hooking up with Beau, I haven’t given Kyle a second thought.

He rubs at the sweat on his forehead with an old rag. “Can’t imagine how hard that is. I’m here if you need anything.”

I eye him. “Do you have any date ideas?”

“Something from the heart is always a good plan. Or something that shows you’ve put in effort. Just taking someone out for dinner is … impersonal. Good for people you don’t know, but for someone you’ve known most of your life, a little effort can lead to a big payoff.”

What do I know about Beau? Well, other than his work compulsion and keeping weird hours. The way he says things without thinking sometimes. How he needs to wind down when his brain starts going too fast and gets hyperfocused over some things while being completely absentminded over others. He likes seeing the sky …

“Maybe we could do something outside?”

“Under the stars? Romantic.”

“Like a picnic.”

Ford claps me on the shoulder. “Sounds good to me. Eating, talking, and fucking under the stars.”

“Except for that last thing,” I say dryly, even though it’s an appealing thought.

“Pity. There’re a few guys who’d love to lock that one up, but Beau’s never given anyone much of a chance. Maybe this weekend’s guy is the one?”

No, Lee better not be.

I try to ignore the way that thought hurts. “Doubt it, but we’ll see.”

“Either way, Beau’s lucky to have a friend like you. I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not until I leave work that afternoon that I realize that might not be possible though. Heavy, dark clouds are hanging low over Kilborough, and by the time I duck into the store to pick up what I had planned for our picnic, it’s already raining.

Well, shit.

What the hell do I do now?

Dinner at home? It’ll seem like I haven’t tried at all.

For some reason, that thought irritates me. Sure, this is a low-key nondate, but … maybe Art was onto something. Maybe I want Beau remembering tonight while he’s out this weekend, and I’d like my very much nondate to at least measure up.

Surely, a nighttime picnic would have done that.

I stand under the store’s awning, watching the rain come down, while I try to think of an idea.

Maybe …

Maybe we don’t need to be outside for me to give him the sky.

I jog to my car before pulling out my phone to call my brother.

“Hey,” Marty answers. “What are you doing?”

“Organizing dinner. Listen …” I rattle off what I’m looking for, and even though Marty isn’t happy with me not answering his questions on why, he lets me borrow everything I need.

Thank fuck for having nieces.

I’m more than prepared to throw Beau out of the apartment for an hour when I get home, except the place is dark and still like it normally is while he’s in bed. I get to work, ears strained for any noise so I can intercept him if he’s up before I’m finished here. The whole time I’m getting things ready, there’s an unsettled feeling low in my gut. Almost like nerves. Almost like excitement.

I also have a very good hunch I know where these nerves are coming from, and acknowledging it the night before he goes on a date with another guy isn’t a smart move.