Just One of the Guys(48)

A minute later, Trevor knocks. “Here. Is this what you were talking about?” He hands me a bottle of Clorox Clean-Up.

“This will do. Thanks, Trev. You’re a lifesaver.” I close the door again, then yank it open. “Did you tell Ryan that I had to take a call?”

“Yes,” Trevor says, his eyes wandering down to The Stain.

“Great.” I close the door again, aim the spray bottle at my breast and pull the trigger. Nothing comes out. “Goddamn it!” My voice echoes off the tile walls.

“You okay?” Trevor’s still on the other side of the door.

Twisting the nozzle around to the spray position, I try again. Nothing. “I can’t get it to work, Trev.”

“Here,” Trevor says, pushing open the door. “Let me try.”

He stands in front of me, takes the bottle from my hand and studies it. “You just have to turn this to unlock it,” he says. He slides his hand under my blouse. “Sorry,” he mutters as his knuckles brush against me. His glance flicks to mine, then back down. My mouth dries up. Every part of me buzzes with lust. My knees are pudding. I swallow. Oh, Trevor, do that again. He pulls the shirt away from me a little and tries the nozzle.

I can feel the warmth from his hand, which is just about an inch from my skin. From the chilly nipple. I lick my lips, wanting to ignore the fact that Trevor’s hand is under my shirt—it doesn’t mean anything, he’s just helping me—but damn it! Trevor’s hand is under my shirt!

“Okay. Close your eyes,” he says.

I obey, my eyes fluttering to a close. I can feel my cheeks burning.

Trevor pulls the trigger. Nothing.

“Huh,” Trevor says, frowning first at the nozzle, then the stain.

“You need to squeeze it harder,” I rasp, my knees shaking.

He looks up. “Squeeze what, exactly?” he asks, grinning.

“The nozzle, Trev!” My voice comes out louder than I expect, bouncing off the tile walls. “Come on! Squeeze harder!”

“I’m squeezing, Chas!”

“Maybe I should duck in a stall, take off my shirt and we can do it that way,” I suggest, running a hand through my hair.

There’s a little squeak from the doorway, which is partially open. An older woman is frozen in horror, staring at us with her mouth open.

“We’re a little busy here,” Trevor says. She flees, her pink jacket flapping behind her.

That’s it. I’m laughing so hard it just comes out as a breathy wheeze. I stagger back against the sink, clapping a hand over my breast. Trevor covers his eyes with his free hand, laughing too, a wonderful, unabashed, utterly happy sound that makes my heart swell.

“Shit, Trevor,” I choke out. “Maybe I should just leave through the back door.”

“No, no,” he manages, calming down. He wipes his eyes with his hand, smiling at me. “We can do this. You’re on a date with a nice guy, and we don’t want to blow it. Don’t worry, Chas. We’ll get it.” He unscrews the entire nozzle from the bottle, pours a little Clorox on a paper towel and bends over to dab at my blouse. “I had no idea stain removal could be so much fun,” he murmurs, his mouth pulling up at the corner.

My grin fades. I want him to say, Sure, let’s go. I’ll just tell Angela I had to run, and you and I can get a pizza and go back to my place. Instead, he wants my date with Ryan to work. Bastard. Jerk. Prince. Does he have to be such a Boy Scout?

“There,” Trevor says. “See? The green is just about gone. It looks pretty good. Just dry off a little, and you’ll be fine.” He straightens up and smiles. I can see into the depths of his eyes, those lovely warm hot-fudge eyes.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice a little strained.

“You’re welcome,” he answers, his voice lowering. He doesn’t say anything more for three full heartbeats. Then he steps back and the moment is gone.

I clear my throat. “You’re the best, Trevor. If the firefighting thing doesn’t work out, you could always open a laundromat or something.”

It’s lame, but he smiles. “Hey, Angela’s great, by the way. Really nice.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s so nice.”

“Okay. Have a good night.” He turns and leaves the women’s room.

I finish up. My breast is damp but no longer green, and after a minute scrubbing with paper towels, my anatomy is no longer quite so obvious. I wash my hands and sigh, looking at myself in the mirror. “Ryan Darling,” I murmur. “Ryan. My boyfriend’s a doctor, actually. Hello. This is my husband, Ryan. He’s great. So thoughtful. So smart. And have you ever seen such cheekbones? You’re telling me.”

When I return to my seat, I find that I’m more than able to ignore Trevor, and if I see him smiling in my direction out of the corner of my eye, I hardly even notice.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“SO WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” Ernesto asks, gazing down at me with concern.

“I was struck by lightning,” I groan. Peeking up from between my lashes, I see Ernesto struggle not to laugh.

“Are you in any pain?” he asks.

“Yes. Incredible pain,” I murmur. “It hurts all over. And my eyes are bleeding. Please help me.”

Ernesto snorts and inflates the blood pressure cuff so it tightens around my arm. He releases the valve and waits…“A hundred and two over fifty? Is that possible?” he asks, frowning at the dial.