The Feel Good Factor(17)

“Were they interested in helping you find your way to the hardware store or sort out your utility bill, or was it making sure you don’t get snatched up by some other lady in town first?”

“If that’s what they were after, it’d be a losing cause.”

“Why’s that?”

I tap my chest. “Single as the day is long.”

He regards me quizzically. “Does that mean you’re single and have a parade of ladies at your door every night?”

“No way. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But that’s not my style. Besides, I’ve been pretty damn busy with work and taking care of my nieces and nephew.”

“That’s good of you to help out with them.”

“I love those rug rats. Molly, Devon, and Travis are fucking awesome. And my sister’s the best. We were always close, but after our parents died a few years ago, we’ve been even tighter.”

“Sorry to hear about your parents.”

“Thanks, but honestly, it wasn’t a big surprise. They were in their late seventies. They were older when they had us. My mom was forty-one when Jodie was born and forty-six when I surprised them both.”

“Damn, that’s impressive.”

“It is, but I still won’t be imitating them. I don’t plan on procreating any time soon.”

“I will definitely drink to that,” Shaw says, and we tip our glasses.

“To keeping it wrapped up.”

He’s quiet for a minute, like he’s thinking of something. I’m not one to break the silence, especially since a ball game is on and the bases are loaded. When the batter flies out, Shaw returns to the conversation. “Think you’re going to take any of those ladies from your sister’s booth up on their offers to”—he sketches air quotes—“help?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, I’m not interested in dating right now either.”

“I hear you. Relationships can be a bitch.”

“Especially after my last one,” I say, darkly.

“Yeah?”

“She was bad news.”

“What’s the story there? Or is it an I’d-rather-not-say thing?”

I appreciate the dude giving me space not to say anything about it. “Let’s just say we had different ideas of commitment. I believed in one-on-one, and she believed it was a multitiered approach involving other people.”

“Ouch.”

I wave a hand. “It was all for the best in the end. But it left me with a bad taste in my mouth.”

A bitter taste, considering how things went south with Katie, my live-in girlfriend, a couple of years ago.

I give him the bare-bones version.

We shared a place in San Francisco and had an ironclad lease for a year.

Trouble was, she had an ironclad interest in the building’s new landlord.

One day I forgot my lunch, and since we’d just finished a call in the neighborhood, I had my partner stop the rig at our place. I ran upstairs, planning to duck inside, grab my lunch bag from the fridge, and go.

Instead, I found Katie on the kitchen table. The landlord was between her legs, having her for lunch.

Yeah, that was fun.

Moving out and finding a new place was even less fun.

Since then, my interest in getting serious has dwindled to less than zero.

The only solace was he jacked her rent through the roof when she dumped him a few months later. I heard through the grapevine that she couldn’t afford to stay and had to move into a one-bedroom with six other people, or something like that.

I take another drink of my beer then set it down. “Anyway, that’s one of the reasons why I’m single. I don’t have time for that shit in my life right now.”

He nods, seemingly pleased with my answer. He scratches his jaw. “Listen, I know you’re looking for a place. I didn’t mention this sooner because I had a few loose ends to tie up, but I have a room above the garage for you. Separate entrance and everything. It even has its own bathroom. Plus, it’s less than a mile from your sister’s house.”

That piques my interest. Shaw’s a good guy, and I wouldn’t mind sharing space with him. I doubt we’d run into each other too much, but if we did, it’d be cool.

He shows me some pics on his phone, and it’s a sweet, spacious finished room above the garage.

Ten minutes later, I’m buying the next round—soda this time, since we both need to drive—and toasting.

He emails me the agreement, and I give my digital John Hancock, initiating a transfer for the first month’s rent. Nothing too fancy in the lease. Just a standard rental arrangement. The best part? Well, the second-best part, after the bed? It’s month by month, and that suits me fine.

I raise a glass to Shaw. “This helps so fucking much.”

All he had to say was “king-size bed above the garage,” and I was sold.

Shaw shakes his head. “Nope. It’s the least I can do.”

When we finish, we head out of the Barking Pug, and he follows me as I ride to my sister’s. I park the bike there, figuring I’ll pick it up tomorrow, then I toss a duffel into the back of Shaw’s truck, and we drive the mile to his home.

It’s . . . well, much prettier than I’d pictured.