forgetting about my swollen fingers.
Barrett’s blue eyes went wide as if he’d envisioned his head in my fist instead of the can. “Bad day?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. And what the hell are you doing? Or did you not hear me mention that she was married?”
“Yeah, to a humongous asshole.” He pointed at me, and I noticed that most of the tremble was gone. “Your words, not mine. Besides, I like to be helpful.”
My rumbling laugh startled him, assuring me that he was still slightly on edge. “Since when are you helpful?”
He lifted his arms and rested his hands behind his head. “Always— as long as a cute girl is involved.”
“Then be helpful and clean this mess up. I’m going out to lift weights.”
“You’re definitely not cute enough,” Barrett called to me as I walked out the back door.
***
A grueling session of weights was always a stress reliever, but it hadn’t dulled my senses when it came to Taylor. A few seconds in the same room with her and it was as if I’d held her in my arms and tasted her lips. I couldn’t seem to pile on enough weights or do enough reps to push her from my head.
A rhythmic pounding on the kitchen wall greeted me as I grabbed a paper towel to wipe my face. It continued. I stepped into the living room. Barrett was sitting on the coffee table amongst his collection of litter throwing an old tennis ball against the wall. It had left a nice mark where he’d managed to hit the same exact spot numerous times. He’d been a talented pitcher in high school, but he’d never had enough self-discipline to continue in the sport.
“You’re leaving a fucking mark on the wall.” He’d only been here a week, but I’d been living on my own for two years and his presence was getting on my nerves fast.
He ignored me and threw the ball again but I snatched it from mid air.
He leaned back on his hands and an empty chip bag floated to the floor, leaving a nice shower of salt on the rug. “What the hell am I going to do now, Jimmy? I have no diploma or job. I was making good money on the fishing boat. It was hard work but it paid well. Don’t know what to do now.”
“You could go to night school and get your diploma.”
He snorted a laugh. “I’m not going to sit in any fucking classroom ever again.”
I tossed the ball up and down on my palm. “You could dress real sexy and stand on the street corner. Maybe some rich woman will pick you up like in that Pretty Woman movie.”
He wasn’t amused. “I’m serious. I’m screwed.”
“You screwed yourself, Rett.”
He got up to retrieve the trash he’d dumped on the floor. “Maybe I should get back into baseball. The coach always thought I had big potential.”
I collected up the empty cans. “I believe his exact words were ‘too bad about Barrett, he had big potential.’ You screwed up that opportunity too.”
He swept up the blankets and threw them on the couch. “This little chat is a big boost to my confidence.” He looked at me. “Maybe I should just get back into drugs. Then I can sell—”
His last word was sucked away by a gasp as I took three steps across the room and pinned him against the wall. My forearm pressed against his chest, and he looked as scared as I’d ever seen him. The strain of the day— hell, of the whole goddamn week had gotten to me.
“I love you, Rett, but if you ever get hooked again, I will throw you into the fucking street.”
He blinked at me a few times. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Jimmy. I wouldn’t let you down like that. I was only kidding.”
I stared down at him and then I dropped my arm. It had been an overreaction, but at the same time, scaring the shit out of him was probably a good thing. I nodded. “Let me talk to Jason about hiring you to work part time at the shop. We could use an extra pair of hands.”
“That’d be great.” There was still a slight tremble in his voice. He began cleaning the rest of the room, a bonus side effect of my
Barrett’s blue eyes went wide as if he’d envisioned his head in my fist instead of the can. “Bad day?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. And what the hell are you doing? Or did you not hear me mention that she was married?”
“Yeah, to a humongous asshole.” He pointed at me, and I noticed that most of the tremble was gone. “Your words, not mine. Besides, I like to be helpful.”
My rumbling laugh startled him, assuring me that he was still slightly on edge. “Since when are you helpful?”
He lifted his arms and rested his hands behind his head. “Always— as long as a cute girl is involved.”
“Then be helpful and clean this mess up. I’m going out to lift weights.”
“You’re definitely not cute enough,” Barrett called to me as I walked out the back door.
***
A grueling session of weights was always a stress reliever, but it hadn’t dulled my senses when it came to Taylor. A few seconds in the same room with her and it was as if I’d held her in my arms and tasted her lips. I couldn’t seem to pile on enough weights or do enough reps to push her from my head.
A rhythmic pounding on the kitchen wall greeted me as I grabbed a paper towel to wipe my face. It continued. I stepped into the living room. Barrett was sitting on the coffee table amongst his collection of litter throwing an old tennis ball against the wall. It had left a nice mark where he’d managed to hit the same exact spot numerous times. He’d been a talented pitcher in high school, but he’d never had enough self-discipline to continue in the sport.
“You’re leaving a fucking mark on the wall.” He’d only been here a week, but I’d been living on my own for two years and his presence was getting on my nerves fast.
He ignored me and threw the ball again but I snatched it from mid air.
He leaned back on his hands and an empty chip bag floated to the floor, leaving a nice shower of salt on the rug. “What the hell am I going to do now, Jimmy? I have no diploma or job. I was making good money on the fishing boat. It was hard work but it paid well. Don’t know what to do now.”
“You could go to night school and get your diploma.”
He snorted a laugh. “I’m not going to sit in any fucking classroom ever again.”
I tossed the ball up and down on my palm. “You could dress real sexy and stand on the street corner. Maybe some rich woman will pick you up like in that Pretty Woman movie.”
He wasn’t amused. “I’m serious. I’m screwed.”
“You screwed yourself, Rett.”
He got up to retrieve the trash he’d dumped on the floor. “Maybe I should get back into baseball. The coach always thought I had big potential.”
I collected up the empty cans. “I believe his exact words were ‘too bad about Barrett, he had big potential.’ You screwed up that opportunity too.”
He swept up the blankets and threw them on the couch. “This little chat is a big boost to my confidence.” He looked at me. “Maybe I should just get back into drugs. Then I can sell—”
His last word was sucked away by a gasp as I took three steps across the room and pinned him against the wall. My forearm pressed against his chest, and he looked as scared as I’d ever seen him. The strain of the day— hell, of the whole goddamn week had gotten to me.
“I love you, Rett, but if you ever get hooked again, I will throw you into the fucking street.”
He blinked at me a few times. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Jimmy. I wouldn’t let you down like that. I was only kidding.”
I stared down at him and then I dropped my arm. It had been an overreaction, but at the same time, scaring the shit out of him was probably a good thing. I nodded. “Let me talk to Jason about hiring you to work part time at the shop. We could use an extra pair of hands.”
“That’d be great.” There was still a slight tremble in his voice. He began cleaning the rest of the room, a bonus side effect of my
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