o’clock. Can you meet me here three-ish?”
Bill scratched at his chin and then nodded.
Jane hopped up, gently pulling off the loose glove protecting her damaged hand. Then she snapped off the fitted one from her right hand. She twisted the gloves into a ball, tossed them into a trash bin wired to the stairs’ handrail, and dusted off her bottom.
“Well, let’s see how Aida’s doing. She probably could use help.”
Tim shook his head.
“What?” Jane’s voice was almost alarmed.
“You’re amazing.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, yes, yes, I am. Thanks for noticing.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me, too,” she said and then laughed and clapped his shoulder as they headed back inside.
He shook his head again, feeling his heart beat spike.
“I wouldn’t have cleaned up that old drunk’s puke,” Alphie muttered behind them.
Jane stopped and turned. “Oh, come on. Everyone throws up sometimes. Think how bad that would feel, throwing up in place you just mustered up the courage to go to for a first time, in front of a bunch of people you don’t know.”
“He didn’t feel bad. He didn’t even apologize. Disgusting,” Aphie groused.
Jane frowned, but her voice was soft. “I’m sure this is just one more incident in a long list he feels badly about. A person gets numb to survive. And sure, it’s unfortunate it happened in the dining room, but it was what it was.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And by the way,” Jane added, resting her hand on Alphie’s shoulder, too, so she was holding both Tim and him. “Thanks for thinking to bring fruit. His body could use the vitamin C.”
Jealousy surged through Tim. Well, actually, not jealousy exactly. He didn’t begrudge Alphie the affection, but he wanted to believe the way Jane touched him was something more than the friendly gesture she extended to Alphie.
“You are deluded, man,” he muttered to himself. “Seriously deluded. What do you have to offer someone like Jane?”
9
Jane tapped her foot nervously and surveyed the hallway, as Heber, the landlord, knocked on the door to apartment 203. The building was immaculate and smelled very lightly of a lemon cleaner. There was a sound of movement in the apartment, but no one came to the door. The landlord knocked again.
Jane ran through the details Heber had given over the phone. Stacking washer and dryer in closet off bathroom. Fresh paint and new laminate flooring throughout. Utilities, plus Wi-Fi and basic cable included—
“Sorry, just a second. I’ll be right there.” The voice that came from somewhere behind the door was muffled, but Jane would’ve recognized it anywhere. Tim. She was looking at Tim’s apartment? Where was he moving?
The door opened and Tim was there, pulling a tank top over his washboard abs. He hadn’t noticed her standing behind Heber yet, and Jane couldn’t help gawking. My, the boy was built nicely. And now maybe she understood a bit about why he was self-conscious of his tattoos. The left half of his body was mostly clear, but his right side, chest to hip, back and shoulder, plus a complete sleeve, was covered in dark, violent images—pictures that were hard to reconcile with the Tim she knew.
Heber moved into the small entranceway.
Tim glanced Jane’s way, and his eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Jane.”
“In the flesh,” she said and then broke off flustered because it was a stupid thing to say when Tim was wearing nothing but boxers and a tank top.
He looked down at himself and the tips of his ears reddened. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was out late last night. Totally forgot Heber had arranged a viewing.”
Heber was pointing out features in the small apartment, but Jane only had eyes for the personal details. A gorgeous, huge, black drum kit and an equally gorgeous stereo system took up most of the living room.
“I didn’t know you were looking for a place.”
Jane shrugged and smoothed her hand along the back of
Bill scratched at his chin and then nodded.
Jane hopped up, gently pulling off the loose glove protecting her damaged hand. Then she snapped off the fitted one from her right hand. She twisted the gloves into a ball, tossed them into a trash bin wired to the stairs’ handrail, and dusted off her bottom.
“Well, let’s see how Aida’s doing. She probably could use help.”
Tim shook his head.
“What?” Jane’s voice was almost alarmed.
“You’re amazing.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, yes, yes, I am. Thanks for noticing.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me, too,” she said and then laughed and clapped his shoulder as they headed back inside.
He shook his head again, feeling his heart beat spike.
“I wouldn’t have cleaned up that old drunk’s puke,” Alphie muttered behind them.
Jane stopped and turned. “Oh, come on. Everyone throws up sometimes. Think how bad that would feel, throwing up in place you just mustered up the courage to go to for a first time, in front of a bunch of people you don’t know.”
“He didn’t feel bad. He didn’t even apologize. Disgusting,” Aphie groused.
Jane frowned, but her voice was soft. “I’m sure this is just one more incident in a long list he feels badly about. A person gets numb to survive. And sure, it’s unfortunate it happened in the dining room, but it was what it was.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And by the way,” Jane added, resting her hand on Alphie’s shoulder, too, so she was holding both Tim and him. “Thanks for thinking to bring fruit. His body could use the vitamin C.”
Jealousy surged through Tim. Well, actually, not jealousy exactly. He didn’t begrudge Alphie the affection, but he wanted to believe the way Jane touched him was something more than the friendly gesture she extended to Alphie.
“You are deluded, man,” he muttered to himself. “Seriously deluded. What do you have to offer someone like Jane?”
9
Jane tapped her foot nervously and surveyed the hallway, as Heber, the landlord, knocked on the door to apartment 203. The building was immaculate and smelled very lightly of a lemon cleaner. There was a sound of movement in the apartment, but no one came to the door. The landlord knocked again.
Jane ran through the details Heber had given over the phone. Stacking washer and dryer in closet off bathroom. Fresh paint and new laminate flooring throughout. Utilities, plus Wi-Fi and basic cable included—
“Sorry, just a second. I’ll be right there.” The voice that came from somewhere behind the door was muffled, but Jane would’ve recognized it anywhere. Tim. She was looking at Tim’s apartment? Where was he moving?
The door opened and Tim was there, pulling a tank top over his washboard abs. He hadn’t noticed her standing behind Heber yet, and Jane couldn’t help gawking. My, the boy was built nicely. And now maybe she understood a bit about why he was self-conscious of his tattoos. The left half of his body was mostly clear, but his right side, chest to hip, back and shoulder, plus a complete sleeve, was covered in dark, violent images—pictures that were hard to reconcile with the Tim she knew.
Heber moved into the small entranceway.
Tim glanced Jane’s way, and his eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Jane.”
“In the flesh,” she said and then broke off flustered because it was a stupid thing to say when Tim was wearing nothing but boxers and a tank top.
He looked down at himself and the tips of his ears reddened. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was out late last night. Totally forgot Heber had arranged a viewing.”
Heber was pointing out features in the small apartment, but Jane only had eyes for the personal details. A gorgeous, huge, black drum kit and an equally gorgeous stereo system took up most of the living room.
“I didn’t know you were looking for a place.”
Jane shrugged and smoothed her hand along the back of
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