27
Buzz
"Is Lola single?"
Howie asks, helping himself to another one of the delicious lobster roll burgers she made as the three of us sit on the creaky old wooden floor in his master, taking a break from painting.
Court and I are helping my brother move into his new place.
All the big items were handled by the movers, so Court had a great idea to drive over to Aubuchon Hardware and pick up some paint samples after Howie said he needed to do something about the hideous wallpaper in the master.
Howie loved the burnt terracotta, so we've spent the afternoon stripping the walls and rolling on the first coat of paint.
"She is,"
Court answers, chewing thoughtfully.
"Always has been as far as I know. It's sad. She's such a great person."
Howie lifts the burger.
"And an amazing chef. How come she never found anyone?"
Court shrugs.
"Not sure. I guess her work is her life. I can't remember a single day when she wasn't at the inn. Even on her days off, she'd come in for a bit just to prepare something or check on deliveries."
"That's dedication," I say.
"And what about you two?"
Howie gets up and rummages through the food carrier, on the hunt for more food even though he's scoffed down more than Court and I have combined.
"When are you finally going to get your shit together for real?"
The dumb ape has his back to us, so he can't see the shocked look on my face, nor the bright-red blush making its way up Court's neck, only stopping when it reaches his trimmed beard.
Howie spins around, a slider in each paw, and looks between us.
"What? Did I say the quiet part out loud?"
"Howard,"
I growl, a warning for him to shut the hell up.
"Oh, come on. It's obvious. I'm not saying anything new, am I?"
He looks at Court, Court turns to me, and I… I don't know what to do. I'm used to people making comments here and there, or Cyrus and Scooter throwing in the occasional quip, but something about Howie's question hits differently. It's not coming from someone in town, and he wasn't saying it jokingly so we could brush it off easily. He meant it.
His phone rings.
"It's my agent. I need to take this."
His lips stretch into a grin.
"Please don't fuck in my bedroom before I do. In fact, please don't fuck in here ever."
"We wouldn't,"
I grunt, my jaw aching from how tight I've been clenching it.
"Bullshit. Court has been eyeing off your muscles all fucking day."
And with that, he steps out of the room to take the call.
The redness has spread to Court's cheeks now as he walks over to the window.
Has he been checking me out all day? I hadn't noticed. Apart from asking over breakfast if I'd be wearing the overalls minus a shirt again like when we painted the inn last week, I didn't think he paid any attention to my clothes or my appearance.
Ever.
So why isn't he laughing off Howie's stupid comment?
"Ignore him,"
I say, walking up beside him.
"He's an idiot who doesn't know what he's talking about."
Court stays frozen, staring straight ahead. I let a few seconds pass…until it starts getting freaky. "Court?"
He exhales through his nose and keeps his gaze fixed at a point somewhere in the distance as he says.
"Howie may be an idiot, but he did clock me. I have been checking you out. Thought I was being discreet but looks like I was wrong."
"Why would you be checking me out?"
He spins to face me, dropping his gaze to my arms.
"Have you looked in a mirror? You're hot. These guns"—he skims a finger over my bicep, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake—"are insane. You’re not just attractive, Buzz, you're stupid hot."
My mouth falls open.
The words sound so strange coming from Court. We've never called each other hot before. Or stupid hot.
Court looks uncomfortable, scratching his arm as his brows bunch together tightly, his face still red.
"Yeah, well, you're hot, too."
"You don't have to say that just because I did."
"No, I mean it. You are. You have a great body, you dress super stylishly, and your facial expression never gives anything away. See? Totally hot. In an uptight way."
That draws a small smile out of him. "Thanks."
I cock my head.
"Why were you checking me out?"
"Something about you in overalls. Think I just discovered a new turn-on."
"Is that why you told me not to put on a shirt? To see these better?"
I lift my arms, clench my fists, and give my bestie a gun show.
He sucks in an audible breath and mutters.
"Jesus Christ."
"Wow. Who knew?"
I chuckle.
His eyes flutter shut.
"And that voice,"
he murmurs.
"My voice?"
"Yeah," he huffs.
"So fucking deep."
I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us, and hook my thumb under his chin.
His eyes drift open.
"Buzz? What are you doing?"
Something I've fantasized about doing for so many years but have never had the balls to try.
As if pulled by an invisible force, my head tilts forward. A storm is brewing in his green eyes, darkened by…desire? Concern? Wanting me to stop?… Wanting me to keep going?
"Good news. My agent says I can— Whoa. Shit, sorry."
Howie barrels back into the room, and we tear apart. I run a hand through my hair.
"You're fine. We were just looking at paint samples for the other rooms."
Howie grins, lifting his chin.
"Uh, Buzz?"
He points to the corner of the room.
"The paint samples are over there."