Chapter 8 #2
“Uh, hey.” He held up a brown paper bag and two bottles. “I brought you some lunch and some of the lemonade we made last summer.”
This hadn’t even made the top ten of all the things I’d expected.
“You brought me lunch?” I repeated to make sure I’d heard him right.
“I saw your stories and was sure you’d forget to eat. Maddie has AuDHD. We sometimes have to force her to stop working to grab some food or a drink, or”—he shrugged his broad shoulders—“have a wee.”
I huffed. “Well, I’m not saying you’re wrong. Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
“Sure. I also thought you might need some help moving that dresser. It looks heavy.”
“Oh my God, I love you,” I blurted out.
What are you saying, Bright?!
“That’s, uh, thanks, Lew,” I tried to save the moment.
His triangular eyes flattened back against his skull and his tail twitched as he put the food on the coffee table and bent to take his boots off.
“I brought enough so we can eat together if you want,” he muttered.
“That’s a great idea.” I tried for a friendly smile. “Come on.”
Within a few minutes I had divided the thick, steaming stew into two bowls and sat down opposite of Lewis.
“Cheers.” We clinked our lemonade bottles. I read the label that showed a stylised yellow fox curled up in a lemon shape. Clever. Lemon Lore, it read in a handwritten font.
“Lemon Lore,” I read the name on the label out loud. “Citrusy and bold. Each sip tells a story of heritage and craftsmanship. I love that.”
“Yeah, that’s Maddie’s work. We also made the Den you have to try it, it’s so good.
And the Rhubarb Myth, that’s alcohol free as well.
We wanted to try something non-alcoholic, and it’s been a huge hit.
Perla and I—” Lew broke off. “Sorry, I’m rambling. ” He focused on his plate.
“Not at all. That all sounds amazing.” I tried the stew and groaned when the taste exploded in my mouth. “Holy shit, this is so good!”
“Yeah, SweetPea is the best.”
“Okay, hold on.” I took a sip of the tangy lemonade. “Who are Perla and SweetPea?”
“They are my colleagues. Perla works in the brewery with me, and SweetPea is our chef. He’s a grumpy fucker but outstanding in the kitchen.” Lew winked at me.
“Yup. This is the best lamb stew I’ve ever had.”
“The meat is from a friend’s farm not far from here. He’s the local sheep shearer. Duncan Cassidy. Not sure if you know him. He was a year over Ollie and me in school.”
“Yeah, sure. Didn’t he grow up with his grandparents?
His grandfather used to shear our sheep when we still had animals on the farm.
” Alfie Cassidy had always intimidated me.
Ollie had insisted he was a kind man but at nearly seven feet tall and with his bushy beard he’d seemed like a giant to me, and I’d hidden inside the house whenever he came over.
“That’s the one,” he confirmed. “Alfie actually died a couple of months ago.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it came as a surprise.” Lew didn’t elaborate.
We finished our meal in silence, tidied up together (I washed, Lewis dried), and then got to work.
“Okay, Bright. Tell me what you need from me.”
Mind blowing sex that makes my brain shut up?
“Uh, I want to move this dresser”—I indicated a timeless piece made from hardwood—“into the bedroom so I’ll have some more storage in there and also free up some space here.
” I rested my hands on my hips and cocked my head.
“If I move the couch opposite of the fireplace I’ll have a spot for my yoga mat. ”
“Good idea. Just tell me where you want it.”
Stop it, Sinclair, or I’ll bend you over the damn dresser and show you exactly where I want it.
Lew stripped his hoodie off, and I drooled a little on the carpet. This man was a piece of art.
His thick pecs bulged under the faded Lone Fox Distillery merch shirt. My eyes dropped to his tummy.
Phew. You hot thing.
I showed him where I wanted the dresser to go, but before I could lift a finger, he picked it up and hauled it into the bedroom where he placed it on the wall next to the bed.
“Here?” he asked, only a little out of breath.
“Yeah, thanks. That’s perfect.”
“If that’s all it takes to make you happy, I’ll win at being your fake boyfriend.” He grinned down at me.
“Oh, yeah, you do,” I said without thinking and didn’t bother to correct myself. Lewis also helped me move the couch into the right position, and we snapped a quick picture for social media with his thick arm flung around my shoulder.
My knees almost buckled but not from the weight. Lew sweated a little and his musk was the best fucking thing I’d ever smelled. I wanted to stick my face into his pit and lick him there.
I took a step back after I’d taken the picture, and we both observed our day’s work. I still had a pile of rubbish to put into the bin.
“Anything else, Bright?” he asked me, one long canine digging into his lip.
“I think that’s all I can do for today. Thanks for coming over, Lew.”
I heaved a sigh.
“What’s wrong, Noah?”
Our eyes met and I wanted to burrow into them, take the comfort they promised from him.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “It’s just … this place is so ….”
“Bleak?” Lew supplied.
“Yeah. And I don’t even have any spare cash to pick up a bucket of paint, a plaid, or some pillows to make it a little prettier.”
He bridged the distance I’d only just established and palmed my shoulder. His hand was so large it cupped half my neck. I swallowed hard.
“You’ll get there again, Noah. I believe in you.” I closed my eyes and shook my head in exasperation.
“Stop making me cry, Sinclair,” I huffed.