10. Zeth #2
Sunshine caught a streak in a high corner, so I dipped my rag in the bucket, squeezed brownish water out, and tiptoed to get the spot.
When long drips slid down the glass, I followed them with the rag until I focused out the window again to see the loveliest auburn curls peeking out from the front of a gray cap.
My heart lurched in my throat. It really was Amby.
Under the brim and gold-rimmed glasses, sharp brown eyes met mine through the window, and my breath caught at how gorgeous he looked today.
Nothing different, but different all the same.
Maybe it was the way his appreciative gaze roamed my body and raised arm while I remained in the window.
I peeked at myself to see what he saw. Water running along my bare arm and clinging shirt. Old clothes for cleaning. Damn, I was a mess. Backing up, I tossed the rag and wiped my hands on my backside, then ran them through my hair, hating how shaky I felt after just one glance.
Another glance proved he was still there. Even worse, he started for the door.
My pulse raced. What did Amby want? To talk?
To reminisce? To threaten me away from his future wife?
Ugh, none of it mattered. Talking was a pointless activity.
We both had goals to marry the same woman, and I was determined to win, despite how horribly I flirted with Amby while we changed yesterday.
Hiding was also pointless. He already saw me, yet nothing could convince my feet to move forward on the dingy old floorboards while he knocked. I stood quite frozen. Amby squinted at me through the entry’s side window with confusion.
There was no help for it, Amby wanted to visit, for whatever reason. I made my way to the door—damn myself for pitying a rich boy—and opened it.
Amby’s hand was up midair, ready to knock again. He lowered it, his gaze landing on me, and I hoped he didn’t see a complete mess. Or how lost for words he made me. His lips twitched, but he remained stout. When our eyes locked, he blinked, waiting for a sign to speak.
I nodded in greeting, and his words rushed out, “Afternoon. I was delivering statements when I found this one.” He cleared his throat and shuffled through his bag before pulling up an envelope with our old City address and Mum’s name, Nora Washer.
Her name was crossed out and written over with mine and the laundry’s address.
A hand stamp showed the letter had traveled there and back again, probably after we left.
I accepted the thing and rubbed the print before turning it over to open.
Inside, a statement dated last month listed the laundry’s yearly property tax, a hefty amount. I never thought about it, but I guess it made sense that Mum paid the taxes each year after Uncle and Memaw passed. She was the last adult Washer. Now it was up to me, but how could I possibly pay?
I couldn’t. So what did that mean? Steep interest rates? Stopping me from selling my property? Losing the laundry completely? I folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, pretending I never saw the damn thing. “Thank you, is that all?”
“Um…” Amby pulled on the strap of his bag. “How is Millie doing? I wanted to check on her.”
“She’s surviving,” I answered with a scowl. “Do you make personal calls with all your deliveries?”
“No, only yours.” He gave a tight smile.
It was kind of him to ask after Millie. It was also annoyingly cute how he stood on my stoop and kept clutching his bag strap. He looked like a puppy.
Despite my better judgment, I stepped back against the door to hold it open and waved him in with grandeur.
“Please forgive my poor manners for not offering refreshments, but my matching tea sets and silver services are still boxed up,” I teased, praying he would take my joke as the truth.
“And I hear there’s a statue murderer on the loose, so those are safely hidden too. ”
He gave an adorable little laugh as he stepped inside and glanced around the empty laundry.
I disliked how he must be seeing spiderwebs in the corners while his own house was a spotless museum. Amby lived in a mansion, while I used to sleep in the kitchen above us. There was nothing to be done about his witnessing my poverty in plain sight. I should make this short.
“It’s kind of you to visit Millie, but she’s upstairs in the bedroom. It’s not proper—”
“Is that Amby?” Millie’s booming voice interrupted me, and I rolled my eyes. From the heavens came a scuffle of steps that shouldn’t be happening at all. Millie was making her way to the staircase which she yelled down from a moment later. “I heard someone knocking.”
“What part of ‘keep your leg raised’ do you not understand?” I boomed back at her, not caring that Amby flinched next to me, or that I was acting like riff-raff. “Now get your ass back in that chair.”
Millie gasped dramatically. “Zeth, such language! I thought you were a dandy gentleman.”
Oh, she was lucky to have a floor between us. I wanted to toss her into a corner until dinner.
Amby didn’t help my embarrassment. He crossed his arms and said, “I prefer it when you’re not a gentleman.”
Then he winked at me.
That racy wink gave me goosebumps, and I shivered at his suggestive words. There was no denying the attraction that still lingered between us.
What was he doing? Why was he flirting with me? Maybe he enjoyed the way I undressed him yesterday and couldn’t forget that spark either. Maybe he wanted a brief fling with me before one of us committed to courting.
What a thought. I rubbed the goosebumps off my arm and scowled.
I wanted to flirt back, but that was the old me resurfacing, the kid who wanted Amby’s attention from across a classroom.
The kid who did anything Amby asked, be it jumping into a freezing lake or doing his math homework when the lessons got too tough for him.
“Well?” Millie yelled again with a whine in her tone. “Why so quiet? Are you two smooching or something? I’m bored and dying here, so come up already.”
Amby laughed and pushed up his glasses. Before I could explain my sister’s lack of decorum to Amby, he hung his cap and dropped his bag on the floor before moving from my side.
He strolled right to the bottom of the stairs, making himself at home. I followed to deposit the tax letter on the counter and joined him in the dim light of the dusty backroom. He held onto the rail to call up the stairwell, “Hello, Millie, dearest. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
She stood at the top and shrugged. “I’m stuck with my brother, so… it’s going as well as can be expected.”
“Poor thing. Has he been neglecting you to clean?” Amby turned and nudged me playfully. I deepened my scowl, not liking this turn of events at all. Amby shouldn’t be here, yelling like part of the family. He turned back to Millie. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Amby was out of line, but Millie lit up. I could see it from here. She gushed, “You can help Zeth carry the dresser downstairs. He’s far too weak to lift the little thing all by his lonesome. Watching you both struggle with it will be fine entertainment for me.”
“She’s calling you weak too,” I pointed out to Amby in a whisper in case he didn’t speak the spoiled-brat-sister language.
He caught my eye with a nod before answering, “Lifting furniture is one of my daily pastimes. I think I can handle it.”
“Excellent! Come on up.”
He lifts furniture daily?
I pondered that as Millie moved away from the stairs. I didn’t want him to linger, plus, he was dressed real nice in a suit with crisp, ironed pants. Carrying an old dresser was bound to ruin his fancy duds.
He started up, but I caught his arm to stop him. “This will get you dirty. You don’t have to do it.”
Amby regarded me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not worried about clothes, Zeth.”
Of course not, he had the money to replace anything he damaged. I felt all the more embarrassed by my shabby attire, so I certainly didn’t want him to see our sparse bedroom. My only option now was to nod my head sideways and grant Amby permission upstairs.
Amby squinted at me for a brief moment while I feared he might be reading me like a book, but he only took a readying breath and proceeded up the steps.
I followed behind him and couldn’t help but notice how nicely those fancy pants fit Amby’s tight little tush.
When we were teens, we never went beyond using our mouths or hands in the front, but I’d heard what sex between men could entail, and exploring Amby’s ass held a lot of appeal.
His pink nipples and narrow chest were tempting enough, not to mention how that trail of dark red hair at his navel had haunted me all night long, so maybe it was better not to stare at his ass.
When we reached the top, Amby stopped at the doorway notches, because of course he would, and rubbed his bruised thumb against my written name with a grin that brought back my annoyance.
I slapped his hand away, and he grunted with surprise.
“I was short , everyone knows. Move on.” My grumble had enough drama to make Millie proud. It also had Amby chuckling, so I nudged him into the room with two hands to his back. And I might have noticed how firm he was.
“I always liked this room,” Amby said, looking around. “Your mother kept it decorated so warm and cozy. She was the kindest woman I’ve ever known. I’m truly sorry to hear of her passing.”
His eyes lingered on me briefly before darting to Millie.
I blinked and nodded, at a fucking loss for words. I didn’t know why it meant so much that Amby praised Mum. I cleared my throat and pinched my nose to the bone. Thankfully, that kept the tears back.
Needing something to say that wasn’t about my dead mum, I pointed into the room. “The dresser’s, um, over there. Let’s get it into the shop window already.”
No one remarked upon my gruff voice as I walked over to it and patted the top, but I could feel their concern, so I got to work removing the top drawer to make the dresser lighter.