Chapter Eight #2
“Don’t look at me,” Austin said. “This was all Pepa. Naming her after you was obviously the only thing to do.”
Wrapped in Austin’s sweater were three tiny mewling kittens, two orange tabbies and one bedraggled-looking black.
Joe should open his mouth and say We’re not keeping those. At the very least, Put two of those back.
But Pepa hopped over to her bed and sat, tail wagging more than it had at any point since they met her, gaze fixed adoringly on Austin and his precious cargo.
“What?” Joe said weakly.
“Think I know why she picked a fight with a coyote,” Austin said as he knelt to set the kittens down next to Pepa on her bed. “Protecting her adopted children, obviously.”
Two of the skinny, pathetic, damp-looking cats toddled unsteadily out of the sweater and yowled at Pepa, who licked each of them in turn. Joe wasn’t an expert, but they looked scrawny—he doubted their mother was in the picture.
The third cat—the black one—declined to exit the sweater the same way as its siblings and instead turned around and climbed up Austin’s pant leg.
“This isn’t fair,” Joe said as Austin collected the kitten in one big hand and pulled it close to his chest. “You and Pepa ganged up on me.”
Austin fluttered his lashes over dark eyes and held the kitten next to his face. “C’mon, Joe. How would you feel if someone took your kids from you?”
“Mew,” said the black kitten.
Jesus. Fuck, how was Joe supposed to make good financial decisions faced with that cuteness? “Fine. Fine.” He huffed. “But I’m naming these ones.”
“Deal,” Austin said immediately.
“And you get to call Linda and explain we need to know how to look after three tiny cats.”
“Okay,” he agreed placidly.
“And none of them better need a leg amputated unless there’s another rare Beatles album in that Rubbermaid bin.”
“Mew,” said one of the orange kittens, which had rolled off the edge of the bed and was now attacking Joe’s work boot.
“God fucking damn it, that’s adorable,” he sighed, bending to pick it up. “Okay, seriously, call Linda so we can make sure they’re not going to die, because I need your help hanging floor joists if we’re going kitchen shopping on Thursday.”
Linda came over right away. Joe had the distinct impression she was laughing her ass off on the inside, but she let him maintain the illusion that this had been a joint decision.
“They’re not quite old enough to be on their own, but they’ll probably be okay eating softened kitten food.
I’ve got a bag at home from some fosters a few months back you can have and a spare litter box that’ll do until you can get your own.
We’ll do shots when they’re a bit older.
” She stroked the creamsicle one under his chin. “Have you named them yet?”
Joe had spent the forty-five seconds between Austin’s phone call and Linda’s arrival coming up with the most vindictive names possible. “Ozzy,” he said, pointing to the black one. “Dallas.” Creamsicle. “And that one’s Walker Texas Ranger.”
Austin gave him a flat look. “Really? Not Houston?”
“The orange ones are trouble,” Joe said. “The whole internet knows that.”
He didn’t have brain space to defend his naming choice.
He was too busy trying to figure out how to tell Starling, who had laughed in his face when he mentioned they’d gotten a dog and Austin had named it Pepa, that the number of legs in the house had just gone up exponentially.
“Moving in together and adopting a three-legged rescue dog? You’re never beating the U-Haul lesbian allegations, babe. That’s straight out of the playbook.”
Naturally it was another twenty minutes before Austin was any use in the kitchen. Joe spent them on the phone with Starling so she could get the mockery out of her system before he had to see her in person.
“Are you sure you didn’t run off to Vegas and get married without inviting me?”
“I wouldn’t go to Vegas,” Joe protested. “I’d go to Niagara Falls, it’s way closer.”
“But seriously. There’s nothing going on? I know I’m not the target audience, but I know when a guy is hot, Joe. Austin is hot.”
You should see him holding a tiny kitten.
But the cuteness factor changed nothing.
“There’s nothing going on. We’re basically business partners.
You know I don’t like to make the same mistakes twice.
Don’t shit where you eat.” If he hadn’t been dating a coworker, he wouldn’t have had to quit his job and start his own business.
Sure, it had worked out okay in the end, but it had taken work and time and the money he inherited from his grandfather’s death—money he’d intended to put toward a house.
He’d still gotten a house eventually… half a house.
Whatever, that didn’t make it okay.
“I know,” she said softly. “It’s why I worry.”
“Well, please don’t.”
“Okay. But how are you going to divide an undividable dog when you sell?”
Joe had been avoiding that same question for the past few days.
Starling let his silence speak for itself. “Just remember, I’m here if you need me.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Star.”
When Austin finally joined Joe in the kitchen, sans kitten, his curls were a jumbled mess.
He pushed them out of his face as Joe explained what he needed.
As they got positioned to shift the hanger in place, Austin’s hair fell into his eyes once again.
He grumbled quietly and flipped his head to clear his vision, and Joe broke.
Once their hands were free, Joe reached into his pocket for the hair tie he’d started carrying around and passed it over. “Seriously, man, just do us both a favor.”
Austin blinked, then huffed. “Why do you have a hair elastic?” But he took it anyway. With a practiced flip, he slipped it around his wrist, then started finger-combing his curls into order.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but my best friend and one of my kids have long hair. Alex used to as well but cut it shorter.”
“So you can carry around ties for them?”
“It can’t surprise you that they’re all forgetful,” Joe evaded instead of admitting that he didn’t usually keep them in his pocket.
Austin snorted.
Apparently curly-hair ponytails were more involved than straight, Joe thought, as Austin finally seemed satisfied with the placement of his hair and wrapped the tie around it three times.
“So, what’s next?” Austin swiped a too-short curl off his forehead.
“Hm?” Joe had miscalculated. He could not handle Austin with a ponytail.
“What’s the next step with the floor?”
“Right.” Joe shook his head to clear it. “We need to finish installing hangers, put in the joists, make sure they’re level, and then install the subfloor.”
Austin nodded. Had his neck always been that long?
Two joist hangers later and Joe was certain that he’d made a horrible choice. Every time Austin leaned over to check level, he turned his back to Joe and leaned forward. With his hair tied out of the way, Joe could see his broad shoulders and, upsettingly, his nape.
Why was his nape sexy?
Also, Joe was starting to get specific fantasies about that hair. He’d thought Austin kept it long out of practical reasons, but what if he had a more salacious motive? Joe could picture those beautiful curls tangled around his fingers—
“Joe?” Austin glanced over his shoulder.
“Right.” Joe stepped forward and—good Lord—drilled Austin’s joist into the wood.
By the time they’d finished the joists, Joe was sweating and wondering why DIY was so sexual. Also, he wondered if Austin liked taking it from behind while his top pulled his hair and chewed his neck. Purely as a thought experiment, of course.
They took a break for water and a snack and then pushed forward, hanging some strapping, shoving some insulation bats between the joists, then screwing down the subfloor. Holy crap, this place might actually have a kitchen again someday soon.
Joe had a brief fantasy about it—not a perfect kitchen but a functional one that saw a lot of use, mismatched mugs in the cupboard, everyone with their own favorite.
A table or island big enough for eight or ten, more if they got a little friendly, perfect for birthdays and holidays and graduation parties.
“Hey,” he said before he meant to, “you said you’d installed cabinets before, right?”
“Mmm,” Austin agreed. He was leaning against the wall of the house, head tilted back. His ponytail, squashed against the wall, stuck up around his head like a curly dark halo. He looked exhausted. Joe knew how he felt.
“How fast you think we can finish it?” Joe asked. “I mean, uh. Think we can host Christmas?”
Austin’s eyes opened, fathomless as ever. “I think,” he said after a moment, “we shouldn’t put up cabinets until Starling’s done the wiring in here. But if we’re doing a simple layout and the ReStore has something suitable in stock, yeah, we can probably get the cupboards installed in a day.”
Sweet.
“But let’s go back to the thing where we’re hosting Christmas.”
Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, it’s your house too. I’m not going to, like, kick you out of it—”
“What kind of Christmas are we talking about?”
What did he mean, what kind of Christmas? The kind with people and dinner and presents, obviously.
Except—maybe not obviously. Not if Austin didn’t have any family. Not if he’d grown up in foster care. Not if DeeDee had been his closest friend in the area.
For once, Joe was glad he’d been momentarily tongue-tied.
“Just, you know, dinner. The kids, maybe their parents if they don’t have other plans.
Will’s won’t come, and Gavin’s are divorced, but they get along.
Alex’s new stepdad is cool, and their mom’s sober now.
They’d probably come. Starling, maybe Linda… .”
Austin stared at him. Joe felt like he was being scrutinized. Finally he said, “You know I don’t cook, right? Who’s going to make dinner for, what is that, twelve people?”
“Well, Meg probably won’t come until after dinner if we’re doing it on the twenty-fifth, but I probably have to invite my mom—”
“Jesus,” Austin muttered. “Like I said. Who’s cooking for all these people?”
“I will. You can be my sous chef.” Will and Gavin would probably volunteer to help, and Alex and Starling would each want to bring a dish. “We don’t have to do, like, presents and stuff. I just… I don’t know, I thought it would be nice.”
“It is nice,” Austin agreed, though something in his tone made Joe think it wasn’t that simple.
He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.
“Fuck it. Let’s give it a shot. But we’re going to need more furniture.
Like, there’s nowhere for anyone to sit, for one thing, unless you count the toilet. ”
“I think my mom’s got someone lined up to rent my place,” Joe said, “so I can bring my stuff when I move in. It’s not a lot, but I’ve got a dining table and chairs and a couch and whatever.
It won’t be naked. And I have a Christmas tree.
” He barely spent any time at home anymore anyway, with how much work they had to do here.
Besides, now he had Pepa and the kittens to think about.
Austin shook his head. “Okay, well. Looks like we have our work cut out for us.”