Chapter Seven
Chloe arched her back to ease the ache between her shoulder blades and checked the clock.
The fading light told her it was late afternoon, and the clock confirmed it.
Mondays always flew by, her one true day off of the week, and it seemed she never got as much work done as she hoped.
But she’d managed enough, and after a quick break, would set up to take pictures of the pieces she’d finished.
With any luck she’d be able to get them listed in her online shop before she went to bed, and could allow herself to sleep in a bit tomorrow.
Tuesdays were her long days, eleven to close, and getting a couple of extra hours of sleep meant the difference between a long day and a long, miserable day.
Rising from her worktable, she went to the kitchen for a drink.
She’d lost track of time, and her water bottle had been empty for hours, so she filled a glass and drained it standing at the sink, then filled it again and sipped more slowly.
She was contemplating what to do for dinner—scrambled eggs, the fiscally responsible yet boring choice, or takeout Chinese, the thing she really wanted to eat but shouldn’t spend money on—when her phone buzzed.
She picked it up, saw Gwen was calling, and swiped to answer. “H’lo.”
“Hey,” Gwen said, sounding breathless. “You busy?”
Chloe glanced at her worktable, and the pile of finished jewelry that still needed to be photographed, priced and bagged. “Not really. What’s up?”
“I’m meeting Jesse and Knox at the apartment,” Gwen said. “I have to decide on finishes.”
Chloe’s belly gave a little flip. She hadn’t seen either Knox or Jesse since the encounter at the diner with Sawyer, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Something about it had been…well, weird.
And not just because she’d been sitting there with a sex worker, talking about a threesome, when her dream threesome partners had walked in the door.
Of course it had been weird because of that, but there had been additional weirdness, and it made her feel…well, weird.
“I need a better vocabulary,” she muttered.
“What?” Gwen said.
“Nothing, nothing,” Chloe said. “What were you saying?”
“Well, I’ve decided on the flooring, but I can’t decide on the cabinets or the paint. I need you to help me decide.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Gwen.”
“Come on, please?” Gwen wheedled. “You said you’re not busy.”
“I know, but…” Chloe bit her lip. “I haven’t seen them since the diner.”
“Oh. Not at all?”
“No. They haven’t come into the pub, and I haven’t gone over to check on the reno. It just felt…I don’t know, off.”
“I get that,” Gwen said. “But I really need your opinion. Please?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can zip and right back out,” Gwen said. “Honestly, I just need you for a few minutes. Please?”
Shit. Chloe sighed. “All right. Come here first, though, so we can go over together.”
“You’re the best,” Gwen crowed, and smooching sounds came through the line. “I’m on my way, see you in ten.”
Chloe hung up the phone, then scowled down at the leggings and oversized T-shirt she was wearing. Excellent work-from-home wear, terrible seeing-the-guys-you’re-crushing-on clothes. And her hair was probably a mess, too.
Hating herself for it but too proud not to, she headed to the bedroom to change—but not into that damn pushup bra.
Nine minutes later she opened the door to Gwen, wearing clean leggings and an oversized flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled to the elbows.
It hung open over a plain white T-shirt, under which she wore a comfortable bralette that pushed absolutely nothing anywhere.
She’d fluffed her hair, swiped on some mascara and lip gloss, and called it good.
“Hey.” Gwen leaned in to kiss Chloe’s cheek, her lips chilled from the cold. “Mmm, you’re warm.”
“And you’re not,” Chloe said, noting Gwen’s bright red cheeks and fogging glasses. “Did the heater go out in your car again?”
“Yes, and I’m going to kill that rat fuck mechanic.” Peeling off her gloves, Gwen slapped them on the kitchen counter and glowered. “Nine hundred dollars to fix it, and it lasted two weeks.”
“Want me to sic Roman on him?” Chloe asked.
“Why would I want your older brother to talk to my mechanic?” Gwen wondered.
“He can be very intimidating,” Chloe claimed. “Which is ironic, because normally he’s such a teddy bear.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He is,” Chloe insisted. “His patients love him. Last week he came to Mom’s for dinner with his fingernails painted purple because a little girl on his floor gave him a makeover.”
A smile twitched Gwen’s frozen lips. “Did he also have makeup on?”
“Lip gloss,” Chloe confirmed. “And false eyelashes on one eye, because she only had one set and they had to share.”
“Okay, that’s pretty fucking cute,” Gwen allowed. “But I don’t think it’s going to make much of an impression on my mechanic.”
“He’d butch it up for the mechanic, and I’m sure he’d be happy to do it. You know he thinks of you and Bailey like sisters.”
“Well, he sure picked on us like sisters,” Gwen muttered, and shoved her hair out of her face. “You ready to go next door?”
“Why don’t you just show me your choices here?” Chloe suggested. “I’ve got the same layout, so…”
“They’ve got the samples.”
“Dammit,” Chloe muttered.
“It won’t be so bad,” Gwen soothed. “It’s not like they know you were with a sex worker. And haven’t even decided if you’re going to hire Sawyer.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“I don’t know,” Chloe wailed. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to see them sometime,” Gwen said, and taking Chloe’s arm, began walking toward the door.
Chloe dragged her feet. “Maybe not. Maybe I’ll never have to see them again.”
“Sooner or later you will.”
“I vote later.”
“Rip the Band-aid off,” Gwen urged. “Put your shoes on.”
Chloe stuffed her feet into the boots by the front door. “Ripping the Band-aid off hurts.”
Gwen opened the door. “But only for a second.”
“It’s a very painful second,” Chloe claimed, then they were outside and Gwen was shutting the apartment door firmly behind them. “How’d you do that?”
“I’m very strong,” Gwen said and opened the door to the apartment next door.
A mirror image of Chloe’s, it was currently construction chaos.
The flooring had been ripped up and brand new subfloor laid, the walls had been sanded in preparation for paint.
The kitchen, which would sit on the shared wall, was empty of counters and cabinets, with only the pipes jutting out of the floor and walls showing where things might go.
“It looks exactly the same as mine, just flip-flopped.”
“It pretty much is,” Jesse said and Chloe whipped around so fast she almost lost her balance.
Since her arm was still hooked through Gwen’s, she was saved the indignity of falling on her face, but it was small comfort.
Jesse stood in the doorway to the single bedroom, his worn jeans and navy T-shirt rumpled from a day’s work, his jaw scruffy and his smile cheerful.
“Hey, Jesse,” Gwen said, smiling back. “Thanks for meeting me. I hope I’m not interrupting your day too much.”
“Not at all.” Jesse dropped the hammer he was holding into his toolbelt—which tugged his jeans down a tantalizing inch—and strolled toward them. “Hi, Chloe.”
She might have just kept staring, entranced by that loose-hipped walk, but Gwen jammed an elbow in her ribs. “Yeah, hi,” she blurted out, cheeks heating. “How have you been?”
“Busy.” His smile deepened, just a little. “You?”
Dammit, that dimple was not fair. Not fair at all. “Same.”
Jesse held her gaze for another moment, then flicked his eyes to Gwen. “So? Decisions made?”
“Not quite,” Gwen said apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t decide between those two cabinet colors.”
“And you can’t pick paint until you decide on the cabinets.” He nodded. “No worries. I’ve got the samples down in the truck. Let me go get them, and we’ll look again.”
“Thanks, Jesse. I’m sorry to be such a pain.”
“You’re not, not at all,” he assured her with a wink and a smile. “Be right back.”
Chloe watched him go, and the second the door closed behind him, collapsed against the wall.
“You gonna make it?” Gwen asked.
“I should’ve taken a Valium before I came over here.”
“You have Valium?”
“No, but I should’ve gotten some.” Chloe turned her head. “I can’t think when that man smiles at me, Gwen. It’s like my brain just shuts off.”
Gwen nodded. “It’s the dimple. I wonder if men know the power of the dimple?”
“That one knows,” Chloe said darkly. “I can see it in his eyes. ‘I will hypnotize you with my dimple,’ they say, ‘and you will be my love slave’.”
“Are you getting enough sleep?” Gwen asked.
“No, because every time I close my eyes I picture that dimple between my legs.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“Maybe you coming over here was a bad idea.”
“I told you so,” Chloe began, then clamped her mouth shut when the door opened and Jesse walked back in carrying a pair of cabinet doors.
“Okay, let’s take a look at these.” He crouched to prop them against the wall, then looked up when the door opened again. “Hey, there. How’d the meeting go?”
“Long.” Knox walked in, his smile apologetic, and Chloe’s mouth went dry. He was wearing the long gray overcoat and a suit, his silver hair loose. Architect Knox, in all his polished, sophisticated glory. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” Jesse stood. “We’re just going over cabinet choices one more time.”
Knox nodded, his eyes going to Chloe. There was something in those eyes that tugged at her, low in the belly, then he turned to Gwen. “What are you thinking?”
“Well,” Gwen said while Chloe tried to remember how to breathe, “I really like the orange. Love it, actually. But then what would I paint the walls? Nothing goes with orange.”
“And the blue?” Knox prompted.
Gwen shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Go with the orange,” Jesse said.
“Really?” Gwen chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes uncertain behind her glasses. “It’s not too bold?”