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Chapter Seventeen
Esther didn’t get to knock on Jonathan’s door after all, because he was down in the courtyard when she finally made it home. He was camped in one of the lounge chairs with his legs splayed out in front of him and his laptop balanced on one thigh. It was the first time she’d ever seen him in shorts. His legs were long, covered in dark hair, and strikingly muscular.
“Hey,” he said, looking up from his computer as she walked up.
Esther sank down in the chair next to him with a loud, dramatic sigh.
“Good day at work, I take it?”
“Everyone sucks today.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Present company excepted.”
He picked up the beer sitting on the ground next to him and passed it to her. She took a big swig, letting the alcohol relax some of the tension in her shoulders. It wasn’t enough to wash her bad mood away, but it was a start.
“Keep it,” he said when she tried to hand it back. “You obviously need it more than me.”
“Thanks.” She took another swallow, and her eyes drifted back to his legs. She’d never seen so much of his skin before. It had a golden, sun-kissed glow to it. Was he a runner? She’d never seen him leave his apartment in anything resembling exercise clothes. But now she was imagining what he’d look like shirtless and in jogging shorts, all sweaty and glistening with his hair drenched and dripping—
“Did something happen at work?”
She made herself stop staring at his legs. “Sexism happened.”
“Can you be more specific? It’s my understanding sexism happens every day.”
Esther sighed again, scraping at the beer label with her thumb. “This guy at work fucked something up, but because he’s bros with the team leads, I’m the one who has to redo a bunch of stuff to fix it.”
“You’re right, that does suck.”
“But when I try to point out his bullshit, I’m the one who’s not a team player.”
Jonathan shut his laptop and set it on the table next to him. “So, some other guy screwed up, but you’re the one who looks bad for calling him out?”
Something was different about him today, other than the shorts. She couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Pretty much, yeah.” Her eyes went to his legs again. What was with her? Drooling over a glimpse of calf like a sex-starved Victorian duke in a romance novel.
He shook his head in commiseration. “That is totally sexist.”
“Thank you.”
He wasn’t smoking—that was what was different. There was no cigarette smell hovering around him, and no butts lying nearby. Had he really quit because she’d told him she didn’t like it?
She looked away, watching a wasp hover over the surface of the pool. “That’s not even the worst thing that happened today. My brother called. Our mom’s losing her apartment.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” She took another swallow of beer. “Her landlord’s selling the building. Seattle’s so expensive, I don’t know how we’re going to find anything in her budget.” She could feel the grinding edge of anxiety building already, and tried to push it out of her mind. This was why she needed company tonight. To distract her from tormenting herself over something she couldn’t control.
“What are you going to do?”
She shrugged. “Sulk. Stress. Drink.” With you, hopefully.
She was about to ask if he wanted to join her when he said, “You should come out with me tonight.”
She looked over at him, startled. “What?” It sounded like he was asking her out on a date.
