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“Nope. Only child for life.”
Though, maybe if I had a brother like Anthony, I wouldn’t have ended up living with a loud kleptomaniac asshole for eleven months. You heard it here kids, never answer a Craigslist ‘Roommate Wanted’ ad. You’ll regret it. I promise.
It gets quieter after that and Anthony gets all of the toys out of the sink before replacing the dented blade. He handles it with care but still makes me nervous. When he uses his teeth to hold the light for himself, I almost offer to hold it for him. He’s done before I can stop gawking long enough to be helpful.
Once the blade is put into place, he removes his hands from the sink and flips on the garbage disposal switch. When he’s satisfied that everything is in order, he turns it off again and starts to put his tools back into his box.
Not everything goes in though, he pulls something out as well.
“What’s that?” I ask, curiously eying the little cap.
“Drain cover,” he explains, putting it into place. “You twist it to lock it in. This way Bush doesn’t put his paws down the hole and hurt himself on the blades.”
I try so hard to fight back from being choked up. “You got that for us?”
This man had to come to my apartment to dig cat toys out of my sink, and instead of being bothered by it, he brought me something to keep Bush safe? I can’t remember the last time anyone has done something so thoughtful for me.
“S’no big deal,” he drawls, brushing off his hands. “Do you need anything else before I head out?”
Ask him if he’s single, ask him right now.
“Thank you,” I blurt out instead. “For helping and for the cover. That was really nice of you. Bush is a bit of a menace, so…”
Hearing his name, the little guy trots up the counter and jumps, already heading for Anthony. The bell on his collar chimes and he twirls, showing himself off to our guest.
Anthony chuckles, the sound hitting me straight in the heart. Does he not see how gooey he makes me? If he reached out and touched me literally anywhere I’d probably fall on my ass.
“This guy?” he asks teasingly, reaching out to scratch Bush’s chin. “Seems like a sweetheart to me.”
Leave it to my cat to steal my man.
“He’s showing off,” I mutter stubbornly. “He just likes you.”
“I like him too,” he replies. God, why doesn’t he just ask me to marry him? It’s basically the same thing, being so sweet to my little guy. “I better head out, you sure you don’t need anything else?”
Is he asking so he doesn’t have to come back or because he doesn’t want to leave? I’ve never wanted to be able to read someone more than in this moment.
“No, thank you,” I say softly. “You were a lot of help.”
Telling me once again that it was no problem, he gives Bush a final few pets before leaving. When I shut the door behind him, I lock it and lay my back against the wood, sighing with frustration. I’m never going to be able to ask him out.
Defeated, I go get ready for work, frowning until I have to put on a smile.
Chapter 4
Anthony
The same lingering sadness radiates in my chest when I leave apartment 502 for the second time, an invisible string trying to pull me back in. The first time it happened, I wondered if maybe it was the cat. I’ve been living alone for fourteen years now, and even though I work long distracting hours, maybe I’ve been lonelier than I thought.
Now? Now I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the cat at all. It was the company. Milo.
Despite my typically busy schedule, a few weeks ago I took a small step back from my businesses to help my brother Austin out. He’s had an issue with hiring a proper maintenance team, so me and a few of my guys are picking up the slack while he works it out. It’s sort of boring work, but so is the administrative stuff I would be doing at my shops anyway.
I own four different auto-repair stores, a mobile service that fixes broken windshields and flat tires. It’s been ridiculously profitable, nothing compared to the billions Austin rakes in owning two different luxury hotels and three separate apartment complexes, but I’ve been clearing eight figures for a while now.
But even with the success, I haven’t stopped grinding. I work constantly, doing things I could hire other people to do. It’s a toxic mindset, really. If I’m at work, I don’t have to think about the fact that I’m thirty-four and haven’t been on a date, let alone slept with someone in ten years.
People just… I don’t like most of them. They take more than they give, and I haven’t been willing to sort through the masses for someone to make mine. But this feeling? This craving that I have just to go back there and talk to him? I think Milo Cove may have woken me up from a long-ass slumber.
