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“I told her before we went to her place—which is filthy and smells like baba ganoush, by the way—that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. She said she wasn’t, either.”
“No one has accused Ashton of being rational.”
“You’re rational, and sensible, and selective … I kind of like that about you.”
I chuckled. “That sounds so boring.”
“Definitely not boring,” he said, opening the passenger side door.
He drove us to an apartment building just three blocks from mine. When he shut off the engine, I reached for the lever but hesitated. “Is this your place?” I asked.
“It is. I just need to grab my wallet. I was in a hurry.” He flashed what I was sure was his most charming grin, and then he pushed out of the car and jogged around to my side, opening my door. “You don’t have to come in if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Does your apartment smell like baba ganoush?” I asked.
He laughed. “No.”
He took my hand and held it until we reached the front stoop, seeming disappointed to let go. He started to use his key, but the door swung open.
“Oh!” a woman said. She wasn’t much younger than me, with a dirty blonde bob and thick glasses.
“Good timing,” Josh said.
“Who’s this?” she said, stepping aside so we could walk in.
“This,” Josh said, gesturing to me proudly, “is Avery Jacobs.”
“Nurse?” Cinda asked, pushing up her glasses.
Josh chuckled, looking down for a second. “Yes, she’s a nurse.”
Cinda nodded. “Nice to meet you. Your fur baby has been checked on thrice, walked, played with, and I’m sorry to report, he barfed in your kitchen.”
Josh made a face. “What did you feed him?”
“I cannot confirm nor deny that I am now out of Cajun-style deli meat.”
“Cinda, I told you he can’t handle that shit.”
She suppressed a giggle. “But he loves it so much! You can’t even tell. I bleached your entire floor and ventilated your apartment. I also did your dishes, because … gross.”
Josh seemed confused. “I didn’t have any dishes in the sink.”
She thought about it. “Maybe that was someone else’s dishes. You all run together. I’m heading out for work.”
“Babysitting the Ramsey twins still?”
“They haven’t killed me yet,” she said as she passed.
Josh shut the door and grabbed my hand again, leading me up two flights of stairs to the second door on the right. He grabbed the knob. “This is me.” He motioned across the hall. “That’s Cinda. I always know she’s home because of the kids screaming.”
“Her kids?” I asked, alarmed.
“No.” He chuckled. “No, Cinda is a professional babysitter. She’s always busy. If she’s home, she has somebody’s kids with her. Even at night. She makes a killing,” he said, pushing open his door. “She also sits for me because I’m gone so much. I probably shouldn’t have gotten a dog, but Quinn didn’t want him, and it seemed like a Good Samaritan thing to do at the time …” His voice trailed off as he opened the door to his apartment.
His apartment was blank like mine, just a ratty couch, recliner, and hutch in the living room. I breathed in, and instead of chicken vomit or baba ganoush, I smelled bleach, mint, and Josh’s cologne.
“Lived here long?” I asked.
“Nope. Just a few months. I had to find something quick so I could stop couch surfing.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“Why was I couch surfing?”
I nodded.
“Because I’d just moved to town.”
“Why?”
“Damn.” He grinned. “Didn’t know this was going to turn into the Spanish Inquisition.”
I clutched my arms. The air conditioning was on full blast. “I’m alone with you in your apartment. I think I’m entitled to the basics.”
“You cold?” he asked.
“It feels like a meat locker in here.”
“I sleep better that way.”
“How do you afford the bill?” I asked.
Josh disappeared into a doorway and then came out holding a gray hoodie. He tossed it to me. “Put it on. It’s really warm.”
I looked down. “I don’t think you want it against my scrubs.”
“C’mon, like I don’t get lathered in bodily fluids all day? It’ll buff out. Put it on before you freeze.”
“Buff out? That’s an odd thing to say.”
He shrugged. “Like buffing a scratch from a car. My dad used to always say it for everything. We’re gearheads. I get elbow deep in grease on a regular basis. It relaxes me. Clears my head.”
I slipped the hoodie over my head. A green Adidas logo was stamped on the front, and it happened to be the softest thing I’d even worn. “God, this is amazing.”
“Isn’t it? It’s my favorite.”
The gesture wasn’t lost on me that he’d handed me his favorite sweatshirt to wear. “I’ll get it back to you after I wash it.”
“No rush … There you are!” he said, grabbing his wallet off the hutch and stuffing it into his back pocket.
“Now we can go. Sorry about that.” He called his dog, reaching down to pet him.
“That’s an awful name. Sounds like a serial killer,” I said.
Josh feigned offense. “You don’t like it? Okay, you name him, then.”
