We walk up the steps, and I stop on the landing for the first condo.
Decker shakes his head. “Unless you want to participate in a threesome, that’s not the door to go through.”
Ah, Easton lives here.
“Well, I’m not into the two-women thing, but maybe two guys could be fun.”
He tilts his head and the corners of his lips tip. “What if one of those guys isn’t a very good sharer?”
We get to the second door, and he stops, his hand moving to the security keypad.
“Then he shouldn’t agree to a threesome. And in truth, I’d rather have the sole attention of one man.”
He looks at me, and our gazes lock and hold. It’s dangerous and stupid to have this teasing conversation minutes before we go into his condo, alone. No Hazel, no friends, just the two of us sharing his space.
He opens his condo door, and I step inside and come to a stop. “Either you have a cleaning lady, or you cleaned.”
Decker isn’t much for having a clean space. His bedroom was always a mess in high school. College was worse without his mom picking up after him. Even his hotel room three years ago was littered with clothes hanging over the edge of his suitcase, empty water bottles, and wrappers on the nightstand and dresser. It’s such the opposite to how he handles himself.
“Hey, maybe I’ve changed.”
I look at him, and he chuckles.
“I may have cleaned more than usual.” He looks a little embarrassed by his admission. It’s endearing.
The kitchen counter is completely clear. The throw blanket has been folded and spread across the corner of the couch.
“Is that a candle?” I walk over to the end table in the living room and pick it up to smell it. There’s a familiarity to it, but I can’t pinpoint the scent. I lift the candle, but it just says Good Sunset.
“I may like candles now.” He shrugs.
I set it down and continue to scan the area. It’s masculine but homey. Not a lot of picture frames on his walls, but there’s one of him holding Ellis. I pick it up to examine it.
He sets his keys on the entry table, and he moves into the kitchen. It distracts me from the emotion clogging my throat.
“Callie gave it to me for my birthday,” he says, resting his hip against the island, watching me take in his space. “Water, wine, beer?”
I put the picture back and meet him in the kitchen. “I better stick to water.”
He closes the fridge with two bottles in his hand. “Afraid your willpower will wane?”
Are we really going to talk but not talk about it?
“Well, you know that Noir Cologne ad and all. I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain myself if I have any alcohol.”
His cheeks redden. “Ah, that was embarrassing.”
“Why? The woman behind us thought you had sexy feet.”
He huffs, and his head falls back. “You can’t even see them.”
I slide onto the stool across from him, placing my bag on the other stool. “I think it’s the whole look. I mean… it’s sexy, Decker.”
“It’s a cologne ad. They’re all sexy.”
I smile, unable to not enjoy seeing him so uncomfortable because people now see him as a sex symbol. I clicked on social media during the seventh inning stretch, and his new cologne ad was everywhere.
“What?” he asks.
