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I stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Normally he made tracks while I worked, but here he was . . . lounging sexily.
“Do you need something?”
“Yeah.” Gavin didn’t look up as he jerked his chin at the Rubbermaid container. He was rooting around for something. “Since you never got around to riding mechanic boy, did you look into those charities for me?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I hate when people do this. Marcus does the same shit all the time. Asks if he can ask something he’ll end up asking anyway. What the fuck, are you trying to build suspense?”
I ignored his ranting. “You are aware that all of your talk about my personal life is still sexual harassment even though we’re both men. Right?”
Gavin’s mouth dropped open, but he closed it quickly with a click. “Am I making you that uncomfortable?”
“Yes. It makes me want to punch you in the face.”
“Like that’s different from other times?”
“Yeah, because it makes me think you’re also trying to drive me to quit. Are you?” I spotted a slight upturn to the side of his mouth. “You are, aren’t you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re full of shit.”
Gavin pointed. “See? That attitude right there is why I talk so much shit to you. You dish it back with barely a hesitation, and sometimes you initiate it, so I figured you didn’t pay me any mind. If you’re gonna go cry about it, I’ll leave you alone. We can just never speak for all the fuck I care.”
“So not speaking, or you tormenting me about my sex life. Those are my options?”
“I’m gonna be me regardless, baby.”
“Fine. Then expect me to be me in return. No more filter.” I sat down on one of the oversized leather arm chairs. “Case had to reschedule our date, but it was fine because I wanted to focus on researching and getting here early. And yes, I know I still failed.”
“If you stayed your ass here overnight it wouldn’t be this much of a struggle.”
I couldn’t argue with that truth. “And maybe if you got laid yourself, you’d stop being so obsessed with what I’m doing in my spare time.”
“Probably not.” Gavin looked me up and down again, slow and deliberate, and absolutely filthy. “It amuses me to picture you getting fucked.”
For the umpteenth time in the past week, I was struck silent. Was he teasing me or hitting on me?
“You’re an uptight little bastard. I bet you spend the whole time trying to keep silent.”
He was definitely teasing me. That was easier to handle than the idea of him wanting to use me for easy-access brojobs. He wouldn’t be the first straight guy to assume the gays would flock to him the first time he offered to whip out his dick with the lights off. The “a mouth is a mouth, a hand is a hand” philosophy. If he was hard up enough, I wouldn’t be too shocked if he briefly entertained the idea.
I straightened my back and turned my attention to the overflow of envelopes.
“There’s your first mistake, Brawley. Don’t let the good-boy manners and button-down fool you. I’m an Irish kid from Queens. You’ve got no clue how loud I can be.”
“You know what? You’re right. Judging by the way you just about tore up that pap, there’s definitely some fire,” he said, reaching out to yank at my collar. The tip of his finger grazed my collarbone. “Beneath that ugly-ass shirt.”
I edged away, but my heart had begun beating faster. What was it about this guy that had me either hot and bothered or heated and annoyed?
“Let’s get back to the charities.”
“Fine, but I’m getting back to your inner rowdy Queens kid later. I like that version of you.”
Trying to ignore the compliment, I went on, “There’s a ton in New Jersey and the Tri-state Area in general. I have a list saved in my cloud that I wanted to go over with you.”
“Just tell me the best ones. We don’t need to go over every option.”
“There’s really no way to pick a best one because they all have good to them,” I said. “There are grant-making institutions—”
He leaned back again, long legs sprawled in front of him. “What’s that?”
“Foundations that collect donations and then redistribute them to people who have sent in grant proposals. Schools send in grants a lot, but also youth centers and shelters.”
Gavin rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, frowning thoughtfully at the envelopes.
“I dunno.”
“It’s not a fast and easy choice if you want it to have meaning,” I said.
“Who says I want it to have meaning? I’m just doing it because Mel Hawkins has been busting my balls over it for fucking years. She’s all about her athletes ‘giving back to the community.’ And she thinks it would help with PR.”
