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It’s not like James said anything spectacular. I’ve been trying to rationalize the reasons why he texted me in the first place, but I keep ending up at the same conclusion: He was thinking about me. Why else would he have asked if I was up in the middle of the night?
There goes the stupid smile again.
I put down the paint roller and take a break for lunch. On my way into the kitchen, I check my phone and spot a missed call from Drew. We’ve been playing phone tag for the past week. I click on his name and sandwich the phone between my shoulder and my ear while I stick leftovers in the microwave.
Drew’s snippy tone chirps through my ear. “Well, look who it is. Miss Busy Bee.”
“Hey, I’m so glad I was able to catch you. How are you?”
“Oh, just living the dream. How are you?”
“I’m good. Been busy with the renovations on top of planning the adoption event.”
“How does the house look? You haven’t sent me any pictures.”
“I will when I finish painting. I picked out some soft grays and light blues. It’s very calming.”
“I’m gonna start calling you Joanna Gaines from now on.”
I chuckle. “Hardly.”
“You’re really into this dog event, huh?”
“I feel excited about something for the first time in a long time. I just hope all the puppies go to good homes.”
“You should adopt one.”
I frown. “I can barely take care of myself right now.”
“Not true. You’re doing good out on your own. Besides, nobody can be depressed with a puppy.”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“What’s new with your hot neighbors? Tell me some juicy stories before I have to get off the phone. Give me something here. I’m bored out of my mind.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop the goofy smile from making yet another appearance. “Well, James came over last week to teach me how to cook.”
“Oh, that’s sexy. I love when someone can feed you.”
I take my bowl out of the microwave and carry it to the table. “It certainly was sexy watching him cook.”
“Has he made a move yet?”
“Oh, no. I think he just likes to help. It’s in his nature.”
“Men aren’t that helpful unless they want something from you.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “He texted me late last night after his shift. It didn’t seem like he wanted anything from me. It was almost like… like he needed someone to talk to.”
“It was late?”
“Yeah. After two.”
“Dude, that’s a booty call.”
I shake my head. “He didn’t ask to come over, or to see me. We were just talking.”
“Nix, this isn’t one of your romance stories. When a guytexts you that late, he’s only got one thing on his mind. Trust me.”
