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“What’s eating you, Ducate?” Jeremy carefully poured a few drops of soymilk into his coffee, trying not to grimace as he took a drink. He was a health and fitness nut, but he never seemed to enjoy the effort he put into it. On more than one occasion, I caught him digging into a giant bag of Twizzlers.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” The coffee machine seemed to take forever. Had it always been so slow?
Jeremy put down his coffee, turning to look out the window. “Damn, who’s the hot piece on the scaffold?” He let out a low whistle of appreciation.
I followed his gaze to where Meg stood outside the window, stretching to reach a spot out of view. All we could see was her incredibly long legs, and the smooth skin of her stomach as her shirt rode up. I looked quickly away. “That’s not a hot piece. That’s Meg Galloway, the artist the committee hired to paint the mural.”
Jeremy couldn’t keep his tongue in his mouth. “Well, whoever she is, she’s grade A meat, my friend.”
I slammed the carton of milk down on the counter. “Stop being such a sexist piece of shit, Wyatt. We all get sick of hearing your bullshit day in and day out. Do us all a favor and give the douche act a rest.”
Normally, I ignored Jeremy’s blatant sexism. Sometimes I even laughed at it. He was a guy’s guy, and thus, he spoke like a guy’s guy. Meaning like a total and complete pig. I suppose that made me a jerk too, but hearing him speak about Meg like that made me want to break his face.
Jeremy seemed genuinely startled. “I didn’t mean anything—”
“Do you ever think that’s the problem, Jeremy? You never mean a damn thing.” I dumped milk into Meg’s coffee and stalked back outside.
I never let Jeremy Wyatt rile me. It was the beauty of our partnership. He was the mouth, and I was the charm. I had always accepted that he was a blowhard, but that at the end of the day, he was a decent guy.
But right then, I was majorly peeved off.
Deep breaths.
Deep cleansing breaths.
I stood beside the scaffold. It was currently only a few feet off the ground so that Meg could reach the lower portion of the wall. There was a mechanical lever on the other side that would lift and lower it as needed.
She was kneeling down, swiping a thick brush along the bottom edge. The sun was already baking, and it was easily in the lower 80’s even though it wasn’t yet nine in the morning. It was forecasted to be another scorcher.
“I hope you remembered to put on sunscreen. No sense in developing skin cancer in the name of art,” I said drolly, holding out the steaming mug.
Meg looked up, squinting into the sun. She stood, stretching her back, and took the cup from my hands. “I remembered. Thanks, Mom.”
“I may be sliding towards middle age, but the last time I checked, I looked nothing like your mom,” I teased.
“Yeah, she’s way better looking.” Then she winked again. And my groin tightened. My hormones were in a hell of a state.
Trump, Putin, orgy.
Trump, Putin, orgy.
Meg sipped her coffee, peering up at the blank wall. I could practically see the cogs turning in her brain.
“I like the design you came up with. Very modern but keeping in line with the town’s history.” I had been impressed when she sent over her mockup. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but when I saw what she came up with, I was blown away by her talent.
“I think it’s the first time I’ve ever known Marla not to make a list of a dozen issues first. For that, I thank you.” I affected an overly formal bow, which made Meg smile.
“I was sort of looking forward to her complaints. I had compiled a bunch of rebuttals just in case. I’m disappointed I can’t use them.” She playfully pouted, her full lower lip jutting outward. I was staring at her mouth.
Shit. I had to stop that.
Granny panties. Danny DeVito naked.
“I’m pretty sure she’ll give you a chance to use them at some point. Marla Delacroix is nothing if not predictable.” I tucked my hands in my pockets and looked up at the wall. “Though even Marla will have a hard time complaining about what you’ve come up with.”
Meg’s eyes flicked in my direction, her expression warmer than it had been before. “Thanks for the ego stroke. I needed it. Now it’s just about transferring that vision onto a giant brick wall. Which is easier said than done…” A lock of hair fell in her face, and she left it hanging there. My fingers itched to tuck it behind her ear.
But I was a little attached to my appendages, so I kept my hands to myself.
