Slowly I was learning that this wasn’t a standard polyamorous romance, where people dated openly within it. No, what they were proposing was more of a closed circle. A committed triangle really, with me in the middle.
I also found out there was a more specific term for what I was involved in: polyandry. A situation in which one woman has more than one lover, or mate.
It was ten minutes later than I wanted it to be when I finally glanced at the clock.
“Shit.”
I threw the book to one side of my desk, and rushed out the door. Then I headed in the direction of my car, clicked the ‘unlock’ button on my key-fob, and looked up.
My car was gleaming.
What the—
Someone had not only washed it, they’d waxed it too. They’d squeegeed the windshield. They’d rubbed Armor-All on the tires…
Chris.
I knew it was him because he’d done it before. He’d waited until I’d fallen asleep, then hooked up a hose to the apartment complex’s outdoor spigot. Back then, I’d woken up to find my car fully detailed, inside and out. We’d already been broken up for three months.
Holy shit, Chris.
At the time he’d laughed it off and told me it was an ‘ex-boyfriend favor’. I’d somehow forced a smile and a mild ‘thanks’. I still thought the whole thing was a little creepy, of course. Now, more than a year later, it was downright frightening.
Unfortunately I had no time to do anything but jump in the car and shoot off to work. The drive should’ve been fun. Filled with warm meandering, thoughts and good coffee.
Glancing at the clock, I didn’t have time for my usual drive-through java. So much for that.
And no matter how many times I tried pushing him out of my head….
… all I could think about was Chris.
Twenty-Four
BROOKE
I’d just hung up my coat and placed my phone on the desk when it began buzzing loudly. Still annoyed, not to mention caffeine-deprived, I picked it up.
Sorry not sorry, about the holes in your wall.
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. All thought of Chris fled instantly away, as I hammered out a response.
That might not be all you guys put a hole in last night.
The little typing-bubble appeared for a second or two, followed by the smiling emoji with its tongue sticking out. I laughed again.
Sorry about bolting out like that. I had a 5am crew waiting on me, and Dante’s got meetings all day.
I thought about Adam in a dirtied up T-shirt, swinging a hammer with one big, sinewy arm. I envisioned a dirty work belt. Maybe some flannel. Damn, there was something seriously hot about him being in construction.
No worries. As long as you come back and spackle my wall, we’ll call it even.
There was a sexy little pause before he wrote back:
Is that all you want me to spackle?.
Just reading the last response, my whole body felt suddenly warm. Damn, he was good. Really good.
Maybe… maybe not.