Chapter Five
Josie
I didn’t get the opportunity to get a feel for Andy Pallas during Sam and Ian’s wedding, so I was really starting from scratch as of seven in the morning, when hammer blows to my parents’ house kicked me out of a sound sleep. It wasn’t a great beginning, but offering me a quiet and clean place to study?
That gift made up for it. More than made up for it. Although, I thought with a tiny trace of regret, I had enjoyed stealing into the kitchen to spy on him every so often when I came in to refill my coffee cup or grab a snack. The way his muscles flexed and rolled as he swung the sledgehammer, the firm ass and thighs that looked, frankly, fucking great in those beat-up jeans—yeah, those had all been worth the unexpected wake-up call. And when he turned those big brown eyes on me and his handsome face lit up with a grin, I felt almost tongue-tied.
Rare for me, but I kind of liked it.
Just like he promised, Andy’s place was spotless and silent, albeit a little bare inside, with few decorative touches and just a little bit less furniture than the space demanded. Still, there was a kitchen table with ample space, and I promptly plunked my ass in one of his dining chairs and got lost in advanced organic chemistry.
Hours later—four, maybe five, I was almost done with a particularly complicated problem set involving the Diels-Alder reaction when the front door swung open.
“It’s me,” Andy called. “Not a weird intruder.”
“Hey,” I greeted as he stepped into the kitchen and approached the round table. I closed my laptop as I rose to my feet and started gathering papers. “Give me just a minute to pack up and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Andy slid the chair next to mine out and sank into it. “Why?” he asked. “Stay a little while. Maybe we could get some food.”
I paused, a neat stack of study guides clutched in my hands. “Food?”
“Yeah.” Grinning, he brought his arms up behind his head, fingers laced together. “You eat, right? Would you eat with me?”
“I do eat.” My mouth felt a little dry as I tried not to stare at his round biceps and the gentle swell of his pectoral muscles above his flat tummy. Tried and gave up just a few seconds later and let my gaze trace across the lines of that ridiculous body before meeting his amused gaze again. “Are you sure? You’re not just being polite?”
“Positive,” he said. “But don’t feel obligated if you have other stuff to do. I won’t be offended.”
I gnawed on my lower lip and thought for a second. Stay and muddle through some awkwardness, but maybe get to know this handsome, considerate and capable man a little better, or go home to another late night alone at the kitchen table, pouring over alkenes and alkynes until my eyes sagged closed and my mother sent me to bed.
I wanted the risk, I decided. The opportunity to see where this attraction between us led.
“I’ll stay,” I said, feeling a few little butterflies take flight in my belly. “But the pizza’s on me.”
* * *
Staying had been worth it, I decided a couple of hours later, when the remains of a pizza lay on the coffee table in front of us and I felt pleasantly loose as I drained the last of a can of cold beer. The bitter, hoppy kind, which I loved.
Andy reclined on the couch next to me, a lazy smile on his face as we laughed and joked as though we’d known each other for months. The awkwardness between us was long gone, replaced with an easy, flirtatious camaraderie, laid over a simmering undercurrent of attraction that both of us were well aware of.
“You’re really nice,” I said idly as I twisted the metal tab on top of the can back and forth. “You’re funny and friendly and smart.” Not to mention hot as Hades. “How come we never really talked during all the wedding stuff?”
Andy set his own can down on a coaster next to the abandoned pizza box, then slouched back into the throw pillows. “Combination of factors, I guess.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest with a sigh. “Weddings are stressful and everybody is really busy. Plus, I was still a little raw after my ex broke up with me.”
“Wait.” I looked around at the bare walls, and the obvious deficit of furniture. “Is that why your place has nothing in it? Did your ex move out?”
He chuckled. “Is it that obvious? I didn’t think it was that bad, just a little…spartan.”
“What can I say?” The beer can tab snapped off, and I dropped it into the can with a little plink. “It’s a logic puzzle and I’ve always been a problem solver.” I looked around the room, focusing on the heavy handmade coffee table. “But the stuff you have is nice. Did you make that table?”
Andy nodded and shifted closer to me. “I did, yeah. I’m really good with my hands.”
He waggled his eyebrows. I laughed, but didn’t move away when he casually slung an arm along the back of the sofa, fingers dangling down to just brush against my shoulder and play with my hair.
“Well, the dining set is fantastic,” I said, suppressing a shiver as his callused fingertips grazed my upper arm. “You should be proud. I wish I could do stuff like that.”
“Yeah,” Andy said with a dramatically playful sigh. “Guess you’ll have to settle for just being ridiculously smart instead.”
“Hey,” I said, elbowing him gently, though I was grinning. “It’s not just brains. I work really hard studying.”