Authors: Sylvia Ryan
“Well, then, you see? You’ve already accomplished more than half of the work. Jay will simply do the rest.”
“He doesn’t even know me. I should–”
“Nonsense.” Henry gestured her into the hall. “You’ve worked all morning. You ought to sit down and have a drink. Water? Lemonade? Iced tea?”
She glanced toward the staircase and then in the other direction, past his welcoming arm. She didn’t know this guy, not either of these guys, and she was going to saunter into their apartment like some horror-movie idiot opening the basement door?
“I can bring the food to you, if you prefer. I would hate for our new neighbor to feel herself a fly walking into my parlor.”
“Why, are you a spider?” She winced at the unintentional flirtation in her tone.
“I wouldn’t think so, no, but then wouldn’t I tell you the same thing if I were?” He raised an eyebrow. His lips twitched.
“You’ve got the charming part down well enough.”
It
was
nearly lunchtime. She didn’t want to carry boxes all afternoon. Was it too damsel-in-distress to give the job to a cute neighbor? It wasn’t as if she’d coerced him. She hadn’t been in distress or pretended to be. Jay was thoughtful, or something.
She narrowed her eyes at Henry. “I guess I’ll have to trust this isn’t a trap and you guys don’t kill undesirable neighbors on their first day in the building.”
“Oh, no, not the first day. We prefer to let them settle in first. Today, you’re perfectly safe. Though whoever called you undesirable was quite mistaken.” He frowned and waved a hand. “I apologize for how such a statement could be misconstrued. It appears Jay’s habits are rubbing off on me.”
Considering her ex-roommates’ habits, neighbors with a predilection for charm held incomparable appeal. Especially if they were single.
“He does seem to be a flirt,” she agreed.
“When he wants to be,” Henry said. “But now we’ve been standing in the doorway entirely too long, and I haven’t–”
“Seriously?” Jay’s voice boomed from the stairs. “I’m back with two more boxes–told you I was killing it–and you haven’t gotten Alice a drink? You’re slipping, Henry. She might die of thirst.”
Alice stepped into the hall, following Henry out of Jay’s way. “I’m not dying of thirst. But if you’re determined to show off your macho skills, I’ll go have that lemonade. I’ve never played Southern belle before. I think I need a veranda and a fan.”
“An excellent suggestion.” Henry’s arm moved as though he intended to sweep it against her back and carry her along with him, but stopped short.
She itched with the desire to lean back and find out how his touch felt.
“Jay, when you’ve finished, join us for lunch on the roof deck.”
“Aye-aye, Cap’n.” Jay winked at Alice, lowering his voice to a faux-whisper as he approached her door. “Consider it payment for moving the boxes. Keep Henry company while he waxes melodic about lettuce or something. Please. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
She glanced at Henry’s expression, a sort of resigned fondness, as though Jay had said something expected. Hiding her smile, she matched Jay’s tone. “What an astonishing coincidence. He said the same thing about you when he asked me to please find enough boxes to occupy you all afternoon.”
Jay’s face blanked for a moment before he laughed. He kept laughing, deposited the boxes beside the others and bent over with his hands on his knees, whooping for breath.
“It wasn’t that funny,” Alice muttered, but Henry, too, seemed to struggle not to chuckle.
Jay straightened. “Five minutes and she’s got your number, Henry. You better watch out, or she’ll have all of your secrets out of you before lunch is served.”
She smiled the small, cautious smile of the unsure. She’d definitely missed the joke here.
Henry spoke up beside her, “Mmm. I see the two of you will be dangerous together. Jay, to the boxes. Alice, this way, please.”
She let Henry guide her into his apartment. He left the door open behind them. A deliberate attempt to put her at ease? Whatever his reason, it worked.
She scanned the apartment twice. Blinked hard. Either her neighbors made serious cash, or they were up to their eyeballs in debt. The other floors squeezed in four or five apartments, but this one held her studio and their palace. She was paying twelve hundred a month for less than a quarter the space.
Maybe Jay was a wealthy millionaire playboy and Henry his faithful lunch-making butler.
I live next door to Batman.
She stifled a giggle.
Jay’s bike hung on hooks near the door. A hall led left, to bedrooms, probably. Henry gestured her to the right. The foyer opened up into a living room, dining room and kitchen, all in a row, the three together larger than her entire apartment.
“You neglected to place a drink order earlier, Alice. Shall I repeat the choices?”
“No, lemonade sounds great. It’s warm out there.” Not in the men’s apartment, though. Nine windows brought in the breeze and the view. Mature trees shaded smaller homes in neighboring blocks. “Are you sure Jay won’t get sunstroke after all the biking and box-carrying and stair-climbing?”
Henry gestured her to a bar-height seat at the kitchen island. She sat while he fetched and poured. Homemade lemonade, judging by the slices floating in it.
“He’ll be fine, I’m certain, though you’re kind to worry for him.”
She drained half the glass, embarrassed by her own eagerness. “Guess I was thirstier than I thought. That’s good lemonade.”
“You share Jay’s sweet tooth, I expect.”
Henry stood across the counter from her. One of his hands rested on the black granite speckled with blue-and-white glints like stars, as though she stared into the night sky and might tumble into space. Would his hand catch her?
“Now, before I begin preparing lunch, is there anything I ought to know about your preferences? Vegetarian? Vegan? Allergies?”
She shook off her odd thoughts. “No, no and no. But I should go move my stuff. Jay shouldn’t have to go to all that trouble for me.”
Henry tipped his head, lips pursed as he studied her. He raised his right hand, index finger extended, and though he’d moved slowly, she was surprised when his finger lay against her lips as if he were shushing a child. A gesture that might’ve seemed offensive or patronizing didn’t. Henry shook his head and removed his finger.
“The proper tool for the proper job, my dear. Your fortuitous arrival provides an opportunity for Jay to work off his abundance of excess energy.”
“Moving is hard work. Nobody has that much extra energy.”
The sound of bouncing feet on hardwood called her a liar, and she waited for Jay’s latest witty or flirtatious contribution.
“What, not on the roof yet? You’re slacking, Henry. And I lost my audience.”
Alice twisted in the chair to look over her shoulder.
Jay made ridiculous puppy-dog eyes at her. “You didn’t see me carry that last load. Three boxes. I should start a moving company.”
“Perhaps, Jay. Though Alice has questioned your ability to complete the task. I believe she feels your stamina is lacking.”
Her cheeks heated. She whipped her head around to face Henry. “That’s not–I didn’t–thanks
a lot
, Henry.”
“You’re quite welcome, Alice.” His expression didn’t flicker.
“Ludicrous,” Jay said. “I have so much stamina it’s oozing out of my pores.”
“Best get a mop, then. The custodial staff shouldn’t be forced to deal with your overeager excretions.”
“Pfft. Going now. I better see actual food in progress when I come back. Hardworking boys need their meat, Henry. I deserve it, don’t I?”
“I’m certain I’ll find something to pay proper tribute to your excellent efforts as an aspiring moving business mogul.”
Jay’s footsteps faded and Henry began pulling dishes from various places around the kitchen.
“Is he always so…” What was the diplomatic way to ask if a man was a half-trained puppy who needed frequent pats on the head?
“Eager for praise?” Henry glanced up and smiled. “Always. It’s his most endearing trait.”
Alice sipped her lemonade while Henry bustled around the kitchen, their conversation punctuated by Jay’s cheerful interruptions and progress reports.
Henry did, indeed, wax melodic, though not about lettuce. He extolled the desirable qualities of fresh mozzarella, its softness, moisture content, spreadability. He detailed varieties of heirloom tomatoes and grades of olive oil.
By the time he set a Caprese salad in front of her and invited her to help herself, she’d had a thorough education in every step of its preparation. She’d never enjoyed being in the kitchen quite so much as she had with Henry.
She was eating a slice of tomato slathered with semisoft cheese and sprinkled with fresh-chopped basil when Jay slung his body into the seat beside her. Bare-chested still, he’d draped his shirt over his left shoulder.
He sat eight or nine inches from her, and the overwhelming scent of pure male taunted her. The woodsy smell of his deodorant or bodywash. The deeper note of his sweat daring her to lick his neck and taste the salt of his skin.
Fuck. Rein it in, Alice.
“That’s one load done.” Jay wiped his face with his shirt. “It is seriously hot out. Sahara Desert hot.”
Henry looked up from trimming steaks for shish kebabs. He glanced at the window, and she followed his gaze. A small digital thermometer clung to the glass.
“Yes, eighty-three degrees. An inferno.”
She couldn’t tell from his even tone whether Henry was serious or subtly mocking Jay, but she suspected he had a dry sense of humor. She loaded her voice with her best rural twang. “Y’all cain’t hardly be jawin’ on this here spell o’ cold weather. Shucks, it ain’t even hit a hunnerd yet.”
Both men turned startled faces to her. She picked up another slice of tomato and bit down.
Henry showed a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smile.
Jay nudged her with his elbow. “Well?”
She swallowed.
“South Dakota. And no, we don’t all sound like that.”
She popped the rest of the slice in her mouth.
Jay reached past her to snag the plate and a tomato slice of his own. “You wanna have lunch before we pick up the rest?”
Alice finished chewing. “The rest?”
“Yeah, you know, the rest.” One hand, thankfully not the one holding a tomato slice, waved vaguely. “More boxes? Table, chairs, dresser? Whatever. I can run over with you and help load. It’ll go faster.” He popped the entire slice into his mouth.
“There isn’t any more. I need to take the van back, is all.”
Jay stared.
She turned her attention to the appetizer, took her time choosing a third slice.
“Oh. New plan, then. We all have lunch, and Henry follows you with the car while you drop off the moving van and I get some stuff out of storage.” Jay’s head moved in her peripheral vision. He raised his voice. “I’m thinking that two-seater table and chairs and the small chest of drawers, Henry. You know the ones?”
“Yes, of course.” Henry cubed the meat with precision as he spoke. “Alice might like the vanity and bench as well, though perhaps we ought to let her decide before we leave to return the van.”
“Wait, wait. You two have already moved me in and fed me. I’m not a stray cat. I’m fine with the furniture I have.”
“Jay?” Henry hadn’t even looked up.
“A futon, a trunk and a lamp. Unless she’s building the rest out of cardboard boxes.”
“Unacceptable.” Henry stopped working and met her eyes. “Jay and I have furnishings doing nothing but gathering dust in storage. The unfortunate result of merging two households. Please. I would be grateful if you provided a use for them again.”
How had he made their generosity to her feel as though it worked the other way around? As though she’d be offending them if she said no?
“I…thanks. That would be great.”
“Lovely. We’ll eat first, if that suits, Alice.” Henry filled two trays and draped dishtowels over the top. “The roof deck has both a grill and a breeze to recommend it.”
“Fantastic.” Jay stood. “The meter on the van’s good for another four hours.”