read minds, he left the group and went to the kitchen, taking with him a few empty beer bottles and the empty jar of olives.
For the record…he’d rather read minds.
He cleared a space with his arm, trying to move the tools and debris from his renovations out of the way.
Fuck. His house was a mess. He probably should have tried to make it a little more presentable knowing Violet might show up, but that would have taken time away from the real renovations and he couldn’t afford any lost time.
He’d gutted the small bungalow. The bathroom was the first room he’d renovated. He’d replaced the toilet and fixtures with brand new water-savers. He’d ripped out the blue tile in the shower and had replaced it with crisp white. He’d added pewter towel and toilet paper holders and replaced the pedestal sink with a vanity with cupboard space. One thing old houses didn’t have much of was storage. He’d even refitted the tub. There was only one bathroom, so he knew he had to make it efficient and stylish. He’d wanted to build a second one, but he wasn’t certified as a plumber and it would have cost thousands of dollars to move the plumbing.
He turned on the faucet and let the water run over a plate. Behind him, he heard more clinking.
Looking over his shoulder, he noticed Luke had brought a few more empties. “Can you believe that we’re so adult, we actually clean up along the way instead of leaving it all for the next morning.”
Noah laughed. “Sometimes I can’t believe we even lived this long.”
They had done some crazy, stupid things when they were younger. Including jumping off the roof onto a trampoline. Poor Luke had ricocheted back toward the house and smashed his head into the eaves trough. He’d gotten a concussion and been in the hospital for two days.
“Violet’s nice.”
Violet was incredibly nice. But shy. Fearful even. Almost scared of her own shadow.
Noah left the plate he was rinsing in the sink and turned to his friend, only to be greeted by the mischievous grin he’d known since they were kids. “She wants to fuck you, Youngblood.”
Youngblood. The nickname he’d gotten when he and Luke had watched the Rob Lowe movie of the same name and had decided they were going to play in the NHL.
Obviously that didn’t happen.
“I get this feeling she wants something from me. She’s just afraid to ask for it.” There was definitely something in her eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“The only thing you’re capable of is giving her a good fucking.” He wasn’t being mean. He wasn’t being rude. But after almost twenty years of friendship, Luke knew Noah’s boundaries, and, even though they’d never talked at length about what had happened with Megan, he knew he wasn’t capable of going there again. “A girl like that is looking to slum. Give her what she wants so she can tell all her friends.”
Noah didn’t want to be Violet’s means to slum it. He didn’t want to be any woman’s means to dip their toes into the inferior dating pool. All the more confirmation that he didn’t want to start his own business and just be a contractor. His position as a junior foreman at a major construction firm was a way to elevate his status to be more than just the guy who laid the concrete. He’d already been tossed aside once because he didn’t wear a suit every day, and he didn’t think he could handle that again.
Despite Luke’s words, Noah didn’t believe Violet just wanted to slum, but he wasn’t given the chance to contemplate it when a loud voice carried from the other room.
“Luke!” Harper yelled.
His friend hung his head, running his hand over his beard and up across the top of his head.
It never failed to amaze him that even after five years, each time he looked at Luke’s arms, he always noticed something different in the full sleeves of tattoos. Like right now, there was a shading of fuchsia inside the scrollwork near his right
For the record…he’d rather read minds.
He cleared a space with his arm, trying to move the tools and debris from his renovations out of the way.
Fuck. His house was a mess. He probably should have tried to make it a little more presentable knowing Violet might show up, but that would have taken time away from the real renovations and he couldn’t afford any lost time.
He’d gutted the small bungalow. The bathroom was the first room he’d renovated. He’d replaced the toilet and fixtures with brand new water-savers. He’d ripped out the blue tile in the shower and had replaced it with crisp white. He’d added pewter towel and toilet paper holders and replaced the pedestal sink with a vanity with cupboard space. One thing old houses didn’t have much of was storage. He’d even refitted the tub. There was only one bathroom, so he knew he had to make it efficient and stylish. He’d wanted to build a second one, but he wasn’t certified as a plumber and it would have cost thousands of dollars to move the plumbing.
He turned on the faucet and let the water run over a plate. Behind him, he heard more clinking.
Looking over his shoulder, he noticed Luke had brought a few more empties. “Can you believe that we’re so adult, we actually clean up along the way instead of leaving it all for the next morning.”
Noah laughed. “Sometimes I can’t believe we even lived this long.”
They had done some crazy, stupid things when they were younger. Including jumping off the roof onto a trampoline. Poor Luke had ricocheted back toward the house and smashed his head into the eaves trough. He’d gotten a concussion and been in the hospital for two days.
“Violet’s nice.”
Violet was incredibly nice. But shy. Fearful even. Almost scared of her own shadow.
Noah left the plate he was rinsing in the sink and turned to his friend, only to be greeted by the mischievous grin he’d known since they were kids. “She wants to fuck you, Youngblood.”
Youngblood. The nickname he’d gotten when he and Luke had watched the Rob Lowe movie of the same name and had decided they were going to play in the NHL.
Obviously that didn’t happen.
“I get this feeling she wants something from me. She’s just afraid to ask for it.” There was definitely something in her eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“The only thing you’re capable of is giving her a good fucking.” He wasn’t being mean. He wasn’t being rude. But after almost twenty years of friendship, Luke knew Noah’s boundaries, and, even though they’d never talked at length about what had happened with Megan, he knew he wasn’t capable of going there again. “A girl like that is looking to slum. Give her what she wants so she can tell all her friends.”
Noah didn’t want to be Violet’s means to slum it. He didn’t want to be any woman’s means to dip their toes into the inferior dating pool. All the more confirmation that he didn’t want to start his own business and just be a contractor. His position as a junior foreman at a major construction firm was a way to elevate his status to be more than just the guy who laid the concrete. He’d already been tossed aside once because he didn’t wear a suit every day, and he didn’t think he could handle that again.
Despite Luke’s words, Noah didn’t believe Violet just wanted to slum, but he wasn’t given the chance to contemplate it when a loud voice carried from the other room.
“Luke!” Harper yelled.
His friend hung his head, running his hand over his beard and up across the top of his head.
It never failed to amaze him that even after five years, each time he looked at Luke’s arms, he always noticed something different in the full sleeves of tattoos. Like right now, there was a shading of fuchsia inside the scrollwork near his right
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