As if sensing his thoughts, she glanced up. “What? You’re staring at me.” A shaft of light caught her messy blonde hair, making it glow like a halo.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am to be gay,” Olly replied truthfully. “If I was straight, I’d be hopelessly in love with you but would never have a chance. I’d end up dying from a broken heart.” He said the last words with exaggerated theatricality, pressing his hand on his chest, but he was at least half-serious.
She laughed loud and bubbly and smacked his leg with the big manila envelope she was holding. It clacked against his knee. “You doof, you crack me up. As far as I’m concerned, you already did your part for today. So if you’d rather not be covered in paint, I’ll let you make your escape. Rich can handle it.”
This Rich guy was really starting to annoy Olly. “Nuh-uh. I said I’d help, so I’ll help. Plus I like painting.”
“Suit yourself.” Sandy turned back to her mail. She ripped open the manila envelope, pulled out a typed sheet, frowned at it and stuffed it back inside. Next she tossed the envelope on top of the pile on the floor and stretched.
“Did you move in?” Olly asked, wondering about her situation.
She looked up. “I had to. I can’t afford to pay rent and mortgage at the same time. My furniture is in storage, and my clothes are in boxes in the garage. Rich and I are living like Gypsies for the moment. There’s still too much to do here. The kitchen’s gutted, but the bathrooms are tiled, there’s running water, the toilets flush, and I have an old fridge in the garage. I can rough it for a few weeks, and since I don’t have any jobs lined up for another month, I can be as messy and paint splattered as I wanna be. A blessing in disguise.”
Her words jiggled Olly’s memory. “That reminds me—there’s a photographer parked across the street, and I don’t think he’s from National Geographic. At least he was there when I came in.” He hopped up and walked to the front window for a peek. “Yup, he’s still there.”
She catapulted from the couch like a cat on springs. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could dash down to the coffee shop at the corner. What should I wear? Yoga pants?”
Olly didn’t think so. “Nah, too tacky. What about those cutoffs? You know, the ones with the stitching on the pockets? They make your butt look as good as J.Lo’s but not as big.”
“Good thinking!” She rushed off and came back a minute later wearing the jeans and carrying a few tops.
In record speed, they fixed her up to look sexy and fresh like spring rain, and ready for her close-up. Well, not so much close up, but same difference. She popped out into the backyard to ask Rich if he wanted something, then she was out the door.
Chapter Two
The moment Rich opened the door and saw the young blond guy standing there, fresh-faced and cheerful, an emotion surged through him. One with barbed edges. He couldn’t put a name on it, so he filed it under anger. He’d been angry a lot lately. Every little thing set him off. Like this guy—Olly—with his blond hair brushed over his eyes and smiling, as if everything was right in the world. It made him want to punch something. Himself most of all.
Rich fled to the backyard and left Olly to Sandy. He grabbed a beer from the fridge in the garage. What the fuck did he care if it was only eight in the morning? It was happy hour somewhere. The cold drink doused the fire inside him, at least for now. He picked up a gouge and went back to work. The concentration required for woodworking kept unwanted thoughts out of his head. It was a simple pattern of grape leaves, but his carving skills were average at best, and he needed all his focus.
Sadly, he had only a few minutes of peace before Sandy rushed out and blew it to pieces. “I’m doing a coffee run. What do you want?” she asked.
“I’m good.” Rich lifted the beer can to his lips and emptied it.
She regarded him with an expression of pity that made him want to grab another beer right then and there. “Have you even eaten anything yet?”
“Power bars. As I said, I’m good, sis.”
“Good, my ass.” She shook her head. “I’ll pick up some pastries. Olly is staying to help. You be nice to him, or I’ll hurt you.”
His annoyance stirred. “What the hell do you need that skinny runt for?”
“He’s a friend. A real friend—you know, the kind who sticks around even when it’s not convenient?” Her jibe cut a wide swath at Rich’s friends, who’d all evaporated the moment he’d gotten into trouble. She’d never liked them to begin with. She’d once called them a gaggle of overgrown frat boys who had wallets where their hearts should’ve been. She hadn’t been far off, and the knowledge only pissed him off more.