Racer shrugs timidly. “She’s one of your hot-button issues. Didn’t know if she was the cause.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I can’t remember the last time I talked to her. This has nothing to do with my mom.” My phone buzzes in my pocket and I reach for it, hoping it’s Carlos telling me when he will have primer back on the job site.
“Then who is this about?”
I open the text message and my irritation grows.
Emma: Soooo . . . are you opposed to having Logan over for dinner as well? We have some studying to do and I kind of invited him. I hope you’re not mad.
Fucking Logan. That kid. I inwardly roll my eyes. After the rocky few days I’ve had with Emma, I was hoping to have this night with her to repair our friendship. I still feel on edge around her and a night of joking around, making a meal together, could have helped bandage some of the awkwardness between us. But now . . .
Logan.
Jesus.
“Uh, I’m going to guess your bitchy pants is due to . . .” Racer leans over and looks at my phone, “Emma. Am I right?”
“Who’s Emma?” Smalls leans over as well, trying to catch a glimpse of my phone. I swear they’re like two nosey little sisters I can’t shed.
“Emma is his roommate; I told you about her. The hot nurse we have yet to meet.” Turning to me, Racer asks, “When are we going to meet her?”
Knowing they’re not going to give up this conversation, I capitulate. “I got in it the other night with Emma. We were having a good time, looking at a Playboy—”
“That’s hot,” Racer says.
“And I don’t even know how it came up, but we started talking about Sadie.”
In sync, both Racer and Smalls cringe and say, “Damn.”
“Yeah, it didn’t go over well, I ended up snapping at her and ending the night abruptly. I then proceeded to evade talking to her for a week, hating every second of it, but I was so damn mad at what she said. And being the not so mentally healthy individual I am, I clearly had no idea how to fix the situation once I went silent on her.”
“I’m afraid to hear, but what did she say?” Smalls asks.
I look around the house and notice everyone is focused on their work. “She said I wasn’t the right man for Sadie, that we weren’t meant to end up together. Honestly, I don’t think anyone should have an opinion on the matter beside Sadie and myself. It pissed me off that she so easily made such a shitty statement.”
Racer and Smalls both exchange glances with each other. It almost seems like they’re trying to gain the courage to say something, but I stop them before they ruin our friendship.
“I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.” I let out a long breath and grab the back of my neck.
“Fair enough.” Racer shifts in place, his hands slipping in his pockets. “Since your attitude has brightened slightly, I’m going to guess you worked things out?”
“Yeah, for the most part. We both apologized. She cried a lot. And then we fell asleep . . .” She fell asleep quickly. I, on the other hand, soaked in the night with her pressed against me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the feel of a woman in my arms again, but what I really enjoyed was the feeling of not being alone. There is something to be said about human connection. There was nothing sexual about our night together; it was strictly platonic . . . just two friends—consenting adults—engaged in some solid spooning. Nothing wrong with that.
“Why did you trail off like that?” Smalls asks. “Did you fuck her?”
“No. Jesus, man. We just slept. I don’t see Emma like that. She’s a friend, that’s it.” Except when she’s trying out poses from Playboy, showing off all her best attributes. Shit, I can still see that perfect little ass of hers up in the air.
“All right, so things are good now with you two, right?” Racer asks. “So why is your brow creased from looking at a text from her?”
I sigh. Dinner with Emma and Logan. Seems like torture. “Because, we were supposed to have a dinner thing tonight and she’s bringing her friend I don’t like.”
“Her friend?” Smalls wiggles his eyebrows. “A fuck buddy?”
I smack his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s not always about sex.” Logan better not be her fuck buddy. She is so much better than him. Granted, I don’t know him all that well, but he’s a tool. “They’re just friends.”
“She seems to have a lot of ‘friends’.” Racer uses air quotes and it takes all the strength in my body not to pummel him to the ground. These idiots are not helping at all. Usually I welcome their company but for some reason, talking about Emma with them is not sitting well.
I look down at my watch. “Time for you dickheads to get back to work.” I snag my clipboard from the table and make my way to the stairs. I’m going to check out their drywall job, maybe fuck it up a bit so they have to redo it. That’s the kind of mood I’m in.
“You’re so sensitive these days,” Racer says as he chases after me, Smalls closing in behind him. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were developing feelings for this chick.”
That makes me stop my ascent. Spinning on my heels, I look down at Racer and Smalls who have shit-eating grins on their faces. Christ.
“I don’t have feelings for Emma. I’m just protective, I always have been. She’s a good girl and deserves the best, especially after having to put up with all the bullshit our group of friends put her through.”
“And her friend she’s bringing to dinner doesn’t meet your standards?”
“No,” I answer flatly and make my way up the rest of the stairs.
Who knows? Logan could be the greatest fucking guy on the planet but I’m not feeling his vibe. There’s something there, I just don’t know what it is. Call it a friend’s intuition. Call it male intuition.
Once on the second floor, I examine the drywall job. I know I don’t have to, their craftsmanship is impeccable, but I feel like paying back the favor and pushing their buttons, like they’re pushing mine.
“Shit patching,” I mutter and pretend to write something down on my clipboard.
“The fuck it is.” Smalls walks up to the wall and starts running his hand over it. Racer stands to the side, reading my bullshit.
With his arms crossed over his chest, he says, “So you don’t want to be alone with Emma and her friend. Fair enough, invite us over for dinner to be a buffer.”
“Oh, I like dinner,” Smalls chimes in.
That actually isn’t such a bad idea.
“All right, you can come to dinner.” They both fist-pump but I hold up my hand. “On a few conditions; you dickheads bring your own booze.”
“Easy,” Racer remarks.
“And there will be zero tolerance of you hitting on Emma. She’s off limits.”
“Well, fuck.” Racer lets out a long huff of air. “There goes my hot-nurse fantasy. I was looking to fake an injury tonight.”
I point my pen at Racer. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”
When I walk away, I hear Racer and Smalls high-five and then say, “We finally get to see where he lives.”
Shit. I’m going to need more folding chairs.