“Her kids?” I asked, alarmed.
“No.” He chuckled. “No, Cinda is a professional babysitter. She’s always busy. If she’s home, she has somebody’s kids with her. Even at night. She makes a killing,” he said, pushing open his door. “She also sits for me because I’m gone so much. I probably shouldn’t have gotten a dog, but Quinn didn’t want him, and it seemed like a Good Samaritan thing to do at the time …” His voice trailed off as he opened the door to his apartment.
His apartment was blank like mine, just a ratty couch, recliner, and hutch in the living room. I breathed in, and instead of chicken vomit or baba ganoush, I smelled bleach, mint, and Josh’s cologne.
“Lived here long?” I asked.
“Nope. Just a few months. I had to find something quick so I could stop couch surfing.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
“Why was I couch surfing?”
I nodded.
“Because I’d just moved to town.”
“Why?”
“Damn.” He grinned. “Didn’t know this was going to turn into the Spanish Inquisition.”
I clutched my arms. The air conditioning was on full blast. “I’m alone with you in your apartment. I think I’m entitled to the basics.”
“You cold?” he asked.
“It feels like a meat locker in here.”
“I sleep better that way.”
“How do you afford the bill?” I asked.
Josh disappeared into a doorway and then came out holding a gray hoodie. He tossed it to me. “Put it on. It’s really warm.”
I looked down. “I don’t think you want it against my scrubs.”
“C’mon, like I don’t get lathered in bodily fluids all day? It’ll buff out. Put it on before you freeze.”
“Buff out? That’s an odd thing to say.”
He shrugged. “Like buffing a scratch from a car. My dad used to always say it for everything. We’re gearheads. I get elbow deep in grease on a regular basis. It relaxes me. Clears my head.”
I slipped the hoodie over my head. A green Adidas logo was stamped on the front, and it happened to be the softest thing I’d even worn. “God, this is amazing.”
“Isn’t it? It’s my favorite.”
The gesture wasn’t lost on me that he’d handed me his favorite sweatshirt to wear. “I’ll get it back to you after I wash it.”
“No rush … There you are!” he said, grabbing his wallet off the hutch and stuffing it into his back pocket.
“Now we can go. Sorry about that.” He called his dog, reaching down to pet him.
“That’s an awful name. Sounds like a serial killer,” I said.
Josh feigned offense. “You don’t like it? Okay, you name him, then.”
“What? No. I just meant …”
Josh stood, crossing his arms. “I’m serious. Give him a better name if you don’t like it.”
“Like a nickname?”
“Yeah. I’m still calling him …” Tiny whimpers came from the floor, and I bent over to run my fingers through coarse black and brown hair. “Didi,” I said. “That’s close enough to what he’s used to, so I don’t confuse him.”
Josh wrinkled his nose. “He’s a boy, Avery.”
“Fine, just Dee, then.”
“Dee it is,” Josh said, bending over to ruffle the hair on Dee’s head. “I’ll be back later.”
Dee whined when we approached the door.
My mouth curved down. He looked so lonely, and I knew exactly how that felt. “You just got home. Maybe we should stay here?”
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yeah, we can have JayWok deliver and watch a movie.”
Josh shook his head. “No movies. I’m kind of enjoying the inquisition.” He jogged back to the door, opened it, and then grabbed his phone. The dog wiggled its butt against Josh’s ankles again, and then ran over to me. I picked him up and sat on the couch.
“Hey, it’s Josh.”