I put down my tools and began carefully extracting soggy, shredded cardboard from the blades. The work was delicate enough that my full concentration was required, which was a blessing. The problem was simple, finite, and solvable.
Unlike certain other situations.
The sound of the back door opening distracted me.
“Babe?” Jasper called. “Did Brew rescue our poor snowblower? Are we gonna play that game where you teach me a lesson because I’ve been a naughty— Oh. Um. Hi, Brewer.”
“Hey,” I replied without looking up. “Rescue is underway. And then you and Watt can get back to whatever the fuck you?—”
For some reason, I glanced up at that moment, right as Watt stepped over to greet his partner with a kiss that was on the heated side of casual. It wasn’t super risqué, but I found myself unable to look away until the moment had passed.
“I made muffins, if you guys are hungry,” Jasper announced after clearing his throat. He poked Watt lightly in the ribs. “Those chocolate protein ones your kid likes to eat by the dozen.”
Watt grinned, “He has good taste. I’d love one.”
“For a muffin, I might just save this snowblower,” I agreed.
Laughing, Jasper went back inside and returned a moment later with the snacks and coffee. As we ate, Jasper and Watt stood side by side, teasing each other over random stuff, like who ate muffins the most tidily and whether Jasper was, as he claimed, better at “summer chores” than Watt.
The two men were always competitive—anyone who’d ever attended one of their regular “cook-offs” knew they’d throw down over literally anything—but their rivalry was never mean-spirited. It was pretty clear that when they’d gotten together a few months back, twenty years after whatever had ended their childhood friendship, they hadn’t been messing around. No trial period, no let’s-see-where-this-goes. They were a unit, solid and unbreakable, and that made them surprisingly easy to be around.
“Anyway. I’ll let you guys get back to it,” Jasper said. “You’re a miracle worker, Brewer.” He gave Watt’s arm a brief squeeze, then disappeared back into the house, whistling cheerfully.
Watt watched him go with an expression that spoke volumes.
“You’ve got it bad,” I teased, turning back to the snowblower.
“Shut it.” There was no heat in Watt’s words, though, and he was smiling as he knelt back down to hold the flashlight for me.
We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes as I extracted the last of the cardboard and began to reassemble the housing. But my mind kept circling back to the way Watt had looked at Jasper.
It had been similar to the expression Delaney wore when he was deeply interested in something—a kind of open, unguarded focus that seemed to exclude everything else.
“So. I heard you and Delaney had a pretty epic night the other night,” Watt teased.
The wrench I was holding slipped, smashing my thumb against the metal housing.
“Fuck!” I shook out my hand and narrowed my eyes at Watt. “Who said that? Was it Hayes? Because he has no idea what he’s talking about, okay? Delaney is my client. Cli. Ent. And no matter what the gossips in this town say, I?—”
“Brewer.” Watt stared at me, looking utterly confused. “Chill. I heard you knocked down a wall that revealed some hidden paintings or something.”
“Oh.” My face went hot. “That. Yeah. We… we did.”
Watt’s gaze took in my flushed cheeks and my stammering. He looked away, but not before I caught a glimpse of his smile.
“Huh. So what do you know about the paintings? Are they worthwhile?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know much of anything. Delaney’s looking into it, I think. His house, his mystery. And it’s not like he’d tell me since I’m just his contractor and he’s my client.”
“Yeah,” Watt said mildly. “So you said. Client, client, client.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “I can’t imagine why anyone would think otherwise.”
I ducked my head to hide the fact that my face was getting redder. “They wouldn’t. Or theyshouldn’t. You know how town gossip is.”
“Sure do.” He nodded. “I remember when Jasper and I were getting together, the whole town was discussing it.”
I scowled. I was pretty sure he’d purposely picked the one example of town gossip being accurate. “This isn’t like that,” I insisted.
“No, of course not.” Watt overturned a five-gallon bucket and sat on it so he could hold the flashlight steadier. “I get it.”
