“Um, well, I’ve had ‘buy salt’ on my to-do list for...a while now,” I admit.
She shakes her head as she takes my arm in hers, and we start making our way up to Avenue Mont-Royal.
“You’re always so busy taking care of other people that you never do things for yourself. I’m buying you a bag of salt before we go home today.”
“That is not true!” I protest.
She gives me a look.
“Ilikehelping other people!”
“I didn’t say you don’t enjoy it, or that it’s bad thing to do. You’re the best friend a person could ask for. I just wish you’d ask for more things foryourself.”
I pretend to sulk. “I did ask for a special maid of honour surprise, but you wouldn’t let me have one.”
“You’re right. I’m a monster.”
I reach up and pat her on the head. “At least you’re cute, Nadeau. I don’t why else I keep you around.”
We trudge up the slushy sidewalks of my neighbourhood for the next ten minutes until we get to the even slushier sidewalk of the main road.
“I can’t wait for spring.” Roxanne grimaces as she uses the curb to knock off some of the buildup from the bottom of her shoes.
“I think you mean summer. Spring is just going to turn all these snow banks into soup. Delicious brown street soup that always manages to leak over the top of your boots.”
We both shudder before covering the final block up to Taverne Toulouse.
“It feels like I haven’t visited in forever,” Roxanne says fondly, staring at the garage door-style windows that take up the whole front of the bar. On warm days, we haul them up out of the way and have a patio going outside. “Can we go in and say hi?”
“Roxanne! We are on a very important reconnaissance mission,” I remind her. “Get your head in the game.”
“Right. What’s our plan?”
“Uh...”
I stare over at the neighbouring storefront. The paper is still in place on the windows, but at the very top, I can see the lights are on. There’s a construction company van parked on the street out front.
“We, um, knock on the door?” I supply.
Roxanne shrugs. “D’accord.”
“Wait, no! Roxy, I was joking!”
I chase after her and grab hold of her arm just before she raises it to knock on the glass.
“Woah, check him out.”
She ignores me latching myself onto her arm like a sloth and nods toward the door. The paper has been torn off the glass there, and inside, we can see a group of men all standing together at the back of the room. I don’t even have to ask who Roxanne’s talking about. Three of the men are wearing matching jackets paired with work boots and jeans. One of them is pointing up at the roof while the rest of the group watches him indicate various spots in the ceiling. The fourth man has his back to us, but even from that angle, he’s a showstopper.
“I’ve never seen someone pull off double denim like that,” Roxanne comments.
His collared chambray shirt is a light enough blue that it doesn’t look weird paired with his dark jeans, but honestly, he could probably be in a clown costume and that ass would still be sexy. I don’t think I’ve ever actually felt attracted to a man’s butt before, but damn, I would squeeze that thing so hard.
That was a weird thing to think.
Then he turns slightly so we can catch a glimpse of his profile, and I start to think a lot of other weird things.
“What is he?” I ask, almost breathlessly. “A professor of...sex?”
