Page 44 of I'm Your Guy
It’s pathetic. I don’t know why I’m so invested in this client. It’s not just the project, although I’m enjoying the work.
Maybe it’s the hockey. I’ve watched more sportsing this week than ever before in my life. I don’t always understand the game. But the sight of all those male bodies colliding is damn sexy. The speed. The action. The friendly butt pats. Who knew?
The fights are not a selling point. I don’t really get it. And when Tommaso lost it at that guy tonight, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes.
He looked angry. Like there was more at stake than a tie game. And by the time he’d finished his penalty minutes, I’d decided that he must have had a reason. Not that I’m going to ask what it was.
The truth is that I’m crazy about Tommaso. Every time we interact, I appreciate him a little more, even if I don’t always understand him. There’s a lot of depth to him that he’s reluctant for others to see. And I can tell that he saves up his smiles for special occasions.
Which means that every time he smiles at me, it’s like winning a prize.
I let out a sigh, and luckily there’s nobody around to overhear it. Crushing on clients is dumb. And crushing on straight clients is twice as dumb. I know this. But I can’t seem to stop checking my phone anyway.
Finally, at midnight, he replies.
Dude, you’re killing me. I needed that laugh so bad. But people on the bus were staring, so I had to wait to check into my hotel room to watch it again.
And, yup, I feel like I’ve won the lottery. This time it’s me who hits that little video call button.
For business reasons, of course. I need to know which bed he likes best.
He answers immediately. And there’s my client, shirtless, like last time.
In bed, like last time.
My foolish heart goes thumpity-thump. “Hey, Jersey. So I guess I got your attention?”
“You could say that.” He slowly grins, and I’ve won the lottery again.
Except for one problem. “Is your lip okay? That looks painful.”
He touches a knuckle to his split lip and then shrugs. “I’m just lucky it’s not worse.”
“So…” Oh hell. I guess I’ll just go for it. “What happened there?”
He leans back against the pillow and sighs. “That guy is a dick, and his chirps got personal. He was spoiling for a fight, so I gave him one. Now my face hurts, my hand hurts, and Coach is pissed off. At least we got the win.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Did you, um, care for any of these beds?”
“Wait. There was furniture in that video?”
“Dude.”
We both laugh, and then I realize something crucial. Sure, he might just be joking, but he basically just said that he was paying too much attention to me to notice the beds.
I feel warm all over.
“Seriously, you made that fun.” He tips his head back, and I can’t help but notice all the muscle definition in his neck and shoulders. “It’s been a day. And I guess I like that last one—the platform. That looked good.”
“Excellent! I like that one for you. What’s your second choice?”
He smirks, but it looks tired. “I can’t pick the four-poster, or you’ll wonder about my hobbies.”
“No, I won’t. I swear.”
“Joking.” The smirk gets bigger. “The captain one, I guess. The other two make too much of a statement, if that makes sense.”
“Sure. Now what about bedding? We’re replacing your quilt? No offense, but it looks like you’ve had it since high school.”
