Page 45 of I'm Your Guy
“So what if I have? Don’t judge.”
I cackle. “Your frugality is commendable. And so was your taste in high school. When I was a teenager, I designed a pillow with Harry Styles’s face on it.”
A grin splits his beard. “I might need to see that.”
“No, you don’t,” I say firmly. “I’ve grown as a designer since then. And don’t ask me what I used it for.”
He throws his head back and howls, and I admire his strong jaw.
Is there any embarrassing thing I won’t say just to make this man laugh? Probably not. “Talk to me about colors in your bedroom.”
He shakes his head. “You’re the color guy.”
“Yeah, but your fixation with team colors is a minefield I can’t cross alone. Although the bedroom is the most private room in your house. So if you have a fetish for the wrong team’s colors, nobody has to know.” I wink.
He rolls his eyes. “Let’s keep it simple. I’ve always liked navy blue. Dark green is okay, too. Not into bright patterns.”
“Fair, fair. You want me to just pick stuff that I think you’ll like?”
“Of course, I do. You’re the one who insists on discussing this stuff.” He shrugs. “And feel free to do the guestroom however you think it should be done. You can send me links if you want, but you could also surprise me.”
“Good, because I found that bed at the mattress store, of all places. Don’t tell anyone that I chose a piece of furniture from Bob’s Denver Bedrooms. They’ll take away my bougie card. But Bob gave us a package deal and free delivery at the end of this week.”
“Hooray for Bob,” my client says.
“Bob for President,” I add cheerfully. “Do you have more sportsing to do tomorrow? Should I let you go?”
His smile drops again. It often does that when I mention hockey. “We’ll have practice, but the game is the following day. That means downtime.”
“You say ‘downtime’ the way other people say ‘oral surgery.’”
“I know.” He rubs his forehead again. “More time for the doom loop.”
“Hmm. If tomorrow were my day off, I’d be googling the best gay bars in Boston. Then I’d get my drink on.”
I expect a laugh, but his stare turns unexpectedly intense. “Getting shitfaced the night before a game is probably not a great strategy. Although it is tempting.”
“Uh, good point.” Way to sound like a professional. “Follow me for more wellness tips. I’m here all week.”
I get another smile from him. “Your wellness tips are some of my favorites. Honest.”
And now I’m all gooey inside. “I’m doing my best with what I’ve got. Can’t make your job easier, but I can make your backside more comfortable when you come home.”
He swallows roughly. “I’m starting to appreciate that.”
“We all need a refuge, Tommaso. Even tough guys like you.”
He nods, and now we’re having a staring contest of startling intensity. His gaze is almost heated.
Then he licks his lips, and maybe I’m having a fever dream.
“I’d better go,” he says quietly. “Thank you for all that you do for me.”
That’s not all I could do for you…
I mentally slap myself. “Take care,” I say, my voice like gravel. Horny gravel.
“Good night.”
