Page 2 of Sofa King Cute

“I did.” Troy looks up from his phone and then back at me. “Oh, you mean that one?”

I press my lips together in a tight line and remind myself that Troy isn’t trying to kill me. He’s just a fucking idiot. After I flip the correct breaker off, I go back to the wires and unhook the water heater.

When my grandma asked me to move to Cottonwood, I was hesitant, and now I remember why. It’s because she thought I’d be a good influence on my cousin Troy. Turns out, no amount of good influence is going to get that little shit to look up from his phone.

After my mom passed away two years ago, my grandma started asking me to move closer to her. My mom had a brother that stayed here after high school, and his son Troy is a constant pain in my ass. I should have known my mom stayed away from this town her whole life for a reason.

I’d had a successful business as an electrician back in Springfield but was feeling like it was time for a change. I should have gotten a dog or something. I’m used to working by myself and not really talking to people. Other than asking people what they want done, I do my thing and stay quiet. Maybe that’s part of the reason my nerves are shot at the end of every day. Troy’s phone fills the silence with bursts of loud music on the videos he watches.

There used to be a rhythm to what I do, but now I’m all thumbs, and it’s pissing me off. I’m a simple man that doesn’t need much, but clearly asking for him to put his goddamn phone down is where the line is drawn.

“Hand me the needle nose pliers,” I say while holding the wires in one hand and reaching out with the other.

“Hmm?” Troy once again doesn’t look up from his phone.

An annoyed huff leaves me as I stop what I’m doing and go to the toolbox to get what I need. If he wasn’t scrolling through videos, I could almost pretend he wasn’t here.

“Hell yeah, Liv has a new TikTok.” He hums appreciatively. “Her tits are so fucking hot.”

Anger burns through me, and I can feel my neck heat. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

Troy’s head snaps up, and I’ve finally got his attention. “Whoa, she’s the one putting them out there.”

He turns the phone around so I can look at the video, and sure enough, the cute little lady at the furniture store is showing off one of her sister's newest pieces. She’s changed her hair to pink this time, and it looks so damn sweet. It suits her. She’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a vintage T-shirt. The shirt's not even a V-neck or cut low; it’s fitted to her curves. Of course, her tits are fucking hot, but he’s talking like she’s naked.

“You need to learn to control yourself,” I warn. My glare makes him swallow hard.

“Sorry, didn’t know you had a thing for her.” He goes back to scrolling on this phone. “Jeez, it’s not like she puts out, anyway.”

“What the fuck did you say?” I toss the pliers in the toolbox and take a step toward him.

“Easy,” he pleads while holding his hands in front of him. “Everyone knows her and her sister are prudes. They were always too good for any of the guys in high school.”

“I can’t imagine why.” I look him up and down and don’t try to hide my repulsion. He’s wearing a pair of cargo shorts that are ratty and stained, and his faded Budweiser shirt has a cigarette burn on the stomach. “With guys like you lining up, I’d imagine it was a hard choice.”

“Right?” He smiles like I’m not this close to wrapping my hands around his throat.

He goes back to his phone, and I shake my head. God, give me strength.

I grab the pliers once again and go back to work. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can dump him at his dad’s garage. I promised to let him come work with me two days a week, and it’s still too damn many.

Once I’ve changed out the wiring, I hook it up to the water heater and turn the power back on. When I’m finished cleaning up, I shove the toolbox in Troy’s chest, and he grabs it as a whoosh of air leaves his lungs.

“Take that to the truck.”

“Okay,” he grunts and fumbles out the door.

“We’re all finished, Mrs. Nelson,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. “It was a quick fix, no charge.”

“Julius Mills, I won’t have that,” the older lady huffs and puts a hand on her hip. “You’ll charge me or I’ll tell your grandmother you stole my silver.”

I tuck my chin to hide my blush. I hate how my cheeks burn every time I get shy. It’s not that I don’t charge for what I do, but when it’s something quick, I usually don’t. It’s served me well in the past and brought me more business than I can keep up with. I’m not hoping Mrs. Nelson is going to send thousands of dollars in business my way. I'm doing this because she’s on a fixed income and friends with my grandma.

“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her and nod toward the counter. “We’re running a special right now on taking payment in the form of pound cake.”

“You keep being sweet to me and I’m gonna scoop you up. You know I’m a widowed woman?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I blush again. I stay quiet as she wraps up the pound cake and makes me promise to come back next week for another.

I get in the truck and put the pound cake on the center console between us. While I’m buckling up, Troy reaches for it.

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