Page 29 of Just Business

"I am! Plus, the rent money I'm getting from the apartment helps."

“Heard about that, too.” He smiles at me over his turkey sandwich.

“There are truly no secrets in this town, are there?”

“It’s been a while since you rented it out. But I’m glad it’ll ‘help with the bills.’” Greg puts that last part in air quotes like I have some ulterior motive for renting out the apartment. “Don’t think I didn’t see you two making eyes at each other in there.” He jerks his head toward where Austin is in the other room.

“You’re all meddling. Every last one of you.” I chuckle and throw my balled-up napkin at him. “Not a word about that, Greg!”

“Not a word.” He mimes zipping his lips. “Well, except to Lisa. You know I’m telling her, but she’s a vault. Your secret crush is safe with her.” Lisa really is a vault. When someone tells her something, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t waterboard it out of her.

“Between you and Josie, I don’t know what to do. She’s on me about this, too.”

“Listen, all I’m saying is let your hair down. Have some fun. Make a friend. What's the harm in that?” he asks. “And I’m not really even suggesting dating him, but I haven’t heard a peep about you dating anyone in years. Not since Eric.”

It's true that my dating life has been practically non-existent for years. This is a small town and there aren’t any proverbial fish in the sea here. Every now and then I download a dating app, but between the unsolicited dick pics, the cringey pick-up lines, and the guys with an obvious wedding ring tan line, I've just about given up.

“Greg, you, of all people, know I have to watch everything I do. I have to be on my best behavior all the time.”

“Says who? We’re different here, and you know it.”

“Josie said that too. I swear I think you two have been talking.”

"We’re both saying it because it’s the truth. We might have some gossip, but it doesn’t leave this town. Not a person here would begrudge you a chance to have some fun,” Greg says gently. “Give it some thought. You’re burning the candle at both ends, and you need a break from work sometimes.”

I nod once, and about that time Liam pokes his head in, interrupting us.

“You two ready to get back at it?”

Greg and I both stand, but before we get to the door, he sets a hand on my arm. I look up to see concern in his eyes. “You know we all worry about you. You’ve more than earned some fun in life. Just think about what I said.” He gives my arm a squeeze, and we head back into the studio.

The rest of the day passes as quickly as the first half, and before we know it, we’re wrapping things up. The guys all do that slap-on-the-back thing that guys do, and Austin and I head toward my house. He’s unusually quiet, so I let him be, not filling the silence with unnecessary chatter. He’s had a lot happen in the last few days, and I know as well as anyone how sometimes you just need some time with your thoughts.

When we reach my door, Austin reminds me that dinner is on him. He heads up to shower and I run inside to freshen up. He returns twenty minutes later with damp hair, wearing a black t-shirt that clings to his shoulders and biceps. Before I can do something stupid like run my hands up his rippled chest and drag him to my bedroom, I grab my laptop and take a seat at the table to work on the studio’s social media ads while he cooks.

Wordlessly, he gathers everything from my fridge, tosses a towel over his shoulder, and gets to work.

No matter how hard I try to focus on my work, I can't seem to peel my eyes away from his tanned forearms that flex as he slices and chops. Every romance book I’ve read has a scene where the heroine notices the guy's forearms, and I've always scoffed at it like it's an obligatory thing a romance has to mention. I didn’t know a forearm could be attractive, but here we are: forearm porn on full display. His t-shirt is fitted, and I eye the curve of his bicep stretching against his sleeve.

Austin glances over at me and I quickly avert my eyes, but I hear his rumbly chuckle. There’s no telling what my face was saying while I openly admired him.

I clear my throat, trying to appear nonchalant. “So—um, what are you cooking?

"Sliders with a side salad," he says over his shoulder. “It’s quick and easy, and you’ll have leftovers for lunch.”

My stomach growls loudly, and I know he hears it because he says, “Sounds like I better hurry before you get hangry on me.”

When the food is ready he plates it like we’re at a Michelin-star restaurant, and we sit down to eat. I’m honestly nervous to try it because, like I told him, I’m a picky eater. But it smells delicious with the garlicky butter glaze on top. I take my first bite and a moan slips out before I can stop it. Austin chokes on his water and quickly grabs a napkin to clean up his mess.

“Y’all need a moment alone there?” he teases after regaining control of himself.

"It’s just so good! You said your aunt taught you to cook?"

"Yeah. Aunt Ashley tried to do things one-on-one with each of us. We spent our time together cooking. We still cook together sometimes when I’m in town." His adoration for his aunt is evident from the look on his face. This man, full of all this love for the people in his life, is a far cry from the callous person the media has painted him to be. I don’t know how they got him so wrong.

Every bite on my plate gets devoured, and I even get a second slider while Austin looks on wearing a self-satisfied expression. I can’t remember when I last ate this well and felt this cared for. Food is a love language in and of itself.

Deciding to take Greg and Josie’s advice, and before I can talk myself out of it, I ask, "Do you wanna stay and watch some TV after we clean up? I’m about to start the third season ofSchitt’s Creek, but we can start it over. Or we could watch something else."

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