Page 21 of Rules to Love By

“I’m on it.”

Ambrose topped Eli’s six feet by a couple of inches, and today he had another couple inches tacked on in the form of shimmering platform boots.

“Eli.” He looked down his nose at Eli. “What are you doing here?”

Eli curled a lip. “Cleaning up your mess, apparently.”

Ambrose glanced at the overflowing stock. “Oh.” He waved a hand. “That. It’s fine. Just shove it all in there.”

“It doesn’t all fit in there, Ambrose. And you have six crates of the same brand of straightener, each with one bottle out of them. You can’t keep—”

“Yadda yadda.” He made a talking motion with one hand.

“It needs inventoried.” Eli followed him towards the back of the room.

“So inventory it.” Ambrose stopped to look back at him. “Spreadsheets. Numbers. Product names.” He smiled. “Should only take you into next year or so.”

“Fuck. You.” Eli turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“And who are you?” Behind him, the chiselled meanness of Ambrose’s tone melted to dripping honey.

“Um, Marcus.”

“Are you my nine fifteen?”

Eli turned to see Ambrose fingering the curl that habitually fell into Marcus’s eyes.

“Mmmm. We can do so much with this.”

Marcus flashed a crooked smile, cocked a hip, and tossed his hair back, out of Ambrose’s lazy grip. “I’m the handyman, actually. Your uncle hired me to fix some shelves.”

“And to help me clean up your mess,” Eli blurted, stalking back to stand next to Marcus—definitely not slightly in front of him. Not purposefully, anyway. Arms crossed, heat building along the back of his neck, he managed not to slap Ambrose’s still-raised hand down. But it was close.

“That so?” Ambrose let his gaze crawl up and down Marcus’s frame. “It’ll be nice to see you around, Marc. Glad to meet you.”

“Marcus,” Marcus corrected. “And yeah. Thanks.”

“Marcus.” Ambrose winked. “So formal. We’ll see.”

The arrival of Ambrose’s nine-fifteen appointment saved Eli from having to break his cousin’s nose.

“So now you are helping?” Marcus turned to face Eli.

For a split second, Eli fumbled, caught flatfooted. “It’s… a lot.” He motioned frenetically at the boxes.

Marcus smiled—that crooked, flirty smile. It caught his dimple in its embrace and flashed through his eyes, which maybe it hadn’t done when he’d aimed it at Ambrose. “It really is a lot.” His gaze flicked to Ambrose and back again. “Really a lot.”

CHAPTERFIVE

Marcus hadn’t missed Ambrose’s blatant flirting. He’d have had to be deaf and blind not to notice. Eli’s bristling had been less obvious, but it was there. At least, he was pretty sure it was there.

But he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it.

Ambrose was easy. If Marcus wanted him, he’d have him. Low-hanging fruit. Easy pickings. It was a simple offer of a simple affair that would end, no doubt, the minute Ambrose spotted something newer and shinier.

Which was fine. Marcus was used to that. He was shiny at first too. Shiny tarnished quickly.

Eli, he didn’t understand. The man ran hot and cold so unpredictably, Marcus had no idea how to prepare for it.

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