Page 15 of Twice Shy

And he wasn’t wrong.

Three hours later, Joel stood in a soggy patch of gravel next to the outside faucet watching Ollie Snow and his group of kids soaping down their tenth and—please God— final car.

The sun had retreated behind an advancing bank of gray cloud and the day was taking on a decidedly autumnal chill. Especially when you were wearing a pair of damp shorts and a t-shirt that still hadn’t dried off after Troy Miller thought it would be hilarious to spray down his classmates instead of the car.

Troy had been sent home and the rest of them were shivering. Kids, huh? Such a joy.

“Okay!” Joel yelled over the excited chatter. “Rory, Mateo, Shabana—you’re up next. Grab the hose. Mr. Snow, Ellie and Jess—step back or get wet.”

Ollie dumped his sponge in the bucket of soapy water and shepherded his two charges out of the line of fire. He’d ditched his sodden hoodie—another victim of Troy Miller—and his wet t-shirt clung to his lean body.

Not that Joel waslooking. At least, he shouldn’t be looking.

Aware that he was getting distracted—again—he fixed his attention back on the kids. “Okay,” he called. “Ready? Three, two… Hold the hose Rory. No, further up. That’s it. Okay, three, two, one and…go!”

He turned the tap. Water blasted out all over the soapy car, all three kids holding the hose like miniature firefighters and squealing gleefully as they washed the suds away.

“Get the wheels,” Ollie called out. “That’s it. Great job!”

All in all, it had been an enjoyable morning. Everyone had donated generously and, aside from having fun with the kids, they’d made a respectable amount of money for the school. But he couldn’t deny that part of the enjoyment for him had been the buzz he felt every time he caught sight of Ollie Snow. It had been so long since he’d felt anything like attraction to another person that the novelty was…not entirely unpleasant. Less terrifying than he’d expected. The fact that there was zero chance of anything happening between them helped. A harmless crush, that was all. Fun, if nobody knew about it but himself.

And nobody would.

His stomach growled and he pressed a hand to it, embarrassed. During the first year after Helen left, when he was really struggling, he’d found sticking to a firm daily routine had helped him manage his mental health. He usually ate lunch at one o’clock sharp, and his body had gotten used to it. He guessed it had become something of a habit.Or a plaster cast, his inner Amy suggested.A crutch you no longer need.

Maybe a donut would do? He glanced at the refreshment stand and saw Ollie buckling Luis into the stroller, digging out a plastic tub and handing him a breadstick. The kid looked happy, snuggling back contentedly as he gnawed on his snack. Feeling the old, familiar pang of longing, Joel looked away—but not fast enough to avoid catching Ollie’s eye. Again.

After a moment, Ollie came over, struggling to pull the stroller behind him over the gravel. “Tell me that’s the last car,” he said, jamming on the stroller’s break with his foot.

Despite the late September sunshine, it wasn’t warm enough to be standing around in wet clothes and Ollie’s lips had taken on a bluish tinge. “You look cold,” Joel said.

“I’m fine.”

On cue, a sharp onshore breeze rattled the branches, sending a few early-turned leaves fluttering down. Ollie shivered and Joel raised an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

Grinning ruefully, Ollie chafed his arms. “Yeah, yeah. I’m freezing my ass”—a glance at Luis—“assetsoff, you’re right.”

Something about that bashful smile provoked a strong impulse to noogie the guy, or shoulder bump him. Or something. Hastily, Joel turned his attention back to the kids hosing down the car.

“Okay, I think we’re done, guys.” To a chorus of protest, Joel turned the water off. “Any more for anymore?” he called, looking around for any lingering customers and hoping there were none.

Everyone was getting cold now and parents were already retrieving their soggy kids, herding them toward their cars. The party was over. But before Joel could reel in the hose, a shrill voice behind them called out.

“Just one more, Mr. Morgan!” Jackie headed toward him along the porch, towing a reluctant-looking Theo Wishart along with her. “Theo’s made averygenerous donation to the PTA.” Jackie beamed, fluttering her eyelashes. “The least we can do is wash his car.”

Theo shook his head, disengaging his arm. “Oh no, I only wanted to contribute to the fund-raising effort. I don’t even—”

“Of course we’ll wash it!” Jackie trilled.

And by ‘we’ she meant Joel and Ollie. He glanced sideways, caught Ollie’s eye-roll, and smothered a smile.

“Now,” Jackie was saying, “which one is yours, Theo? That cute blue coupe? It’s adorable.”

“Uh, no. I was trying to explain—I don’t own a car.”

“What? Why ever not?”

Theo frowned, scratching his ear self-consciously. “Well. Because I can’t drive.”

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