Page 68 of Love is an Open Book
“No.” I send silent vibes for Mia to stay put but have no doubt she will. She didn’t even want to discuss the change in our relationship with me. I’m sure the last thing she wants is Morris finding out. “But we should get started. The day will heat up fast. Let me change and I’ll meet you out back.”
He narrows his eyes, then shrugs. “Whatever. But I’m not leaving without seeing those kittens. I gotta make sure you’re doing right by them.”
“Chill. I spent half of yesterday getting them settled in.” Once he heads around the house toward the deck, I close the door and jog-step to the bedroom, but Mia’s not there. I hear voices in the backyard and peek through the blinds. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Mia is coming out of the garden shed, fully clothed in her shorts from yesterday and what I recognize as one of my T-shirts, knotted at her waist, waving a gloved hand at Morris. What she’s telling him, I have no idea, but damn if I’m not once again impressed by her.
Here I was fumbling, and all the while Mia was executing a plan. Thinking on her feet in a way that astounds me but alsounnerves me. Does she care that much about Morris drawing conclusions? Then again, it’s none of his business. I push the clench of worry aside, riffling through my drawer for an old shirt and pair of gym shorts. It would’ve been awkward for him to walk in on our cozy breakfast, even if she was my girlfriend. Right?
Tugging the shirt over my disheveled hair, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look frantic, stressed, the exact opposite of Mia’s calm demeanor. I need to get it together, to prove I can support her in this. That she can trust me, like always. And then I need to convince her we can make a go of this, for real.
When I come outside, Mia is in the middle of telling Morris she’d just arrived to help with the staining, too.
“And this dude had the nerve to come to the door half dressed,” she says, shaking her head like she can’t believe my flakiness. She’s putting on a show to deflect his attention from the two of us, but it stings a little, the memories of all the other times she’s gotten frustrated at my forgetfulness. Once again, the way details slip my mind almost got us in trouble.
“You’re telling me you guys have been friends since college and you’ve never seen Gavin shirtless?”
She laughs. “Are you kidding? More times than I can count. We used to go to the beach in Chicago most summer weekends. But I wasn’t expecting to be confronted by his bare chest this early in the morning.” She slants me a small smile, and I see the truth in it. Truth and more than a little lingering lust. Her appreciative look eases the sting of the teasing, and I jump in.
“Don’t go getting any ideas, Morris.” I gesture at his shirt. “If you don’t want that ruined, I’ve got an old shirt you can borrow, but this is not a clothing-optional activity.”
“Bummer,” he says, shifting his gaze toward where Mia is selecting a paintbrush from the box she brought out of the shed.
Part of me wants to tell him to cut it out, but he’s not beingcreepy about it. If Mia and I were just friends, I would do my best not to get in the way of something developing between them, like I always have with other men she’s been interested in. And she doesn’t want me to act differently around her in public, that much was clear from our 3:00 a.m. conversation, even if nothing else is.
So I grit my teeth and try not to stomp on the way to the shed to grab the extra cans of wood stain.
“You’ve got to make long strokes with the brush,” Morris says. He drags the bristles along the plank above his head, shirt hitching up with the motion to reveal a swath of ripped abs. Unlike me, he does more than just garden for a workout, and it shows.
He’s been playing teacher for the past half hour, and I’m honestly not sure if he’s doing it to screw with my head or because he’s genuinely into her. Given the way he’s asked her about a million questions about herself, I’m going with the latter.
My mind goes to the list of tropes in the binder.Jealous love interest.That one was near the bottom of the list, one Mia said readers love or hate. I don’t want to be that guy, the one feeling possessive, or jealous of anyone who so much as looks at the lady he likes. But I can’t deny that Mia not wanting to define our relationship makes me feel unsure of where we stand.
Morris is a good-looking guy, if you’re into the bearded, burly lumberjack type, which pretty much everyone is, judging by how often he ends up with someone’s number at the bar without even asking. And the times when he chooses to put on the charm, like now? Riley once told him it was like looking into the sun during an eclipse: stunning, disorienting, but so worth the experience.
While I disagree about blindness being an acceptable side effect, Riley wasn’t wrong about his ability to be charming. Mia has turned the tables, showing him how to blend the extrastain, and he’s watching her closely, laughing at himself when he fails to replicate her even strokes.
I know it’s just Mia being herself. The kind of person who gets along with everyone—well, anyone who’s not an outright jerk. But she’s keeping herself distant from me, trying not to tip Morris off to what’s going on, and I miss our usual closeness.
Normally we’d be joking around, teasing each other about our technique. She’d threaten to sign her name somewhere, and I’d dare her to do it, knowing she couldn’t handle the imperfection of it. But today I feel like I have to be on my best behavior, weighing every word for innuendo, when we usually try to outdo each other in that area.
But after another hour, I can’t take it any longer. I need a break from playing pretend, like we’re even less than friends. This is the most I’ve had to put on an act since we agreed to the experiment, and we’re not even testing a trope right now.
“Anyone want a drink?” I set down my paintbrush and motion toward the house.
“I could use one,” Mia says. “I’ll get them. I need to use the bathroom anyway.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, but she’s already headed inside, probably hoping for a break from the heat. Morris climbs off the ladder and joins me in the shade.
“You sure you two aren’t a thing?” Morris uses his forearm to wipe sweat off his brow. “Because if not, then I need to seriously up my game.”
“Just because she’s not into you doesn’t mean she’s into me,” I say. “It is possible for a woman to resist your charm.”
“Normally I’d disagree with you, but I pulled out all the stops, and she all but fell off the ladder watching you.”
It’s ridiculous how happy hearing that makes me, even after what we did last night. “I didn’t notice her looking.”
“That’s because you’ve been in a mood all morning. It’s justlike the other day. She checked you out more times than I can count. Riley and I did a tally afterward—”
“You what?”
