Page 8 of Just the Tipsy
“So maybe we’ll have better luck with an axe murderer,” I say with a snort. “Thank you for helping.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem. I heard you screaming and…” He shrugs.
I finally let myself take Waylon in. I’ve only seen him in scrubs, but now he’s in a blue t-shirt and black joggers, which fit him to perfection. My hand remembers that light squeeze to his bicep and how muscular he felt too. Where else does he feel that good?
His eyes skim over me too, riding the line between polite and heated. I was going to workout before taking my new toys for a spin, so I’m in next to nothing — a workout unitard that rides up high on my thighs and cuts low in the back.
I like the way he looks at me too much. Especially now that the cringe scales of the universe have been recalibrated.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t squish the spider,” he says, tucking a hand into his pocket. “Sometimes those spiders are pregnant and a bunch of their babies come out if you squish them.”
My eyes widen, and he quickly adds, “But they’re not too common. You probably would have been fine.”
“It would be just my luck to have a whole bunch of them in the house.” I sigh. “Do you want something to drink? I mostly have seltzer. Regular and hard seltzer. And a bunch of non-dairy milk. I can’t have dairy, so sorry if you wanted a tall glass of milk for some reason.”
Apparently, my mouth and my brain aren’t quite in sync when it comes to speaking to Waylon. Who the hell would ask for a glass of milk in this scenario?
“Regular seltzer would be great, thanks.” He leans against the wall and Sadie walks up to him, her mostly hairless butt wagging back and forth. “Is this house giving you a lot of trouble?”
“Yeah.” I grab two seltzers. All my motivation to workout is gone. “I moved here kind of fast so I haven’t really had the chance to catalog it all. But a lot of stuff needs fixing and I don’t have a single handy bone in my body.”
“Oh, and there’s the problem with that tree that’s growing between our fences,” he says, scooping Sadie up with one hand. “It’s not that big of a problem right now but it will be in a few months when it gets rainy. I’m happy to help with that since the fences can be a bit of a project.”
“You don’t have to do all that.” I open a seltzer and hand it to him. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
“It affects us both, so I don’t mind. And I’m a whole lot cheaper,” he says, taking a sip of seltzer. “I can even fix a few things in here too if you need it. I’m right there.”
I bite my bottom lip. I’m not hurting for cash at the moment, but I’d love to save as much as possible for moving to New York and investing in the spa without need to do some dumb influencer posts that I hate doing just for money.
“You really wouldn’t mind that much?” I ask.
“No, it’s fine. Like I said, it affects both of us and it can be a bit of a hassle to deal with,” he says. Sadie licks the side of his can and he holds it out of her way.
“Okay, but I’d have to do something for you in return,” I say. “I wish I knew what.”
“Unless you want to come to this family barbecue for my brother’s engagement with me, I don’t know either,” he says.
He seems like he’s half-joking, but still, I say, “Sure, if you need someone to come.”
He blinks. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, why not?” I shrug. “Sounds easy enough.”
“That would be a massive help.” He puts Sadie down and she trots over to me. “My mom’s a little obsessed with setting me up with someone. We wouldn’t have to pretend to be serious, but we could at least hold her back a little bit. At least until I think of something else to do for the next event.”
“A stopgap,” I add.
“Exactly.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been a fake date before,” I say. My PR team had set me up on some to distract the press from whatever scandal was happening — on my end or my fake date’s. “Sometimes just being seen with someone once is enough to get whatever narrative you want out there.”
“Thank you. Seriously.” At least twenty pounds of weight seems to lift off his shoulders. “I can text you the details if you give me your number.”
We exchange numbers and he texts me the time and location of the party. Is this a terrible idea? How bad could a barbecue be?
He heads out with Duke after giving the kitchen one more check for mutant spiders, leaving me and Sadie alone. She follows me into the living room, where I’ve set up my mat for my workout, and steps back into her fluffy pink bed.
Right as I turn on my video, my phone rings. It’s an unknown number with an LA area code, so I hesitate. It might be a loose end from back in LA. Or it might be the last person I want to hear from.
