Page 49 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
“Do you think that we can request more of those muffins from Built Box?” Grant asks. “They were amazing!” He lies on his side on the floor beside Penny, who assembles something with Legos. All of the other childcare kiddos have been retrieved.
I nod. “I don’t know how Diego managed it. I was sure they were going to taste like dirt.”
“Talking about Diego’s muffins?” Helen asks, leaning in from the doorway. Penny turns at the sound of her voice, proudly holding up her work in progress. Helen gives her a thumbs-up— “Looking good, kiddo”—then points to Grant. “You sure you’re okay back here for another fifteen? I’ll shower quick.”
“Take your time!” he says. “My personal training client won’t be in ’til ten.”
“Thank you!” She slumps against the doorframe, eyeing me warily. “Have we been forgiven for this morning yet?”
“We’re good,” I assure her.
She smiles, miming wiping her brow, and freezes, hand still raised, as Alistair passes her on his way into the room. Her eyes follow his shirtless form seemingly unconsciously, tracking him as he crosses the space. He opens the door of the fridge, leaning over to look inside, and as he’s cut off from her line of sight, the compulsion to watch him is severed, and she drops her hand.
“Still could have gone without the ‘Ellie seduces Ian into letting Tom file his taxes’ angle,” I say, just on principle. Helen laughs.
Alistair closes the fridge, shaking a premade protein drink. “Really?” He uncaps the shake. “I didn’t think that’d be a big deal, since you two keep making out.”
The silence that follows is so complete, I flinch at the click of Penny’s Legos.
Alistair takes a drink, then screws the cap back on. His brow furrows as he takes in the three people staring at him. “What? You and Ian?” He crosses toward the door, shaking the bottle. “Like, that first night you showed up? And this weekend?The elevator?” he presses, as though trying to jog my memory.
I stare back, incredulous, but his attention has shifted to the only person in the room unfazed by the bomb he just dropped.
“Yo, Penny! How ’bout some knuckles?” He extends his fist toward Penny, who does the same, bumping hers to his. “This kid rules,” he says to no one in particular, and excuses himself as hewalks past Helen and out of the room, oblivious to the wreckage left in his wake.
Grant stares at me, slack-jawed, and then busts out a huge smile. I’m unwilling to go there, so I look to Helen.
She shrugs, decidedly not shocked by Alistair’s revelation. “Babs and I were here that first Saturday morning. We noticed your reaction to Ian. We figured there was a story there.”
“There’s no story—” I start, but Helen taps her neck, pressing just below her jawbone.
“The man had a”—she glances quickly at her daughter, then mouths—“hickey.”
“I—” My denial gets caught in my throat as a memory unfurls. A quick flash of nuzzling into that tender spot, an experimental lick, then a suck, and the groan it pulled from him that had me going full sexy leech.
My silence speaks for me.
“Congrats, by the way.” Helen’s smiling now. “You’ve succeeded wheremanyhave failed.”
“With my brother!” Grant brays out a laugh.“Gross.”
“And this is common knowledge?” I ask.
“No!” Helen’s assurance comes quickly. “Mostly five a.m. Due to Babs’s rallying efforts. So, Maggie. And Tom. And…”
“So there’s a not-insignificant number of gym members who are comfortable with the idea of me employing my feminine wiles to get Ian to upgrade the pro shop?”
“Whatever gets the job done,” Helen offers. “All right, I gotta shower. Penny, love, see you in a few!” Her daughter gives a thumbs-up in acknowledgment, and Helen departs.
When I look at Grant, I expect to find him still reveling inthe new, apparently gross news of my dalliances with his brother. Instead, he’s frowning, eyes distant before meeting mine.
“Did we ever tell you what happened to his knee?” he asks. “How he was injured?”
“Your summary was enough to keep me from watching the video.”
He grimaces. “Have you noticed how, whenever folks grab extra plates, we stack them in the center of the rig until we need them?” he asks. It takes me a moment to visualize, but I nod. “It’s because of that. Ian was warming up his back squat at a competition and, dumped his bar, but the guy behind him had his plates in Ian’s space. So when Ian bailed, the plates on one end of his bar hit the stack, bounced off them, and collided with the back of his right knee.”
He holds his hands up, just as Diego had during the original telling, and, also like Diego, and Tom this morning, jerks his hands to one side.
