Page 30 of Building Romance
I realize Fletcher is gripping my hip as if afraid I’ll tumble over the window ledge. I have nowhere to step, so I lean back into him and hold up the donkey.
“I think we have a mascot,” I say dryly.
“Uh, can we wash him?” he asks.
I tilt my head to look up at him and he looks down at me. “Do you think he’d survive that?”
Fletcher grimaces. “Probably not.”
“Then, no. Mr. Pickles is coming as is,” I say as I look back at the stuffed animal. My phone pings in my pocket and I pull it out to see a message from Al.
Al: I hope you don’t mind. I let Fletcher in.
I sigh and I feel Fletcher’s neck crane to read my text. I don’t have to turn to know the jackass is smirking.
Me: It’s fine.
I lie. What was Al thinking? I decide to yell at him over drinks when I get back. I don’t have time right now.
The front door opens and Fletcher steps away from me.
“Honey! I’m home,” Drew’s voice echoes throughout the apartment.
I turn to see Fletcher raising one eyebrow.
Drew appears in my doorway and the look of surprise is so good, I almost want to take a photo.
“Oh, I, uh, didn’t know you had company,” he says and his facial features start morphing into a knowing look. Fuck my life.
“I don’t. I mean, he’s not my guest. I mean, we’re just leaving,” I stammer as I try to form a sentence.
Fletcher suddenly finds his manners and walks over to Drew, holding out his hand. “Fletcher,” he introduces himself.
Drew shakes it and then glances over Fletcher’s shoulder at me. I roll my eyes and he smirks.
“So, how’s it feel to be the neighborhood jackass?” he asks Fletcher.
Fletcher’s moving arm stops and Drew steps back.
“I didn’t know such a title existed,” Fletcher grumbles.
“Oh, it does and you are it. Best of luck opening your store,” he says and looks back at me. “Good luck, Camelot. You got this,” he adds with a wink. I groan. I hate it when he uses old nicknames.
Fletcher turns and I can tell he loves that Drew just let slip a nickname. I want to murder both of them but I don’t have time.
“OK, then, let’s go,” I urge as I stuff Mr. Pickles into a bag I find lying on a chair and then grab my suitcase and oversized purse.
“You’re wearing that?” Fletcher asks as he looks at me. I’m in jean shorts and a T-shirt because I was planning to change for the opening meeting after we get settled at this place where we’re staying.
“Yep,” I state not explaining anymore because I’m annoyed and also want Fletcher to sweat a little.
He sighs and takes my suitcase from me. “Fine. Let’s go. Nice meeting you…Darryl?” he says to Drew.
Drew glares at him. “Drew,” he corrects.
“Right. Nice meeting you, Drew,” Fletcher says, drawing out Drew’s name. I watch the two of them do some sort of male testosterone standoff and I roll my eyes.
I grab Fletcher’s forearm and yank on it. “Let’s go.”
