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“Then don’t.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Dude, if you like him, you like him.”
I groaned. “But that’s terrifying.”
“Yeah, well, so is eating gas station sushi, but you do that, too.”
“Wow. Stunning analogy.” I snorted. “And no, I don’t.”
Mateo laughed. “Look, man, if you’re scared, that’s fine, but don’t talk yourself out of something just because it got a little real.”
I exhaled.
Let the words settle.
Because he was right.
And I knew exactly what I wanted.
Chapter nineteen
Elliot
Whenpreparingforahurricane and the possible extended out-of-town adventure that might entail, most linemen spend a little more time with family, wrap up projects around the house, or do whatever their spouse considers important. Leaving the house for weeks, heading into a weather war zone, was unwise unless those back at home were well tended and happy.
Alas, my home remained empty. I had no spouse or mile-long honey-do list to complete. I didn’t even have a crank cat who might need feeding or litter boxing or whatever one did with pitiful pussies. They weren’t really my thing.
I had, however, cobbled together a group of misfits, forming a found family crazy enough to rival any TV sitcom cast. So, with only a week or so before landfall, I reluctantly opened my phone and began a group text.
Me: I’m being sent to FL for storm cleanup. We need to get together. A Last Supper sort of tradition.
Sisi: You’re not allowed to die on us.
Matty: What does one wear to a hurricane cleanup? Are heels appropriate or would they get stuck in the rubble?
Omar: I agree with Sisi. Dying is bad. I don’t recommend it.
I sighed into the screen. Why did I expect anything less than sarcasm from this group?
Me: Let me reiterate, I am being sent to FL for storm cleanup, not to stand at the docks and let Mother Earth beat me bloody.
Matty: That’s a shame. You could call it a meteorological spanking. I bet there’s even a fetish group for that.
Sisi: Lord knows, Elliot needs a fetish.
Me: Hey!
Omar: Are we going to talk about Elliot’s sex life now? I only want to know so I can brace myself for all the boredom and empty texts.
Me: Omar!
Sisi: OMG. I think the Brit just summed up Elliot in one text. Matty, move over. I’m marrying your man.
Matty: Hands off, Sarah Jessica Parker. I’ve already planted my flag in Great Britain’s shores.
Omar: God, I love your flag.