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Cat was well-known at the permitting office and had even grown up with a few of the people who worked there, so it wasn’t at all surprising to Spencer that her estimate had been spot-on. They were starting demo on Monday, which was why Spencer was standing on the lawn in front of the Brown Street house on a Saturday evening instead of . . . well, probably sitting on his couch with Norman.

A silver Prius pulled up to the curb, and Ian got out wearing matching gray sweats and very . . . comfortable-looking New Balances. There was something sort of warm and adorable about it. Spencer didn’t realize he was staring until Ian said, “Sorry,”

and came around the car. “I just finished working.”

Spencer looked him up and down again before clearing his throat and asking, “Do you work from home?”

Ian looked down at what he was wearing as though he’d forgotten and let out a quiet laugh. Spencer found himself leaning in, trying to chase the sound. “No, I work at a hospital. I’m an ER doctor.”

“Oh, I just assumed everyone at the hospital wore scrubs,”

Spencer said without thinking.

Ian cocked an eyebrow, suddenly looking very much like the kind of person who responded to emergencies for a living. “The scrubs aren’t allowed to leave the hospital. Because of . . . the fluids.”

Right. Because while Spencer could walk out of any jobsite covered in dust and sweat, Ian couldn’t leave a hospital with someone else’s blood on his clothes. He felt his face heat. “I’m really sorry. I swear I’m not usually this awkward.”

“No, no.”

Ian leaned back against the car, hands in the pockets of his sweats, a hint of a smile still making his face exceedingly interesting to look at. “It’s me. I usually go straight home after a twelve-hour shift so no one has to deal with me, but I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

He pulled two sets of keys out of his pocket and placed them in Spencer’s hand.

“Do you work at Berkshire Medical Center?”

Cool, Spencer, super-invasive question.

Ian didn’t seem put off by it, though. “Fairview Hospital. I live in Stockbridge.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay driving all that way? Twelve hours is a long shift.”

Spencer tried to put his hands in the pockets of his fairly tight jeans, realized his hands had keys in them, and dropped his arms to his sides as nonchalantly as possible.

“I’ll be fine. I’m used to it. It’s, you know, my job.”

Ian’s eyes lit up as though that were maybe a bit of a joke.

Spencer shook his head slightly, needing to get back on track. The more time he spent memorizing the minute changes in Ian’s face, the less stable his legs felt. “So the crew will be here first thing on Monday to start demo. Since the house is empty, we’ll be able to get going right away. You will have to come back at some point next week to take anything out of the basement that you don’t want to end up in the dumpster.”

Something dark passed over Ian’s face. Spencer wasn’t sure, but he did seem legitimately a bit scared of the basement. Though it also could have just been the terrible lighting on this street where the streetlamps were spaced a bit too far apart. The city should really do something about that. “Sorry, this is a ridiculous leftover from my childhood.”

He shook his head as though that would knock the idea loose, and Spencer momentarily thought about running his hands through Ian’s messy hair to put it back in place.

“Do you maybe have any friends who could help you out?”

“No,”

he said, almost too abruptly. “I mean, I have friends. In general. But I haven’t really . . . told anyone about the house.”

Well, that was . . . odd. Though Spencer started thinking about how recently Ian had inherited the house and imagining him digging through that mess of a basement all alone, and he suddenly felt unbearably sad. “I can help you.”

“What? No.”

Ian startled and stood up off the car. “I mean, thank you for the offer, but your time is valuable, and I’m sure that wasn’t a line item in the budget.”

He looked tired, and that was probably from work but, Spencer imagined, a bit existential, too. This man who read budgets line by line and planned to clean out a haunted basement by himself because no one in his life knew he owned this wreck of a house.

“It’s not usually part of the service, but I saw some good stuff down there. Anything you don’t want I can use in other projects. Call it payment in kind for any labor I do hauling stuff to the dumpster.”

He felt slightly hopeful, and he wondered if that showed on his face because why the hell was he currently trying to convince this man to let him have his trash?

Ian’s posture visibly eased. “If you’re sure. I would imagine you can have most of it, honestly. I don’t even really know what’s down there.”

Spencer tried to fight the excitement building in his chest. “Can you come by on Wednesday? The crew will be on another job, so we won’t be in the way.”

Ian frowned. “I’m working Wednesday.”

Spencer recalculated in his head. “How about Thursday after five? They’ll have shut down for the day. Then they can demo the basement on Friday.”

“That would be great. Thank you. For everything.”

Ian shook Spencer’s hand, and Spencer realized his skin was soft, if a little dry. Then he walked around the car to the driver’s side. But before he got in, he leaned over the roof. “You really made it look like it’s alive again.”

Spencer smiled. That was maybe the nicest thing anyone had ever said about any of his work. “Well, that’s my job.”

He winked, and Jesus Christ, that was not a thing he did regularly. Best not to give Ian that impression.

Ian laughed again, quiet and short but genuinely pleased, then got into his car. Spencer watched him drive away, then picked his bike up off the grass and headed home.