Page 23

Rad

“It’s eight fucking thirty in the morning. Does everyone have to drive like bastards?” Horns are blaring, and I’ve been cut off twice. If I get so much as a scratch on my car, I’ll lose my cool.

“How exactly do bastards drive?” Tealey grips the seat with fear.

“You’re witnessing it.” She briefly glances my way with pursed lips. “The other drivers, not me.” With raised eyebrows, she sips from her travel mug, totally judging me. “Fine. I’m one of them.”

“I know you’re excited to move my stuff into storage today, but we’re not in a hurry, Rad.”

“Sarcasm noted, and traffic sucks,” I complain, rolling my palms on the steering wheel. “Is everyone in this city heading to Brooklyn for the weekend?”

“You insisted on driving when we could have taken the subway.”

I throw a look her way. “Yeah. No. Not my idea of a good time.”

“There’s a great farmers' market on Saturday mornings. Maybe people are in a hurry to get their fresh veggies.”

“Like rhubarb.” Hitting another red light, I look her way.

“They’re great in pies,” she replies offhandedly, turning her gaze out the side window.

In the quiet, I take the time to digest the underlying current running between us.

This feels natural, almost to the point of normal, which is a quick turnabout to how we used to be in each other’s company.

I glance over at her, liking the way she looks in my car and enjoying having her in my life. “You’re right.”

“About the pies?”

I chuckle. “About racing to Brooklyn. It’s not so bad driving a little slower.”

Poking me in the arm, she says, “And the company’s good.”

I angle my head toward her, leaning a little closer. “And the company is definitely good.”

When we arrive at Tealey’s apartment, Jackson and Cade are loading the futon into the back of the truck. I park in a delivery zone. Tealey and I get out and walk closer.

“Nice of you to join us,” Cade says, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Tealey starts. “Rad insisted on driving.”

“He never was one for the subway,” Jackson adds, stepping onto the metal ramp and walking backward into the truck.

Apparently, I need to add my two cents into this conversation. “Why take the subway when I can have the love of my life drive me?”

“You let Tealey drive?” My jaw hangs open. Wow. I fire Cade a look of warning to tread lightly. I didn’t expect to be put in the hot seat by my best friend.

“No, I drove?—”

“Good morning.” Cammie breaks the ice that had frozen me to the spot. My gaze darts to Tealey, who appears genuinely interested in my answer, then to Jackson, who’s chuckling. Cammie asks, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” I reply curtly, stalking toward the truck to kick Cade’s ass.

She claps her hands twice. “Then let’s get it done, team. We have lots to do. Hop to it. Cade, I need you upstairs after you load the futon.” Turning to Tealey, she adds, “I have a few questions about the boxes in the corner by the bed.”

I dare to look Tealey’s way again, unsure of what she thinks about Cade spouting shit into the universe like it’s a fact. But her gaze is now trained on the building, and she replies, “On my way.”

They head to the apartment, and I detour to the truck to walk off my aggravation. “You’re an ass, Cade, you know that?”

“It was a joke,” he replies, lifting one side of the futon. “She knows that. You know that. Hell, we all know that. No one thinks you and Tealey would ever hook up.” He laughs. “The odds of that are the same as you letting her drive your car.”

“I …” Wait. What? They all know that Tealey and I would never hook up? Why would they think that? Why is it so outrageous to consider that she and I might be a match?

Something about that rubs me the wrong way and adds to my irritation.

“Guess I must be ignorant when it comes to my own fucking sex life,” I tell Cade.

He quirks a brow. “I didn’t say shit about your sex life.

I assume you have that handled.” He groans as he moves the end of the futon around to get a better grip.

“I will say that after our little chat the other day and your admission about feelings . . .” He grins.

“I’m wondering if you didn’t trip into love. The question is with who?”

“Whom.”

“Whatever,” he replies, setting the futon down.

Jackson carries on by dragging the large piece of furniture to the back of the truck.

I don’t think he’s heard a thing Cade and I were talking about, and I’d like to keep it that way.

Lowering my voice, I give him my in-court glare, the one that levels my opponents into oblivion.

It’s my legal superpower. “I’m not interested in revisiting the conversation from the other day. ”

Jackson comes toward me and jumps off the truck. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I snap.

“Yet you’re defensive about it.” Jackson pats my shoulder when he passes in front of me. “That’s called being grumpy. Come on, grumps. There’s not much to move. I want to get it done in time to watch the game this afternoon.”

We get to work, which gets me off the hook from more awkward, ill-timed conversations and happily distracts me from overthinking it.

After a few trips up and down the stairs, I wipe the beading sweat from my forehead when I walk into the studio apartment again. Cammie instructs me to carry the nightstand. When I pick it up, Tealey is entering the room. She wipes her own brow, then busies herself with a bag.

The piece of furniture is heavier than it looks.

Are the drawers lined with stone? When I reach the second floor, my grip slips on one side, so I set the nightstand down to rearrange.

I wrestle with it again until I get a hold of it and start forward, my view blocked while going down the stairs. “Am I the love of your life, Rad?”

“Shit.” My grip slips, and the nightstand tilts forward. I grapple to hold it, but the drawer shoots like a rocket, crashing to the floor, and the contents fly everywhere.

Tealey gasps and drops to her knees, scrambling to grab stuff before I have time to set the nightstand down. When I do, I say, “I’m sorry. You startled me.” And then drop to my knees to help.

“Don’t look, Rad.” Her voice pitches as she shoves whatever is buzzing behind her back. “Or listen. Close your ears!” she commands.

“I can help.”

“No!” she shouts, panic filling her features, her hands shielding very little from what I can see on the floor. “Look away. Please.”

I turn my back to her, but not before I catch sight of little foil wrappers. Lots of them. Buttons are clicked, the buzzing stops, and the sound of crinkling is heard as she gathers the packets that scrape against the floor.

Although I have no right to have any say in her life, I didn’t need the in-my-face reminder of her .

. . I clear my throat . . . activities with other men.

Sure, she had . . . has every right to a sexual social life, but I prefer to block out that aspect and never think of her with another man again. “Don’t worry?—”

“Worried? Try mortified.”

Though I probably shouldn’t disobey her request, I do. Reaching down, I start picking up the packets that skid next to me, giving her credit where it’s due to help temper her reddening cheeks. “You’re being responsible.” Tossing the packets in the drawer, I add, “And taking care of yourself.”

The humor’s lost on her, judging by how red her face is and her scowl. “We will never speak of this.”

“It’s perfectly fine.”

A hand is clamped over my mouth. “Never, Rad!”

“Got it,” I mumble from behind her fingers.

When she lowers her hand, I hear a heavy swallow before she sets her eyes on me again. “I was kidding with you when I asked if you loved me. I knew you were talking about your car.”

I hand her the last packet, which she takes while squeezing her eyes. “Ugh. I’m never going to live this down, am I?” She tosses it into the drawer and then gets up, shoving the drawer back into the nightstand.

As if I’ve said something, I’m shot another look. But then she softens, and a smile leads to laughter. “Just to clear up any assumptions you might be having, Cammie gave me a box of one hundred condoms as a gift a few years ago.”

Considering the number of condoms we just picked up, I can only assume she hasn’t used many. And I’m not upset. I grin. “They expire, you know?”

She sighs. “It was supposed to be a gag gift. That’s all. I actually forgot about them. I never use that drawer.” She pauses, panic striking her eyes. “Almost never.”

She clears her throat, flustered and searching for an out, but then lays into me again, “With all that I had going on at work, with the move, and searching for a new place, I forgot to clear out this drawer. Happy?”

“Um—” I’m not quite sure how to answer that. “I’m not sure my happi?—”

“I didn’t even think about it until I saw you carrying the nightstand.” Why is she so upset? She’s spinning over something she doesn’t even need to worry about.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Tealey.” I stand back up with the nightstand wrapped in my arms. “I’m going to take this to the truck.”

“Can we pretend this never happened?”

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

“Which secrets?” She smirks.

“Right. That never happened.” She gives me a little wink. I’m a bit slow this morning, but I finally caught on. “Also, never look in my nightstand.” I give her a wink right back.

“Ooh, do tell. What do you keep in your nightstand, Welly?”

“Nothing that innocent eyes like yours should ever see.” I start down the stairs again, chuckling.

“Gah, I’m so intrigued now. Why do you tease me so?” She trails me, giggling.

“Because it’s fun.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I don’t have to turn back to know she rolled her eyes. And she won’t see the big grin I’m wearing the rest of the way down the staircase. I can’t even explain why I’m in such a good mood, other than she just makes me happy.

When I hand the nightstand to Cade, who’s standing in the back of the truck, he says, “About time, man. At this rate, it’s going to take all morning.”