“Gavin, and I’ll keep an eye out for that.”
Derrick ducked his head at the reminder as Gavin gestured for him to lead the way out of the office. “Gavin. Right. Sorry.”
“So what is that hint of southern accent I keep hearing in your voice here and there?” Gavin asked as he accompanied Derrick toward the door. That flirtatious note was back.
Derrick smiled. “Tennessee. Lived down there until I was fourteen.”
“Just one of those things that never goes away completely, huh?” Gavin’s long, elegant fingers wrapped around the door knob. Derrick had to tear his eyes off them, wondering if they were as gentle and deft as they appeared.
He didn’t seem in any rush to open the door.
“Pretty much,” Derrick said, rubbing the back of his neck under Gavin’s inquisitive regard. “My neighbor, Miss Ingrid, is from Sweden. She moved here sixty years ago and you can still hear it in her voice.”
“And you’ve got the southern charm to go with it,” Gavin murmured. Before a proper blush could spread up from Derrick’s neck, however, Gavin shook his head, something close to regret crossing his face. He turned the knob and held the door open.
“Thanks again. For the shelves.”
“Sure. Thanks for your business.” Sensing the shift in Gavin’s tone, Derrick retreated into his professional persona. “I’ll send that invoice along. Take care.”
It was over. Whatever that undercurrent of awareness had been, amplified by Gavin’s flirty games, it was done. He’d never see Gavin Hayes again. It was time to get back to life as usual.
The idea didn’t have the appeal it had once had.
On his way home from his afternoon job on Tuesday, his cell phone rang. He blinked when he saw the caller I.D.
“Derrick Chance.”
“Hi. This is Gavin Hayes.”
He wasn’t sure if he was nervous or thrilled. Maybe somewhere in between. Whatever it was, it took effort to sound professional.
“Sure. What can I do for you? Everything okay with the shelves?”
“Huh? Oh, the shelves are great.” The voice on the other end paused, hesitated, and then rushed forward. “I’m having an issue with my dishwasher, though, and I’m hoping you can help me out.”
Derrick began to smile.
GAVIN WAS AN EVEN LESS PROFICIENT SABOTEUR than he was a handyman, Derrick thought, covering a smile with his hand as he surveyed the damage to the strike plate of Gavin’s dishwasher.
And across the kitchen, Gavin leaned on the breakfast bar with his arms folded across his chest and a reckless, challenging grin on his face, waiting to see how he’d react.
Once he felt like he had the urge to laugh under control, Derrick let his tool bag slide off his shoulder and eased down the dishwasher door before squatting next to it.
“Glad I thought to ask the model when you called,” he said with an easy-going shrug, pulling out a new strike plate. Business as usual. It had been easy to guess which part was broken from the way Gavin had described the problem. But the deliberate damage caught him off-guard.
So much for not escalating the game.
“See this sort of thing often, do you?” Gavin asked slyly.
He didn’t know if he was witty enough to meet Gavin entendre for entendre, but he was damn sure gonna try.
“Nope,” he said, pulling out a screwdriver and removing the screws that held the mangled strike plate in place. “Can’t say this has ever happened before.”
“That’s a surprise. I would think your phone would be ringing non-stop for these sorts of repairs.” Derrick flushed, but he didn’t have long to consider the implied compliment. Gavin’s voice was a little softer as he asked, “Should I do something differently to prevent this from happening in the future?”
“Well, what happened here is a sort of fluke.” Derrick held up the bent piece of metal, meeting Gavin’s eyes as frankly as he could, considering that what they were talking about wasn’t actually what they were talking about. “I don’t mind the extra work a bit, but I’m sure chances of it happening again are slim. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Gavin nodded, biting his lower lip. “Ah. That’s a relief.”
“Yeah. Maybe next time just try to be a bit more careful with hammers around your dishwasher.” Derrick smiled calmly as he looked down, concentrating on screwing the new strike plate in place, before he added, “I brought the leveling feet for your desk, if you still wanted to have that fixed. I’ve got the time.”
He hadn’t been certain he would mention that he’d actually brought the parts, not until he saw what Gavin had done to the dishwasher. He’d only bought them because he’d promised he would.
It was worth it, to see Gavin caught off his guard, and the grin that spread over his face as he recovered. “Great. I’ll go empty it out, then.”
Derrick finished installing the new strike plate and tested it in silence. He wondered just what they thought they were doing. He knew why he had played along; he was intrigued, but the idea of being interested in anyone was just too new, too uncertain, not to let someone more experienced take the lead. But why would a smooth, confident guy like Gavin start all this to begin with? And why did he appear to take a step back every time Derrick rose to the bait?
Maybe he just likes the flirtation for its own sake. Nothing more intended.
Derrick frowned. That seemed the most likely explanation. He had no idea how flirtation and dating worked these days. Not that he’d known all that much last time he’d been involved, either.
Would someone go to the extreme of sabotaging his own appliances just to exchange a bit of banter?
Maybe he’s already involved with someone, and the flirtation’s just a bunch of “look, but don’t touch.”
Hell, for that matter, he couldn’t even be certain Gavin liked men. He had a certain flamboyance about him, which suggested it was possible, but that could just mean he hovered a little closer to the feminine end of the gender spectrum. He could simply be comfortable enough with his sexuality that he didn’t mind flirting with men when he got the chance.
That didn’t track either, though. Not in light of the fact that Gavin would pay real money for bogus repairs. Why did he keep trying to talk himself out of the idea that Gavin might be legitimately interested in him?
His frown deepened as he packed up his tools and walked over to the office, leaning against the door frame as Gavin emptied the last drawer of the desk.
“I’m done in the kitchen, if you want to check the repair, see if you find it satisfactory.” His words sounded stilted in his own ears, a bit too formal.
Why did he suddenly feel like retreating from all this?
“All right.” Gavin stepped away from the desk, making room for Derrick to set down his tool bag and reach down, grasping it to wrestle it to its side. “Do you need any help?”
He shook his head, glancing up. “Nah. Don’t want to risk you getting injured.”
He blew out a breath as Gavin ducked out of the room. He needed time alone, time to figure out just what the hell it was he thought he was doing. He dug in his bag for a wrench and tightened it around the leveling foot of the desk, trying to find the playful exhilaration he’d arrived with. He didn’t realize Gavin had returned from checking out the dishwasher until he over-balanced when the foot snapped off the rusted bolt, sending him falling back onto his ass.
Gavin chuckled behind him. “You’re sure you don’t need help?”
“Just what is it you think you can do?” Derrick asked with a soft laugh as a blush inched up his neck. He bit his tongue when it occurred to him the answer might sound dismissive, rather than teasing.
Luckily, Gavin didn’t seem to be in a mood to take offense. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I can contribute something. If only standing here looking pretty.”
“Well, we all have our talents,” Derrick said under his breath. It was his own moxie this time that caused the tense, nervous fluttering in
his gut. Gavin laughed aloud, delighted, though Derrick couldn’t be sure if it was due to the underhanded compliment, or the fact that he had begun to give back a little of what Gavin was dishing out.
Silence fell. Gavin watched with undisguised interest while Derrick worked to loosen the rusted bolt. Apparently his instant of daring had been just that: an instant. Now he felt like crawling back inside himself, sure he’d said too much.
“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” Gavin asked as Derrick dug his drill and cobalt bits out of the toolkit.
Derrick laughed. “Oh, I dunno, I was just thinking sometimes I talk more than I should. What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. You’ve got a sort of quiet energy, if that doesn’t sound too New Age.”
Just how many times a guy could blush in the course of a half-hour before the blood vessels in his face just gave it up as a wasted effort?
“Well, I guess I don’t say much, unless I’ve got something to say. Makes me not a lot of fun at parties. I’m really not great with small talk.”
Gavin shrugged. “A lot of people feel like they have to fill every silence with noise, no matter how meaningless. I think it’s interesting to find someone who isn’t afraid of a little quiet.”
“Well, speaking of quiet, I’m gonna need to drill this out, which will be anything but. I don’t have ear protection for two, so you might want to step out of the room and close the door until I’m done.”
Gavin hesitated a moment, then nodded and turned, shutting the door behind him. Derrick frowned, irritated with himself for defeating the purpose of creating an excuse to linger. It seemed pointless to try to draw out the flirtation game and then construct a situation that made talking impossible.
Digging out his safety glasses and ear plugs, Derrick reminded himself again why he didn’t lie. Or come up with excuses like these. He wasn’t quick enough on his feet to maintain a charade for long. He needed time to think things through, to plan how he would respond.
So why not just ditch the bullshit and ask him out?
Frowning, he began to drill.
Maybe Gavin didn’t want to go out. Maybe a little casual banter was as much as he wanted. What did Derrick really know about Gavin, anyway? Maybe it was time to try to get to know him, gauge his interest.
The cobalt bit screeched against the rusted metal of the screw. Derrick worked with silent concentration, unable to make himself not do the job with as precisely as he could. Even if it was just a trumped up excuse to spend time with Gavin, he wouldn’t be half-assed about it.
Assuming the other feet might be rusted as well, he’d bought enough parts to replace them all. None of the others required drilling out, and he took off his goggles and earplugs after he determined they could be loosened with the wrench. Focused on his task, he forgot why he was there until he heard Gavin behind him.
“Would you like a beer? Or anything else to drink? I could make coffee, or I have juice or water. I don’t tend to keep soda around and I only have tea when Andi gets me some.”
Startled, he had to catch himself with a hand on the leg of the desk before he fell on his ass again. Gavin was standing in the doorway, holding a foggy brown bottle with the label of the Frankenmuth Brewery. Derrick smiled.
At least he could add has good taste in beer to the list of things he knew about Gavin.
“Sure. Just let me finish this first.” He gestured to the desk. “If I get injured and my contractor’s insurance finds out I’d been drinking on the job, they’d hike my rates sky high, if they didn’t just drop me. So. I’ll just make sure I’m not actually drinking on the job.”
Gavin grinned. “I like the way you think. You didn’t have to go to quite so much trouble.”
“Well, you know.” Derrick shrugged, standing to wrestle the desk upright, then knelt again to adjust the feet, glancing up at the level on the surface of the desk. “Any job worth doing and so on.”
“I wish some of the people I work with thought like that.” Gavin chuckled, sipping his beer.
“What do you do?”
“I’m an auditor.”
“IRS?”
Gavin laughed again. “No. I’m an internal auditor. I’m basically an accountant who double-checks the work of other accountants, mainly to be sure the company doesn’t end up being visited by our friends at the IRS.” He grinned again. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to audit you.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide.” Derrick grinned and shook his head, glancing once more at the level to be sure he was satisfied before returning his tools to his bag in precise order so he could find them easily next time. Then he wiped his hands on his jeans, brushing off metal shavings. “You’re gonna need to vacuum in here. Try not to walk around barefoot until you do. Sorry. If you want, I can do that before I leave, since I made the mess.”
Gavin shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Still want that beer? I’ll testify you were off the clock, if it comes to that.”
“I’d like that,” Derrick said, picking up his duffel and following Gavin out to the kitchen, leaning against the breakfast bar as Gavin opened another bottle of beer and offered it to him.
“So, the remodeling you’re doing in the office, is that the start of something you’ll continue out here?” He gestured around the kitchen and great room with his beer.
A crease appeared between Gavin’s brows as he frowned. “No,” he said definitely. “What made you think that?”
That tense, twisting feeling slithered its way back into his gut, accompanied by a sickening certainty that he’d put his foot in it. “Oh, well. I don’t really know that much about decorating. Just the office doesn’t match the rest of the apartment.”
The great room was done in monochrome, with the exception of one mismatched and—to Derrick’s admittedly inexpert eye—truly hideous painting. Black and white furniture sat on gray carpet before lighter gray walls. The end tables were burnished chrome and glass, and the kitchen appliances and accents were stainless steel. There wasn’t a single piece that reflected the antique-looking stain on the desk, which Derrick had so meticulously matched.
“Oh. That. Yeah, I was just trying something different.” Gavin’s frown eased, and as Derrick watched, he took a drink of his beer and rolled his shoulders once, letting them drop from where they’d begun to creep up defensively. The smile he gave Derrick felt forced. “I doubt I’ll extend the theme to the rest of the apartment.”
“Okay.” Derrick nodded, his tone neutral. He stepped back from that terrified fluttery feeling, behind the impenetrable calm that had become his bulwark these past ten years. He wasn’t sure he wanted to risk tracking around whatever he’d stepped in back there with his observation. He didn’t know what he’d reminded Gavin of to cause that reaction, but he was certain he didn’t want to find out.
Why had he ever thought this game he’d let himself join in on was a good idea?
“You don’t miss much, do you?” he heard Gavin ask, drawing him out of his thoughts before he had the disarray sorted out again.
Derrick shrugged, smiling down at his beer bottle. “I like little details, I guess. That’s the thing about being quiet. Lots of time to observe when people think you’re gathering wool.”
That teasing grin flashed once more. “Now that’s almost scary. That would make it hard to keep any secrets from you, wouldn’t it?”
Like why this is the second time you’ve gotten weird and evasive when the office is mentioned?
He couldn’t ask that. It was too personal.
Instead, he shrugged again, tilting back his beer. “Not sure why anyone would try. Secrets suck, man. Takes too much energy to keep ‘em. I like things simple.”
Gavin’s eyes glinted with amusement. His small grin broadened into a full-on smile. It took Derrick a moment to catch on, and then the irony of his own words in the present situation struck him.
“Yeah, okay, most of the time,” he amended, chuckling as he finished his beer. Anyt
hing to keep from noticing just how insanely gorgeous Gavin’s lips were.
It was time to leave. Now, before things got awkward and he had to slink away. They were both comfortable and smiling. That was the feeling he wanted to take home with him.
“I should go,” he murmured, taking his empty bottle to the sink and rinsing it out. “Thank you for the beer. Same as before, I’ll do some calculations on the billing, send you an invoice this week.”
“All right.” Gavin seemed relaxed and peaceful as Derrick hung the strap of his toolkit over his shoulder. If he was hurt or reluctant for Derrick to go, it didn’t show. He gestured down the hall and Derrick led the way. “Thanks. For all the help.”
“My pleasure.” He shook Gavin’s hand, letting himself enjoy the contact, rather than fleeing from it in alarm or confusion. If this was the last time Gavin called him over, he would leave feeling like it was time well spent, something they had both enjoyed, even if they didn’t come back for more. Whatever else happened, whether he ever worked up the guts to ask Gavin out or not, at least he’d had this feeling of being in motion again. “Call me anytime.”
“I’ll do that.” Gavin released his hand slowly. Derrick hesitated a second before deciding there was nothing else he could say that wouldn’t make things uncomfortable. He gave Gavin a final smile, then he turned and left.
It was a long walk down the corridor before he heard Gavin’s apartment door shut.
AFTER A GREAT DEAL OF CONSIDERATION, he only charged Gavin for the replacement part for the dishwasher. He didn’t want to appear to be padding his bill with phony labor charges. He also wanted to send the message that he hadn’t considered the job “work.” He hand-wrote on the invoice Thanks for your business. I look forward to working with you again.
As subtle hints went, he was pretty sure it sucked.
He spent the weekend making himself accept that Gavin might not call again, and wondering what he would do if Gavin did.
Ask him out.
Right. It had to be getting to that point, didn’t it? They couldn’t carry on with the phony repairs much longer, after all.
Inertia: Impulse, Book One Page 4