“Why me?”
“I figured you’d never tell anyone the truth.” He shrugs, and if Drew Leighton could do sheepish, I’d say he was trying, but it’s a little out of his depth. “Sorry. It didn’t start out that way. If it makes you feel better, I really did plan to pull the same shit with you as always. If you would have gone for it, we’d have hooked up the first possible opportunity and we would not be here right now. But you just seemed to take it all as a joke and it was a relief. I was relieved to not have to follow through on it and the more I chased you, the less you took me seriously. So the real question is why did you put up with it?”
“Same reason as you. People smell your piss all over me, they assume I’m off the table. Other than Ethan the Arrogant, I get left alone. Win-win.” I don’t really care what people say about me. I’m fine with lies and rumors. It’s the truth I don’t want being told.
“Where does Josh fit into this?” he asks, finally meeting my eyes.
“We’re not talking about Josh.”
“Aren’t we?” he probes.
“Josh is screwing someone else.” Add that to the fact that he doesn’t want to have to give a crap about anyone ever again and he’s kind of an impossible dream.
“So? Josh Bennett has a f**k buddy.” He shrugs like he’s just told me that Josh wears pants. It’s the same tone he used when he dropped it on me the first time and it sucks just the same to hear it. “How do you think he’s managed to keep his hands off of you this whole time? Doesn’t mean anything.” The look I give him says otherwise. “Don’t get all judgmental. He’s a good guy, not a saint.”
“What is she to him?” I try not to sound jealous or like I’m fishing for information, but I am on both counts.
“She,” he says, looking at my chest, because he is still Drew, before pulling his gaze up to my eyes, “is a poor man’s Sunshine.”
I have a seriously hard time believing that, because Josh never comes anywhere near me.
“He doesn’t even look at me sideways much less try to touch me.”
“You’re right. He doesn’t look at you sideways. He looks right at you and doesn’t even try to hide it. The only thing I’ve ever seen him drool over as much has four legs and is made of mahogany but I don’t think he’s planning to ask it out any time soon.”
“Don’t let him do that, Drew. Not with me. He’ll listen to you.”
“No. He won’t,” he pauses to look up at me from the floor. “I think that beam’s been cut, Nastya.”
“Beam’s been cut?”
“Yeah, like that time has passed, that ship has sailed, that cherry’s been popped. I was just trying to put it in building terms but my frame of reference is limited. Didn’t work, huh?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t worry. Josh likes to keep his life free of unnecessary complications. I think you’re safe for a while.” He reaches up and tousles his hair purposefully.
“How long do we have to stay in here?” I’m done with the Josh conversation. Some things are better left alone and this is the definition of one of those things. I look at the tangled sheets on the bed and decide against it. I slide down the wall onto the floor next to Drew and cross my ankles. He pulls my head onto his shoulder, letting me lean against him.
“At least another twenty minutes. I have a reputation to uphold.”
CHAPTER 29
Josh
“Shit!” The saw blade slices through my hand and in seconds I’ve got blood soaking my pants where I’m pressing down on it with the palm of my other hand. I’m not good with blood. In fact, I am absolutely horrible when it comes to blood, so this situation pretty much sucks for me.
I sink down to the ground and lean against the cabinets. I need to stop the bleeding, but sitting is taking priority because I think I might pass out.
“What the hell, Josh?” Nastya is picking up my hand and I want to tell her to stop because there’s so much blood, but I just end up cursing again.
“Here.” She’s got pressure on the cut now and I’m trying to reach up with my right arm to grab the towel that’s on the counter. She shoves it away.
“That’s covered with grease and sawdust. Crap!” she says as my blood starts running down her arm while her hand stays clamped over the gash. “Hold this!” She grabs my right hand back and presses it over the blood-gushing split across my left palm.
I make the mistake of looking before she presses my hand down over it again, and I get seriously lightheaded. Blood is my kryptonite. Massive amounts of puke I can handle, but I can’t do blood. Especially my own.
“A lot of blood,” I breathe out.
“No, it’s not,” she says, pressing her hand down on top of mine.
“Yes, it is,” I manage, because I’m right on this one. If I’m sitting on the floor like a pu**y because of some blood, then I’m going to insist that it’s an awful lot of blood.
“No,” she says emphatically, and there’s no room left for discussion when she looks right in my eyes, forcing me to focus on her. “It’s really not.”
She keeps glancing around for something to stop the bleeding.
“Can you get up?” she asks.
Fuck. I’m gonna pass out in front of her if she makes me stand right now. Before I can fully absorb the humiliation of that thought, she diverts my attention. By taking off her shirt. She has it off in one motion and is wrapping it around my hand before I can ask her what the hell she’s doing. It’s almost more impressive than the bra maneuver.
“Shouldn’t I be the one taking off my shirt?” I ask to lighten the moment. At least for me. She doesn’t seem at all affected.
“If I thought you could get it off before you lost another pint of blood, believe me, I would have gone that route.” She pulls the shirt tight around my hand and holds it down. “Besides, I have to focus, and looking at you shirtless might cause me to hyperventilate. Then we’d both be passed out.” Sarcastic smartass.
“I haven’t passed out.” Yet.
“Yet,” she smiles, lifting my hand and checking out her work. “Now at least you won’t bleed all over the carpet. Inside,” she commands, but I’m too busy staring at her chest in a pink lace bra. I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by the fact that I’m staring at her tits or by the fact that it’s pink, not black, but at least it’s got my mind off of the blood. And then, before I can even move to stand, my traitorous dick jerks. I’m bleeding out in the middle of my garage. Ten seconds ago, my worst fear was that I would pass out in front of her. That’s not my worst fear anymore. It does it again and I’m in the midst of an undeniable hard-on. Now I try to think about the blood, but she’s right in front of me, offering to help me up and it’s far too late for that. She glances down. Of course she glances down.