I Want It That Way - Aguirre Ann - Страница 21

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“Do you get calls on the weekends a lot? What about Sam?”

“It’s usually some bullshit about paperwork, permits, did I file this or that, what did the inspector say again, that kind of thing. I don’t take extra shifts, so Sam’s fine.”

He sounded so disgruntled that I had to ask, “Is there any part of the job you do like?”

“The benefits are good. And it’s not bad to learn this side of building, considering that I want to work in design later on. And yeah, I know that architecture’s a pretty depressed field right now, but it’s supposed to rebound in five years or so. At the rate I’m going it’ll take me that long to complete my undergrad work, let alone a master’s.”

“You don’t need to justify your dreams to me, Ty.”

“If that’s true, you’d be the first,” he muttered. “Anyway, sorry for letting work put me in a bad mood. Monday is soon enough to deal with whatever that was.”

“You already warned me that you’re a grumpy asshole,” I pointed out.

“True.” But he was utterly charming for the remainder of the drive.

He told me the history behind the whiskey bar we were going to. Apparently, it really was a speakeasy back in the twenties, and it was situated below another bar. I’d never been anywhere like that, so I was excited on that note alone, but going with Ty, that was the frosting on the cake. Downtown Ann Arbor was hopping, so we parked a few blocks away. He came around to open my door, and when I climbed out, I realized we were exactly at eye level.

“You’re 6’1,” I said.

He grinned. “Tonight, so are you.”

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind anything about you, Nadia.”

Briefly, I entertained the idea of pushing him against the car, but I wrapped a choke chain around the impulse.

“Which way?” I murmured.

Ty set a hand in the small of my back to guide me, below the red jacket, so there was only the thin chiffon between his palm and my skin. He kept close as we walked, his hand on me like a claim. By the time we got to the venue, his palm felt like a searing brand. Though it had been a while, Ty had obviously been here before. He led me to the side steps and down into the cellar.

Inside, the ceilings were low and resembled chalkboards. Buckets of chalk sitting around indicated we were supposed to scrawl our own messages if we felt like it. The place was half-full, casual seating throughout. A few people were milling around; others had claimed conversation pits while still more preferred regular tables and chairs. The small stage gave the space a sense of intimacy; if the acoustics were good, this should be awesome.

Ty homed in on a pair of chairs toward the corner of the room, fairly close to the entertainment. With a glance, he confirmed it was fine with me, and I followed him over. Once I was seated, he said, “Get you a drink?”

“Sure. See what interesting beers they have. Something local, if possible.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I really wished he wouldn’t say things like that. If this was how Ty treated a friend, then I’d eat Lauren’s damned dress. Hungrily, I watched him walk away, admiring the fit of his jeans. Since he was wearing a blue-striped button-up and a navy corduroy jacket, I didn’t think that was how he’d dress to hang out with a pal, either. Talk about mixed messages. But maybe he didn’t realize how it was coming across, how much this seemed like a date.

“All set?” I asked, as he sat down next to me.

“I ordered the five-beer sampler. They brew all their beers on-site, apparently. And I got us a basket of thyme and cheddar biscuits.”

“That sounds incredible.” Until he said that, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

“They’re my favorite thing here, though the pulled pork nachos are awesome, too.”

I glanced down at my lap and grinned. “Thank you for thinking of my dignity.”

“In that dress, I promise your dignity is not remotely on my mind.”

Okay, enough. “Ty, you have to stop flirting with me. I can’t take it.”

“Sorry. It’s just that when I look at you, I forget about being smart and reasonable and I just—” For once he seemed to be at a loss for words.

“I get it,” I said softly. “You have the same pull for me. But you’re the one who said you don’t date.”

“I’m sorry. We probably shouldn’t even be here.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

“Because no matter how I try, I can’t think of you as my buddy Nadia, Sam’s teacher Nadia, my cool neighbor Nadia. You’re just Nadia, who I desperately want to see naked.”

“You’re not the only one struggling with that,” I murmured.

“Why?” He paused for a single, mischievous beat. “You see yourself naked all the time.”

I laughed, teasing him. “And it’s amazing. Sometimes I don’t leave the house for days.”

The band came on then, forestalling whatever he might’ve said, but the glint in his eyes promised delightful retribution. The fact that we could joke around gave me hope for salvaging our friendship. If sex would ruin things, we could work around it. Right?

Five minutes later, the server brought beer and biscuits, so we had grub when the music started. Both were delicious; I sampled all five of the brews, though I didn’t finish any. Ty devoured the rest. Broken Arrow’s set lasted for two hours, give or take, and had more of a bluesy tone than I expected, given Ty’s other musical inclinations, but the group was talented, full of energy and fun to watch. They engaged the audience, got us clapping and singing along. Since I didn’t know the words, I mostly hummed. Then they played a fifteen-minute encore, at which point, Ty glanced toward the door.

“Should we head out?”

Just before eleven, the place was pretty packed. It was getting harder to hear him for people talking, and since we’d come to see the show—and now we had—the night was done. Disappointment flicked through me, yet I pushed to my feet.

“Sure. We have the drive back—”

“Are you in a hurry to get home?” he asked, visibly downcast.

“No, I thought you were.”

“Then as long as we’re in Ann Arbor, we can’t go without dinner at the Fleetwood. They have the best meaty hash.”

“I only understood half of those words.”

“Can you walk in those shoes? From here, it’s, like, three blocks, maybe five minutes at the most. It would probably take longer to move the car.”

“Sure, I’m fine.” As soon as I said that, turning to follow him, I stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.

Ty grabbed my hand to steady me and he didn’t let go. As our fingers laced together, I half closed my eyes, savoring the rasp of his calluses and the heat of his skin. Crazy that palm-on-palm contact could make me feel like this. Maybe it was because we’d agreed it would never happen, but the little things had never gotten to me so much before.

“This way, come on.”

As promised, it wasn’t far at all. The Fleetwood Diner was the consummate dive, housed in an Airstream trailer. Inside there were so few tables that it seemed like more than fifteen people couldn’t fit, and it was chilly enough that sitting outside was out of the question. Luckily, a table for two was open and Ty grabbed it.

The servers were weird, rude almost, but Ty claimed that was part of the charm. Since I wanted to talk to him anyway and not the waitress, I was cool with that. On his advice, I got the meaty hash, and it was insanely good. While we ate, he talked a little more about his job, and from there, he moved on to his family.

I took the opening to ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Two sisters, both older. But they don’t live in Michigan. Sarah’s in California and Valerie went to Florida.”

“Whoa. They both went a long way chasing the sun.”

“You’ll laugh but I swear that was exactly why they moved. No more Michigan winters. My mom and dad have talked about joining Val in a few years.” He hesitated, scraping the food around on his plate with his fork. “I kinda suspect they’re only still here because of me.”

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