9. Felix

CHAPTER NINE

felix

Okay, so I almost tried to kiss Henry a week ago, and honestly, I thought that would be it. That he’d withdraw and kick my ass out of his place, but he didn’t. If anything, I think he’s been trying to reassure me we’re still best friends.

Which is kind of crazy, despite me constantly saying we were best friends from the beginning. He always tried to keep his distance.

Now, three weeks later, he’s opening up to me. He’s trying. We haven’t talked any more about Hazel’s mom, but he’s told me a little bit about being in foster care and his parents being addicts, so he was really careful not to ever try more than a little alcohol, here and there.

He never wanted to be like them.

I think he has a distorted vision of himself, like maybe he’s got some of their characteristics, whether he wants to or not. But I see more than his background, and I know how much he loves his daughter.

He could never be like that.

I watch him input information for a new member at the computer as Hazel sits on his lap and is very helpful pushing keys. The older woman is patient and all too happy to be distracted by the adorable baby, though, so I don’t step in.

Instead, I help the cute redhead—who’s been trying to get my attention for a couple of weeks—decide on the best protein shake to help bulk up a little more. He knows what protein shake he likes. He has a full health plan set up and has for months.

I know he’s interested in me. I also know I need to stop pining after the gorgeous single father I’ve been mildly obsessed with since he first walked into the gym, but I’m having a little trouble here.

No doubt, the hot ginger, who’s biting on his bottom lip and occasionally reaching out to touch me, will be a good time. But I don’t know. I bet he doesn’t even have an adorable, chubby little baby with the cutest giggle ever. Probably no severe trust issues either.

Ugh. Boring.

“So, what time do you get off work?”

Yup, here we go. For whatever reason, I look over at Henry, assuming he’s still working, but then his eyes meet mine, and an electric spark zings through my body, just from that small bit of eye contact.

Fuck.

“Uh, not until late,” I say, hoping to placate the guy. He’s nice, but I’m distracted.

“I don’t mind.” He touches my arm, and damn it. No spark. Nothing.

“Right,” I say, hoping to let him off easy. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I have laundry duty.”

I quickly make my exit—knowing if I stay any longer, he’ll make me say it outright—and head into the laundry room. I’m joined a few minutes later by Hazel and Henry. The baby reaching out for me, and Henry, with his eyes on me, but no words.

I can’t tell what he’s thinking as I start the wash and then take my girl into my arms, holding her up to stare at her cute little face. “Were you helping Daddy check in that new member? I think you should get a commission check for all the new business you bring in,” I baby-talk to her, and she giggles, grabbing at my face.

“Yeah, I’m sure Ben will get right on that.”

“Oh, he will if I ask,” I say with a grin as I hug Hazel to my body, but Henry doesn’t laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” But his face says he’s not. He moves over to fold towels from the dryer before asking, “Who was that guy?”

For a moment, I wonder if that’s jealousy I hear, but then quickly push that away as I make goofy faces at Hazel, loving when she laughs. “Just a member. He’s obsessed with making his veins bulge in his arms.”

“Guys worry about that?” He turns to me with a questioning look on his handsome face.

I shrug. “Definition. Sure.” Even though, I actually prefer the long, tattooed sinewy arms I’m looking at right now. But I don’t say that, and I try not to look at Henry’s arms and focus on Hazel.

“He seems more interested in you than an exercise plan.”

He’s not jealous.

You are crazy.

I try my best to talk myself down in my head because damn, he really sounds jealous. “Maybe.”

“Is he your type?” He turns away from me, folding the towels, and I can’t get a read on him. That’s the thing with Henry, it’s hard to know what he’s thinking most of the time.

“I don’t know. He’s good-looking,” I say.

He grumbles something I don’t catch and finishes the laundry while I get in some Hazel time.

I don’t know what’s going on with him, and I forbid myself to think he might be jealous.

He’s straight. And we’re friends.

I need to keep that in mind for my own sanity.