Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

NICHOLAS

It's Sunday, and out back, the brunch crowd is celebrating the anniversary of a fabled overtime grand slam. The ruckus is building early in the day, and I can tell it's going to be a rowdy one.

I busy myself around the shop, reviewing the list of flowers that I can't get this year from my normal suppliers. I'm weathering the surprise competition, but it takes time to source replacements, and some will likely be of diminished quality.

I hate that. But maybe I'll find some new local suppliers to support as a result of this. That would be great.

Still, though, my plan feels like it's lacking.

A clatter upstairs pulls my attention to Clay.

We've had a couple more dates, every one as satisfying as the last. On my request, Clay even put on his tool belt and nothing else when we jerked each other off last night.

I think of him upstairs as the brunch rages out the back windows, and I chuckle to myself even as I feel sympathetic for him, living about the noise.

Our little world must look ridiculous to Clay. But he hasn't fled yet.

A tingle goes through me when I imagine him as a part of the neighborhood, keeping to himself mostly, but sticking his head out the door when he has the energy. Quickly, I push the pleasing idea away.

This chemical lust keeps occupying my thoughts. Seeing him work so hard and earn Sue's respect has only added to the draw. But I can't let my fantasies drift into romance. That will lead only to disappointment for me, and it wouldn't be fair to Clay, either.

I flip through the weekly local newspaper, reviewing the events in the gayborhood, some of which will lead to business for the shop. I notice that the Historic Architecture Association is having their seasonal luncheon and tour today, and an idea crosses my mind.

After finishing up my last tasks, I walk upstairs and knock on Clay's door.

He answers after shuffling around noisily. He's in his sweatpants and a T-shirt, and he rubs his thumbs across his jaw as he eyes me. "Hey, Nicholas. Come in."

Damn, does he make sweatpants sexy.

"Hi! Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

He jerks his thumb toward the back window. "Just drinking coffee and listening to old softball players argue about the weather."

I smile. "Sounds like Sunday to me. On the chance you're looking for an escape, though, I saw something in the paper you might be interested in." I hand him the paper, tapping the listing.

"Historic homes?"

"The group is very popular, and their luncheon attracts a nice crowd. I know you like old buildings for their inherent interest and value, but it might be a good opportunity for you to network, too."

Clay frowns. "I don't network."

I chuckle. "I'm not surprised to hear that. But home buyers and professionals attend. So if you're looking to sell an old house to a wealthy individual, this is a good place to start."

He looks hesitant, but ultimately hands the paper back to me. "Thanks for the tip. But I'm afraid I'd do more harm than good. I'll leave the networking to the realty professionals."

"If you say so. Although I think you should give yourself more credit than that." I look up to the ceiling, considering. "What if I came with you?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I'm invested in you selling the building to the right person. For everyone's benefit."

When he told me he wouldn't sell to a developer, Clay was clear about his reasons, and they weren't to benefit me. But he's also saving my business, and it makes sense for me to do what I can to help along the way.

"Not to mention," I add, "there's free food and drinks at the tour."

Clay studies me for a moment. "I stand there and eat for free, and you'll do the talking?"

"Unless we get any technical questions about the renovations. Those are squarely for you."

"Let me change," he says with a huff. "I'll meet you downstairs. But I'm not making any promises! If I hate it, I'm leaving."

"Deal!"

I grin as I walk back downstairs, pleased with the idea. It's satisfying to collaborate with Clay, and I'm glad for the chance to spend part of my Sunday with him.

And it's not even breaking our boundaries, because this is clearly not a date. Sure, I knew I'd probably see Clay today, so I wore the gray pants that make my butt look cute, my date pants. But we're on a mission, separate from our secret arrangement.

Clay meets me on the street. He's in jeans and a collared white shirt with short sleeves, dashing and casual.

I swallow. "This way!"

It's Sunday afternoon, and the streets are busy around us as we walk through the gayborhood.

"Let's review before we arrive," I say. "I'll tell everyone how you're doing such a gorgeous job renovating the old building, and how you care about it so much, you're not even considering selling to a developer. Can I share pictures of your work, too?"

Clay arches an eyebrow. "You've been taking pictures?"

"Of course I have. Blossom has never looked better."

Clay nods. "Thanks for doing this," he says after a moment. "When it comes to carpentry, talking to a crew or placing an order at the shop, I handle myself just fine. But social stuff like this, I say the wrong thing. Act too gruff when I don't mean it."

"Gruff or not, your intention is always clear. At least to me it is."

"I guess that's something."

I smile. "My job requires that I'm social, and that works. I'm recharged by other people. But it's easy for me to spend the entire day running around town, talking to every person I see, and not realize how exhausted I am until I crash at home. I should probably learn to take some more downtime."

"You ever want to practice your scowl to keep people away, you know where to find me."

I pretend to scowl at him, and Clay snorts out a laugh.

"You'll have to work on it," he says. "Still too cheerful in the eyes."

Ahead of us, people mingle outside of the old inn, the site of today's tour. I wave to someone I know, and Clay keeps pace beside me.

"Just follow my lead," I tell him. "I'll steer us to the right people."

Blossom's building is old, but the inn is truly historic. Constructed with local stone, the exterior boasts decorative turrets and iron-framed windows, and the interior hosts a grand art collection and period furniture, all meticulously maintained.

"Not bad," Clay says, eyeing the building as we walk in. There's a string quartet playing in the rear, and I see a small guided tour ascending the staircase. "This must have been built what, late 1800s?"

"That's how I understand it," I say, "but Himari here would know for sure." I offer Himari a smile. "Good to see you! How are you doing today?"

She pushes a strand of dark hair out of her face as she approaches. "Nicholas! Good to see you, too. And I'm guessing this is Clay?"

Clay looks slightly disturbed that she recognizes him.

"Clay," I say, "meet Himari. She's on the board of the Historical Homes Association."

"Uh, hi," Clay says. He sticks his hand out abruptly, and Himari smiles as she takes it.

"To answer your question," she says, "the inn dates from 1874. But the original structure was replaced with this current building in 1897." She studies him for a moment. "You're preparing to sell Randy's building, as I hear it."

Clay nods, and when he doesn't offer more, I jump in.

"He's not one to brag, but Clay's a brilliant carpenter. And he's got a true passion for maintaining old buildings. He's fixing up Blossom before he sells it because he's committed to finding a buyer who won't tear the structure down."

"That's always a relief to hear," Himari says. "The rate of development around here is unsustainable. And I say that as an architect who benefits from the work."

"Yeah." Clay shoves a hand in his pocket. "Must cost a fortune to maintain a place like this."

"And it's well worth that fortune," Daniel says, interrupting us. Another local architect, he's a notorious snob, and I sigh internally as he interrupts. "What we're doing here is on a different scale than what you're doing over at Blossom, though." He straightens his tie. "Nicholas. Himari," he says, finally greeting us.

"Daniel," Himari says coolly.

"I've noticed your work walking by," Daniel says, addressing Clay. "But if you're interested in adding your home to the historical register, you're sadly not going to have any luck. On top of the fact that the structure is post-1900, we require everything to be done to an exceedingly high standard, which is different than what you do. Surely you understand."

Clay scowls. "Maybe." He nods to the fireplace behind Daniel. "I wouldn't leave the jamb around the mantelpiece so shoddy, though."

"Okay," I say brightly, jumping in as I try to avert a trainwreck. "Luckily, no one is trying to add the building to the historical register."

"I oversaw the renovation of this room myself," Daniel tells Clay, ignoring me. "I assure you, nothing is shoddy."

"Will you look at that?" Himari says as she glances at her phone. "The day is getting away from me. I'll have to catch up with you all later."

"See you soon!" I say brightly, and Daniel huffs off, also.

Clay grimaces.

"Daniel is a bit prickly," I say, trying to smooth it over.

"Fuck that guy," Clay grumbles. "But I scared off Himari."

"Trust me. You can't scare Himari."

He pushes a hand through his hair. "Whatever. I told you. I'm no good at this. I should go before I insult anyone else."

He's bailing already. I'm not sure if I should encourage him to stay or not, and before I can decide, Clay huffs off.

I follow him outside. "Please don't be hard on yourself," I try. "That mess was entirely on Daniel."

"Should have let it go," Clay grumbles. "I sounded like an insecure meathead." He hesitates in the front garden. "Thanks for trying to help me, though."

"I'm sure when it comes down to it, your craftsmanship will speak for itself."

Himari emerges from the front of the house with her purse. She shoots me a quick smile and heads our way.

"I'm glad I caught you both outside," she says and turns to Clay. "And impressive eye. Those jambs annoy me every time I'm in this building."

"Oh," Clay says. He glances to me, and I smile.

"I told you, Clay is incredibly skilled," I say. "You should come by the shop and see what he's accomplished already."

"I'm about to leave town for some business, but as I think about it, one of the other partners at our firm is retiring and looking to move." She considers Clay. "Although, in this market, you really need to let difficult people like Daniel shoot their mouths off without taking it personally. The field is already too crowded with egos."

"Right," Clay says quickly. "I can do that."

Himari nods. "Text me," she says. "I can put you in touch. I think he'd like to see your place."

Clay looks down at the card, grateful.

I do a little happy dance inside. Himari is exactly the kind of person who could help arrange the right buyer for Clay.

When she takes off, I grin at Clay. "See?"

"Guess she wasn't so offended after all."

"Give yourself some credit. You impressed Himari with your eye."

Clay shoves the card in his back pocket. "Cool."

My impulse is to take this goodwill and head right back inside, but Clay clearly needs a break, and I'm more than happy to end on a win for the day.

"Back to Blossom?" I ask.

He nods. "Sure. If I'm going to show the building, I want to get a head start on this week's work."