Page 10 of Extra Grumpy
“I’ll let you know when I have another update, dear,” Jerry says.
When I step back into the bedroom, Rock is awake, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s adjusted the sheets so they aren’t pulled so tight across his lower half anymore. I can’t shake the mental image of what I saw, though. To be on the safe side, I sit on the bed on top of the sheets.
“My landlord says it’s going to be a couple weeks at minimum,” I say.
Rock nods. “Not surprised to hear that.”
“I really should find somewhere else to stay. That’s too long to put you out.”
“You’re not putting me out.”
“You say that now, but you’ll feel differently the longer I stay.”
“Well, let’s just take it a day at a time, then.” Rock runs a hand through his messy hair. It’s weirdly intimate, seeing him first thing in the morning like this. My chest feels a little fizzy. I can’t tell if it’s discomfort or something else.
“You sleep okay?” Rock asks.
The lovely, dreamy sensations from this morning come back into my mind, making my lower stomach squeeze. “Yep. Fine.”
“Good. I was worried you were having nightmares or something. You kept talking in your sleep.”
I scoff. “Liar.”
“You don’t believe me? I’ll record you next time.”
“Don’t you dare.” I glare at him. The corner of his mouth lifts—that’s about as full-blown of a smile as you’ll ever get out of Rock—and then he gets out from the sheets, rolls his shoulders, and stands up.
My eyes catch the way his butt looks in the gray sleep pants he’s got on. In that thin material, the muscular strength of his legs is impossible to ignore.
What am Idoing?
I avert my eyes. Push my mind toward things it should be focused on. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot about what we should do to up our game before that other bar opens. What do you think about hosting some trivia nights?”
Rock shoots me a look like I’ve just suggested we put our bar up for sale. “No.”
“Oh, come on. What’s so bad about them?”
“They’re loud. Obnoxious. We didn’t open a bar to host trivia nights.”
“But what’s the harm in trying? I’ll organize the entire thing. You won’t have to do anything.”
“It’s not about that.”
I sigh. Rock is so frustrating sometimes. “At least let me put together a plan for one, okay? I promise you can veto it if you absolutely hate it.”
Rock grumbles something that sounds likefine, do it if you wantas he walks into the bathroom. As he starts to brush his teeth, I follow in his footsteps and lean against the doorway.
“I was also thinking we could get a new sign,” I say. “Something fun and bright that we could put on the inside of the bar to draw people in.”
Rock can’t respond with the sudsy toothpaste in his mouth but he gives me a look in the mirror that demonstrates how vehemently he disagrees.
I step away to grab my phone and pull up the images I was looking at last night. “I was thinking we could get something like this. What do you think? Cute, right?”
Rock takes one glance at my screen, spits toothpaste into the sink, and shakes his head. “No.”
Argh. He isimpossiblesometimes. “Why?”
“It’s neon. Way too fucking bright.”
