"Did you say something?" Given Boyd was an elective mute, it was highly unlikely. But you never knew.
"Eric, it's all right," said Jean, wiping her face with the palms of her hands. "He didn't do anything. I just..."
I set my boxes on the ground, face tight. "You just what?"
"This place," she said.
"Hey now," I said, my voice becoming a little sterner. "It might not be exactly what you had in mind, but my brother Joe built this place and I think he did a terrific--"
"It's just perfect." She looked around the room with a quivering smile. "I love it."
"Oh-kay."
Obviously sensing that the attention was off of him, Boyd made his escape. Fair enough.
"Don't you think it's amazing?" she asked.
"Ah, yeah. Sure." My brother did good work and it was a damn nice apartment. But it wasn't the Sistine Chapel or anything. "Amazing."
"Yes," she gushed, spreading her arms wide open as if she could embrace the apartment. "It already feels like home."
"That's good ... I guess."
"It's great," amended Nell, who entered behind me just in time to offer a constructive correction. She wrapped her arm around Jean's shoulders and gave her a squeeze, while shooting me some sort of weird look. What it meant, I had no fucking clue. What, was I supposed to be a mind reader?
Andre set his load of crap down next to mine. Then he saw Jean's red eyes and his forehead wrinkled. "Something wrong?"
"No, nothing," I said. "She loves the place."
He nodded as if in understanding. Show-off.
"How embarrassing," said Jean. She fished a Kleenex out of her jeans pocket and blew her nose. Cheeks pink, she studied the hardwood floor, not meeting any of our eyes.
"Baby hormones," said Nell. "Best fun ever."
"I cried yesterday because a grocery store was out of chocolate milk."
Nell cocked her head. "That, however, might be taking it a little too far."
"Jean's allowed to feel whatever the hell she wants to feel," I said, a little pissed. Nell should be more careful. The last thing we needed was for Jean to start crying again. I stood tall, body rigid. "And chocolate milk is pretty great. You know, if you're into that sort of thing."
Jean just kind of gave me a blank look. But at least she wasn't crying. Absolute silence followed. Nobody said anything, though Nell was gazing at me all weird again.
Eventually, Andre coughed into his fist.
"I was joking, Eric," said Nell slowly.
"Oh." I swallowed. "How was I supposed to know that?"
Ever so slowly, the edges of Jean's lips crept upward. It was kind of sly, that smile. Secretive. I liked it. Except then she placed her hands on her scarily large belly, rubbing in small circles.
Still pregnant. Right.
What the hell was I doing here? Apart from making an ass of myself. It was all Jean's fault. Something about her messed with my head. I was all strung out, my throat tight and raw. I needed fresh air, pronto. "Anyway, can't stand around yapping all day. These boxes okay here?"
"Yes, thank you," said Jean. "I'll get everything sorted how I like it later."
Good enough. I made for the door, Andre close behind me. My feet moved faster and faster, needing to get away from that woman and her whole knocked-up situation. Coeur d'Alene had plenty of female residents. Not all of them could have heard bad stuff about me. If, on the off chance that I couldn't find a girlfriend in town, well, there was always Spokane.
I quickened my pace, seized by a new sense of direction. I had a plan. One that did not include Jean Antal. In the future, I'd just stay the hell away from the woman. Problem solved.
"Smooth," said Andre as we were jogging down the stairs.
"What?"
Smirking, he just shook his head.
"Fuck off," I grumbled.
The idiot roared with laughter.
Nell came charging down the steps, red ponytail swinging and fury burning bright in her eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Helping to move Jean in."
"I saw the way you were looking at her." Her finger jabbed me in the chest.
Andre turned and kept walking. Coward.
"What are you talking about?"
Nell put her hands on her hips. "That woman has had enough crap in her life. This is a fresh start for her and you are not going to ruin it."
I had nothing.
"Only you would hit up a heavily pregnant woman for a fling," she said, voice heavy with disgust. "Like she doesn't have enough to deal with already."
"I've got no interest in the woman," I lied.
"You better not." Her shoulders lowered a little. "Stay away from her, Eric. Or else."
CHAPTER THREE
"Why the pout?"
I put down the glass I'd been polishing and not very successfully smothered a yawn because it'd been one hell of a busy night. I was beat. "Huh?"
"You've been cleaning that same glass for ten minutes and pouting the entire time," said Alex, watching me over the top of her laptop. "I want to know why."
"Men don't pout."
She blinked. "Sure they do."
I frowned, turning to my brother, who'd just finished serving someone at the other end of the bar. We didn't look much alike, Joe and me. I was more GQ, he was more lumberjack. I might have been lean, but he just looked plain mean with the beard and bulging muscles. Happily, he was more of a teddy bear than an actual grizzly.
"Set your woman straight," I said. "She just accused me of pouting."
Joe strolled closer. "Men don't pout. It just isn't done."
"Oh really?" The pretty little brunette narrowed her eyes. She wasn't my type, but she and my brother were happy together. Despite a rocky start, which I maybe unfortunately had something to do with. Long story, but completely not my fault. Alex cleared her throat, sitting up straight on the stool. "And yet, your brother's been pouting since I got here an hour ago. Please explain."
"You're wrong." Joe shrugged.
"How so?"
My brother crossed his big arms over his chest and gave a mighty sigh. "It's like this, Little Miss. Men don't pout ... we brood."
"That's right," I said.
"To even suggest that we would pout is an affront to our masculinity."
"Yeah." I nodded. "What he said."
"Everyone knows brooding is very manly. Lots of testosterone involved."
"Especially when I do it," I added. "The word you were looking for was probably 'smoldering.'"
Arcade Fire played over the sound system while Rosie and Taka finished clearing the tables. Lydia was busy at the front desk; Boyd and the kitchen kid tidied up out back. Nell had gone home around nine once things started to slow. A party of eight and some couples were the only customers left this close to midnight.
"You're both full of shit." Alex bit back a smile. "You know that, right?"
"Now then, no need to get all cranky just because you were wrong," I said. "I accept your apology. You obviously didn't know better."
"Apology." She snorted. "Yeah right. So why were you doing this manly brooding--sorry, smoldering, Eric?"
My turn to sigh. "No reason," I said, and turned the conversation toward Joe. "Hey bro, something I wanted to ask you. That new tenant, Jean, is basically right above us. Now I know you said you soundproofed it all, but the thing is that she's pregnant, and I was wondering if we should be easing up on the music volume, at least when it gets late on weeknights."
Joe shook his head. "I guarantee you she cannot hear a thing, except what's drifting through the window."
"Just because she's pregnant doesn't mean she needs to be wrapped in cotton wool, you know," Alex chimed in.
"I know that." I scowled at her.
"See, pouting!" she said, pointing her finger at me in glee.
"Gee, babe, you're right," agreed Joe, the jerk, his voice thick with mock concern. "That actually does look like pouting."