"Doesn't matter how you met," Nat says. "I can see that it's real now. It's there in the way he looks at you." Her smile is genuine. "He's a great boss and a great guy, and I'm really happy for him. For you both."
"There was never anything between you?" I ask, the question surprising me because I'm not the jealous type. Then again, I've never been with a guy I cared enough about to rouse those feelings.
"I respect the hell out of him, but no. He's hot, don't get me wrong, but he's not a guy I have sparks with."
"What about Riley?"
"Mmm," she says. "That's a longer conversation for a later time, like three weeks from never."
"Fair enough," I say, laughing. "At any rate, I'm glad you're happy for us." I mean it, and I'm surprised by how much someone's blessing pleases me. "I guess we should go before the coffee gets cold."
"True that," she says and leads the way to Evelyn and Lyle.
"--that I'm going to call him today about a real estate question," Lyle is saying as we approach.
"Will do," Evelyn says, standing. "I'll get out of your hair."
She looks at me, her mouth curving down thoughtfully. "You know, Lyle, you're getting hot and heavy into rehearsals next week. Maybe you should clear your schedule until then. You've got the SCF brunch on Sunday, of course, but other than that, I think maybe you should just chill. Recharge a bit before you dive in."
He glances at me with a smile full of possibility. "I think that sounds like a damn good idea."
25
"What do you think?" Lyle asks, once Evelyn has gone and Nat's disappeared into the back office. "Clear our schedules for the three evenings until the brunch, and--"
"I can't," I say, thinking of Greg and Anderson and the flip house. Then I frown, mentally rewinding. "Wait. Evenings?"
"Didn't you already clear your other schedule so that you could work on the flip?"
"You remembered that?" The realization is like a gentle squeeze around my heart.
"Of course. In fact, why don't I help?"
"Really?"
"Well, I don't know how much help I'll be, but I can clean paint brushes or take a mallet to anything you need knocked down."
I'm literally about to melt on the spot. "You'd really do all that?"
He cups my face, then gently kisses me. "Of course. And did I mention that I'm an expert at ordering pizza?"
* * *
As it turns out, he really is a pizza expert. Usually Greg and I just order from whatever delivery place has left a flyer on the door, but Lyle orders from a place I've never heard of, but should be in the dictionary under Best Pizza Ever.
Of course, by the time it arrives, we've been working for almost four straight hours, and I'm ravenous. So my standards might be slightly skewed.
It's not just pizza that Lyle helps with. As promised, he's down for doing pretty much anything we ask, and since we're in the very first stages of fixing up the house, we're asking him to do a lot of demolition.
"Gotta love Riley and all his training," I say, when Lyle swings a sledge hammer to knock through a wall, and I get a nice glimpse of the muscles rippling in his arms and back.
"So?" I demand of Greg as Lyle is running a load of debris to the rented trash bin that fills the driveway.
"You win," Greg says grudgingly. "He's a nice guy. And there's more going on than a fake engagement, isn't there?"
I frown. "Why do you say that?"
"Oh, come on. One, I know you. And two, he'd have to be the best actor in the world to look at you the way he does and not really mean it."