“Jimothy!” Rick leaped over the coffee table, crashed into Fred, and nearly knocked him off his feet as he bent down and scooped Jimothy out of midair and crushed him against his chest. “Holy crap, are you okay?”
Jimothy looked up at Rick and blinked. His lips curved slightly. “I’m fine, thanks to you, my Galahad.”
“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry.” The female voice screeched through the room, and as the door swung open, Rick finally looked up.
Holy shit, it’s Melanie.
More rapidly than he wanted to, he dropped Jimothy’s feet to the floor and stepped back.
Mel jumped into the breach and grasped Jimothy’s shoulders. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Jimothy splayed his arms in that Jimothy way. “Of course, darling, if you just tell me you didn’t take out a contract on my life.”
She laughed melodiously. “Aren’t you adorable?” With that, she let go of Jimothy and looked over his shoulder at Rick. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again on a shriek. “Oh my God, look at you! Who knew what lived under all that hair? You’re gorgeous!” She grinned, sauntered toward him with her round hips swinging, and stood on her tiptoes. Then she placed her hands on either side of Rick’s face so that he had to hold still or make an issue of pulling away, kissed him thoroughly, and then pulled back and smiled. “Hello, darling.”
“Hi, Mel. What are you doing here?” It wasn’t quite as polite as he should have been, but what the hell? “We’re working on my place.” His glance flicked to Jimothy who stood there looking—what? Neutral. No smile. No shock. But the expression still made Rick shiver.
Mel turned in a circle. “Wow. Working on your place is an understatement. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d bring you a coffee, but I didn’t expect to see a transformation only one click short of miraculous.” She laughed and said, “Now, I know you”—she pointed at Fred and then Jose—“and you, and, of course, you.” Her last point was at Rick. “So, I have to assume that this magic is all because of you.” She pointed at Jimothy. Glancing back at Rick, she said, “So what, darling? You had to go out and get yourself a ringer? Because I could never get you to buy a new napkin.”
“I wanted it to look nice for the wedding.” Rick could feel the crease between his eyebrows.
“Last I heard, it was being held at the Four Seasons.”
His frown deepened. Mel wasn’t usually nasty. Even when he refused to go to her big New Year’s party, she’d been disappointed but not obnoxious. “In case Alice wanted to bring Hank over. I—”
Jimothy stepped forward. “Good to meet you.” He smiled at Melanie. “Although I guess we didn’t really meet, did we?” He turned. “Fred, Jose, you deserve medals. You’ve done an amazing job.” He nodded at Rick but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Rick, you’ve got great friends. Don’t forget to pick up your clothes tomorrow. Enjoy your place.” And just like that, he was gone, out the door into the late afternoon.
Rick wanted to scream, run after him, beg him to stay, but Fred picked up one of the beer bottles and handed it to Rick, gave one to Jose, and kept one for himself. Then, as if it had all been planned, he grabbed the full glass of wine and handed it to Melanie. Fred raised his beer. “Here’s to your new place, Rick. And your new freaking hair. I never knew you had that much change in you.”
Melanie looked around. “My goodness. How much did you have to pay that stylist to do all this for you? I’m sure it wasn’t enough.” She smiled and sipped her wine.
Chapter Twelve
Jimothy swiped angrily at his wet cheek as he pulled into the parking lot of the salon. “He that lieth down with dogs shall rise up with fleas.” He sniffed and looked in the rearview mirror to apply a little lip gloss. “It serves you right.” He sniffed again.
Fuck. He didn’t really think Rick was a dog, or Jose or Fred either. The sad thing was, he’d had a wonderful day. He’d gone in prepared to be treated like a flaming fageyleh by Rick’s friends, but they’d been so great. They’d accepted him just the way he was and seemed to even admire him. They’d all laughed and worked so hard. He’d felt like one of the guys, a real rarity in his life.
And it wasn’t that the woman had done anything to hurt him—if you didn’t count nearly tossing him to the ground from a great height. Hell, he’d thank her for that since he wound up in Rick’s arms. Sigh. The feeling of warmth and strength from that moment washed over him. But then she’d acted as if Jimothy was an employee, which made total sense. Why would she ever assume something else?
But Rick didn’t do anything to change her mind.
Okay, Rick might not have much experience explaining how a guy like him could have a guy like Jimothy for a friend. But more likely that meant that Jimothy wasn’t actually Rick’s friend at all.
What do I really want from him? Friendship? Sex? More?
For a second, he let himself dream, then snorted.
What the fuck difference did it make what Jimothy wanted from Rick? It was pretty damned obvious that he wasn’t going to get it.
With a vicious kick from his sneakered foot, he opened the car door and stomped his way to the salon entrance, threw it open, and spread his arms. “Hello, darlings. I’m so sorry to have been gone. How can I make it up to you?”
Felicia was leaning over Arya at the front desk, checking something on the computer. Her face lit up, and she flew around the desk and wrapped Jimothy in her strong arms. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
“Of course, darling. I just helped, uh, a friend do some home renovation, and it took longer than I thought.” He clapped his hands together. “But I’m all done, and I’m all yours. What did I miss?” He walked toward his office with Felicia beside him.
“Mrs. Carpenter cancelled. She had to babysit her grandchildren. Zeke finally got accepted for that color course in Santa Barbara, so we’ll have to cover for his customers next weekend, and your dad called.” She gave him raised red eyebrows. “He said he’d tried your cell twice, and you didn’t answer.”
“Oh damn. I took my cell out of my pocket while I was painting walls and then I forgot to check it before I got in the car.” That was a total lie. He’d looked for messages from Rick. Twice. Nada. When he saw the call from Timothy, he didn’t think he could hide being upset from his father, so he’d put off calling back. “I’ll call him now.” He took his cell from his pocket, and Felicia walked out of his small office to give him privacy.
The call only rang once, and Timothy answered. “Jimothy? Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Dad. Sorry. I was helping a friend with some home renovations and didn’t hear the phone.”
“Renovations?”
“Yes. He was fixing up his place in preparation for a family wedding. He asked for my advice.”
Timothy chuckled. “Of course, he did. He could never have afforded to hire you.”
“That’s what I told him.” Jimothy snorted and ignored the pain in his chest. “What’s up?”