Chapter 7
Oddly, though, Jason’s challenge seemed to bleed out Andy’s nerves. He rocked forward on his toes, meeting it head-on. “What’s the house special?”
Scooter nodded. “Give us both a cheesy all the way and a bowl, same, okay? We’ll break you in the hard way.”
Andy cocked his head, studied Jason and then Scooter. He grinned. “I’m pretty hard to break,” he said.
Kat came up behind them. “You collecting stray puppies again, boss?” The Ukrainian dropped from her mouth in liquid syllables. She’d attempted to teach all of them after she’d started working there, but Scooter was the only one who’d taken to it. “He looks like he’s running.”
“Running from what, that’s the question,” Scooter answered her.
Jason sighed. Languages weren’t his skill and he’d never learned more than a handful of words in Ukrainian, even though he and Kat had been dating for some four years now. “Two cheesies all the way, comin’ up.”
Scooter turned to Andy. “Apartment’s out back,” he said. “This way.” He led Andy through the kitchen—paused briefly to introduce D’ante, just finishing up the stack left from the lunch rush—out the back door, and up the exterior stairs. Scooter lived on the second story of Dockside, which had four bedrooms and a living room/kitchen combo. When Scooter had been a teenager, Dad had installed a separate studio apartment over the garage; it and the house were both accessed from the second-floor balcony. Another set of stairs led from the balcony to the widow’s walk that ringed the studio apartment’s roof. Kat liked to sit up there and watch the ocean on her breaks.
The apartment wasn’t big. It had a bed in the far corner (complete with Jeff’s horrible melon orange sheets and comforter); a burner, a microwave, and a mini fridge for a kitchen; and a couch and a portable television near the door. The bathroom, barely big enough to turn around in, contained a stall shower, toilet, and tiny sink. Trick, who had been sleeping on the sofa, lifted his head and thumped his tail a few times as Scooter opened the door.
Jeff had left the place a wreck, and Scooter had mostly shoved his stuff out of the way and bagged it up. “I’ll get Jeff’s crap into storage if you decide to stay,” Scooter offered. “The sheets are clean, I changed ‘em out this morning. Jeff left his sheets and towels and stuff, you’re welcome to use ‘em. Basic cable and WiFi, all utilities are provided. The washer and dryer are downstairs in the garage—I’ll show you later. And there’s a six-pack of Michelob in the fridge. It’s Jeff’s, but I think you can have it, if you want.”
Andy explored the apartment cautiously. His expression was guarded, and it couldn’t be more obvious that he was used to something bigger and nicer, but he didn’t say it. He stepped over to the sofa and held out a hand for Trick to sniff and then lick. He smiled a little at that and petted Trick’s head. “Never had a dog,” he admitted, not looking at Scooter. “Will he let me know when he needs to go out?”
At the word “out,” Trick got up, fetched a brilliant orange leash from the door-side table, and brought it back to Andy, wagging hopefully. “He’s pretty well trained,” Scooter said, grinning. “Jeff…Jeff was in the circus before he came to work here. Worked the animal show. Trick got hurt in a stage accident and Jeff brought him with to keep the head trainer from putting him down.”
Andy was grinning at the dog, a bright, uncomplicated amusement that made his whole face light up. “Well, good for Jeff, I guess,” he said. He took the leash and tugged at Trick’s equally lurid orange collar until he found the ring to clip it to. “Guess we’re going for a walk, huh?”
God, this was a mistake. Scooter smiled, but damn, Andy was really fucking gorgeous, and there was something childlike about that grin that just went right through Scooter’s chest. He’d stated his rules, and they were written in stone. Had been for years. This was not the time to start having second thoughts. Fuck, lock it down, Stahl. Kat was right, he did pick up stray puppies.
She was also right that Andy had the air of someone who was in trouble. Running. But weren’t all his friends? Jason had been running from the pain of his mother’s death and all it meant, Kat from her war-torn country, Jeff from the circus, D’ante from the war. Everyone ran, and they all came to Scooter in the end. He didn’t need another one. But he’d never been able to turn anyone in need away, and Andy’s body language screamed need
Trick all but dragged Andy to the door, because he was well-trained but knew a sucker when he saw one. Andy laughed the whole way, obviously delighted.