The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,8
surprised them with a cruise. They’d had the most wonderful time and couldn’t stop telling their friends how their fabulous son-in-law had given them that gift.
During their marriage, Jeffrey had made zero attempts to join Morgan on his visits upstate, using his brutal work schedule as an excuse. With the wisdom of hindsight, Morgan now knew it was because they were small-town people with small-town values. His parents weren’t rich and had no contacts Jeffrey could use, so as far as he could see, they were merely deadweight.
“He’s in the middle of a big case now, and I-I took on extra administrative work this summer and can’t leave. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’ll miss you, but your careers are important.”
“Thanks. I’m really sorry.” Morgan gulped, feeling like shit.
“Don’t apologize. We understand.” His mother’s considerate reassurance only fueled his guilt. “We love you both. Say hello for us, and we’ll talk to you next week.”
He tossed the phone to the couch and huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The sounds of traffic filtered in through the window, and he fanned his face. That morning he’d bought an AC window unit, and with the super’s permission, had it installed, but the energy-saver, low setting wasn’t providing any relief, and he was hot as hell. He decided to turn it up to full blast, which promised to cool off a space this size in less than five minutes. To hell with the electricity bill.
His stomach growled, and he thought of the shopping cart he’d left behind in the supermarket the day before. He’d been so embarrassed at knocking over the cans display, that when Leo the super approached him, he couldn’t do anything but run. Once home, he took a rare sleeping pill and went straight to bed, even though he hated how groggy and disoriented it left him feeling.
God, you’re a jerk. A jerk and a klutz, and now people in this neighborhood know it.
He stripped out of his clothes and headed for the bathroom. The water hiccupped from the hinky showerhead, and Morgan coughed and sputtered. The last thing he wanted was to have to call Leo DeLuca to fix anything. The man already thought he was an idiot. He turned the knobs, and after some groaning of the pipes, he managed to achieve a decent hot spray.
He couldn’t believe he’d made a fool of himself—again—in front of the growly but gorgeous super. In the weeks since he’d moved in, Morgan had caught glimpses of the man, usually lugging something heavy, showcasing those delicious muscles. An assortment of interesting-looking tattoos ran up and down both arms, highlighting the curves and dips of his biceps, and Morgan found himself straining to see what they were but never getting near for long enough to study them. On the one occasion they’d come close, Morgan had his hands filled with bags and failed miserably in his attempt to unlock the front door. One bag slipped, and all his toiletries spilled over the ground. Leo opened the door but didn’t acknowledge him aside from a raised dark brow and a quick, sardonic twist of his lips, which Morgan assumed was an attempt at a smile. He expected nothing more. Why would a guy like Leo notice him?
Morgan had muttered something, ducked his head, and shoved everything inside the reusable tote, hoping like hell Leo hadn’t spotted the box of lube among the shampoo, soap, and laundry detergent. Cheeks burning, Morgan had punched at the elevator button and hustled inside when the doors opened, but by that time, Leo had already walked away without a word.
Even now he winced at the memory. He turned off the spray and stepped out of the tub, dripping water onto the rug. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he left his tiny bathroom and stepped into a pair of boxers.
The apartment had cooled off nicely, and Morgan lifted his face to the rush of air. He shivered, enjoying the chill, and decided it was the perfect time to try out his new essential-oil diffuser. He plugged it in, and the warm scent of lavender filled the air, calming him. Jeffrey had always hated it and refused to let him use it.
My time now.
He flipped on the television for white noise, and when his stomach gurgled, he remembered he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. With yesterday’s grocery shopping cut short by his stupidity, and feeling too lazy to go out in the heat, he resigned himself to boxed mac-and-cheese. He