My Cone and Only (King Family #1) - Susannah Nix Page 0,28

right,” he said, cutting me off with a grimace. “I don’t need to hear the details of your sexual exploits.”

“Let’s just say we were both extremely satisfied customers and leave it at that.”

He gave me an appraising look. “How satisfied was she after she never heard from you again?”

“Who says she wanted to?” I fired back defensively.

One of his eyebrows arched. “Did you even ask? Or did you hightail it out of there as soon as you’d finished enjoying her bidet?”

Josh took a dim view of my promiscuous habits. He’d expressed his opinion—that it was unhealthy for me and hurtful to the women I slept with—plenty of times before. As hard as I’d argued that there was nothing wrong with consenting adults having a good time, I knew deep down he was right. No matter how up front I tried to be about my lack of interest in commitment, I’d still hurt more than my share of feelings by not sticking around.

But Josh seemed to think I had a choice in the matter. As if I could just flip a switch inside my heart and decide to fall in love—or at least deep enough in like that I was interested in more than just sex. Apparently I was defective, because I didn’t have that switch. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried. I’d learned through trial and error that relationships weren’t for me. Trying to force the issue only resulted in more misery for everyone involved.

It wasn’t a subject we were ever going to see eye to eye on, so I ignored his comment as I stooped to gather up my tools.

“You want a beer?” he asked gruffly, joining in to help. Josh wasn’t what you’d call effusive, so I recognized it as his way of offering a mea culpa for the unwanted criticism of my life choices.

“Better not,” I said, remembering I had band practice tonight. “But I wouldn’t say no to some iced tea if you’ve got any.”

I followed him downstairs and set my toolbox by the door while he poured two glasses of iced tea. We drank them at the round oak table in the kitchen of his parents’ old house where I’d whiled away hours of my youth with Josh and sometimes Andie. The place hadn’t changed much since those days. Same placemats on the same table, same cross-stitch staring at me from the wall—The secret ingredient is always LOVE!—same floral shades his mother had made hanging in the bay window. A faint smell of baking bread lingered in the air like an echo of the days when his mom would always have some fresh-baked treat waiting for us, but was probably just the scent of whatever Josh and Mia had made for breakfast this morning.

“Does it ever feel weird?” I asked him. “Living in your parents’ house?” I’d never want to live in my dad’s house, even if he decamped to Maine like the Lockharts had.

“Not really. It’s never bothered me, but…” Josh paused and gazed around the kitchen. “I don’t want Mia feeling like she’s living in someone else’s house. I’ve been thinking we should make some changes to the place so it’ll feel more like it’s hers.”

“That’s why you bought her the bidet,” I said, understanding.

“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth tilted. “Although I hear there are other benefits to it I might enjoy.”

“All right,” I said, grinning at him. “I don’t need to hear the details of your sexual exploits.” We both laughed, and I said, “It’s a good gift. She’s gonna love it. Hell, I might get myself one if I buy my own place.”

“Why don’t you?” Josh asked, reaching for his iced tea.

“Get a bidet?”

“Buy your own place.” He eyed me as he set his glass back down. “Haven’t you outgrown that shitty duplex you’ve been renting?”

“It’s not so bad,” I said with a shrug. “The rent’s cheap.”

“It’s a college student apartment. You’re thirty now,” he reminded me unnecessarily. “We both are.”

A disquieting sense of déjà vu prickled over the back of my neck, and I shifted in my chair. “Just because you’ve embraced settled domesticity doesn’t mean it’s what I want.”

Josh lifted his hand in a placating gesture. “I just mean you deserve something nicer for yourself—a place you could install your own bidet, if that’s what you want.”

“Nice costs money.”

“You’re a good handyman and there’s plenty of demand for the kind of work you do. If you took on more jobs and expanded your business, you could afford