“Okay,” Simon replied. It felt like a ridiculous answer, though he wasn’t sure why. “Have a seat.”
Trevor pulled out a chair and sat. He began picking papers out of folders and spreading them out on the tabletop. His hands were beaten and rough. There was sun damage, which Simon almost brought up. He should take care of his skin. He should take care of his hands.
Simon sat beside him. They were different men with different jobs. They used their hands in different ways. Besides the surgery scar, there was nothing cosmetically wrong with Simon’s. No callouses or wear and tear, yet his were broken for what he needed to do. After a couple weeks, Trevor’s would be fine. The bandage would be gone and he would make a full recovery.
They spent the next hour going over the proposal. There were a few changes that Simon wanted, primarily to his office and library area. It’s where he would write his book. What the hell else did he have to do with his time other than that?
He had to admit, though, that what Trevor had put together was pretty spot on. He obviously knew what he was doing. Many things he’d brought up Simon hadn’t considered, or didn’t know about.
He leaned back in his chair. “It’s yours if you want it, but my stipulation from yesterday stands. Not until your hand is healed. And I want you to oversee it.” The last part was an unexpected addition but one Simon felt secure in.
Lines formed around Trevor’s eyes. The blue in them seemed to swirl, trying to focus as though they couldn’t, and then his dark brows pulled together again. “Blake usually—”
“Good for Blake. You’re the one I’ve spoken to. You’re the one I want.”
Trevor’s eyes sparked, almost looked ablaze with...Simon wasn’t sure what. He recovered quickly and said, “You’re a bossy son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”
It probably wasn’t the best thing to say to a prospective employer. No one Simon knew would have spoken to him in such a manner, but it didn’t bother him that Trevor did. He chuckled. Hell, maybe he even liked that Trevor did.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I—” Trevor started.
“It’s okay.”
“There’s a reason Blake usually does the talking.” Trevor’s lips tightened slightly when he said that. Not in anger, Simon didn’t think.
“Eh. You keep people on their toes.” He would keep Simon that way. He word-vomited sometimes like no one Simon ever knew.
Trevor was silent for a moment. Simon could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Thank you. I appreciate it. You won’t regret it.”
Somehow, Simon didn’t think he would.
The silence in the room was interrupted when Trevor’s stomach growled. They were still sitting close; other chairs were at the table but they still sat next to each other despite the fact that they weren’t looking at paperwork anymore.
And Simon didn’t want to move. He wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed being overly close to people. He didn’t understand all the touching and hugging people often participated in, but in this moment, being close to Trevor didn’t bother him. “I’d offer you something to eat but I’m not sure I have anything.”
Trevor scooted his chair back. “Supercross is on tonight. If you’re just going to be hanging around here, we can order a pizza and watch it.”
Simon laughed. He’d catch hell for this one. “That would work if I had a television.”
Trevor’s eyes went wide. “How in the hell do you not have a TV? You’re a thirty-year-old guy and you don’t have a TV? What’s wrong with you, man?” He laughed.
“Thirty-seven, and no, I don’t.” This is where he should thank Trevor, let the guy pack up his stuff and go...but the truth was, the thought of sitting in this house another minute made Simon’s skin crawl. He needed out. Needed to do something. “Let’s go grab a burger or something and we can watch it.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Trevor’s smile slowly started to slip off his face. He let out a deep breath and said, “Where?”
He couldn’t go to a bar, and that apparently bothered him. Not because he wanted to drink so badly, Simon didn’t think, but just because he couldn’t, and he figured Simon would want to.
“You’ve lived here longer than me. Where’s a good place to go? You mentioned pizza. Most pizza joints have a few televisions going.”
There was another thank you in Trevor’s eyes. “Yeah, okay. Come on. I’ll drive.”
