Page 13 of The Broken Hearts Club

I’d been telling myself versions of this for almost a year now. Somehow though, it had made a lot more sense before Collie crashed into my life.

4

Miller

The next morning, I showered and got dressed in jeans, sneakers, and my baseball jersey, and then I went in search of my houseguest.

The office door was open. All the bedding had been shoved to one end of the couch in a messy heap, and the alligator was sitting upright in my desk chair, like it was ready to get to work. Collie wasn’t in there though, so I checked the cat’s room next, followed by the kitchen. Then I noticed the connecting door to the garage was propped open with one of Collie’s black Converse sneakers.

I went downstairs and stopped in my tracks at the van’s open side door. The interior was lit by that funky little chandelier, and Collie was reading a paperback on a purple beanbag, with my cat curled up right beside him. I couldn’t help but notice that the silk robe he was wearing had fallen open, revealing a tiny pair of briefs that barely covered his junk.

I was staring directly at his crotch when he noticed me standing there and said, “Oh, hey, Miller.”

I quickly shifted my gaze to his face and floundered for something to say. I ended up with, “David Chang?”

“Collin Souza.”

“No, I know your name. I’m asking if that’s the Korean-American chef I remind you of.”

He smirked and set aside the book. “Did you spend last night googling Korean chefs with TV shows?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t look anything like David Chang,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, either. But then, who do I remind you of?”

“That one guy. You know. He’s been on a bunch of shows.”

“I need way more information than that.”

“He usually has a goatee, which would look weird on you, so don’t grow one. He’s probably in his fifties, and I’ve always thought he’s super sexy.”

I raised a brow and asked, “You think I look like I’m in my fifties?”

“No. You look like he probably did twenty years ago.”

“You’re terrible at explaining who this person is.”

“Look, you’re the one who started asking questions before I had any coffee,” he said. “That reminds me, why don’t you own a coffee maker?”

“I do own one. It’s in the cupboard.”

“Why don’t you keep it on the counter, like everyone else in the world?”

“I don’t like clutter.”

He stared at me for a moment, as if that made no sense to him. Then he said, “Well, I didn’t know you’d hidden your coffee maker, so I came out here to make coffee on my camp stove. But then, Kate followed me. I didn’t want to open the garage door in case she decided to run away, and I’m pretty sure using a propane stove in an enclosed space kills you dead.”

“It does. Never do that.”

“Okay. Anyway, long story short, I never did get any coffee.”

“Come inside, and I’ll make us some. Oh, and so you don’t have to worry about locking yourself out, the code to the keypad is one-one-one-one.”

He said, “That’s a terrible code,” as he got up and climbed out of the van.

“I know. The previous homeowner programmed it, and I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet.”