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Malcolm frowned at them as he returned with the drinks. “Why are you two acting weird?”
Celia flushed.
“Why indeed?” Blake took another long gulp around his smile, and Trenton wanted to smack his friend.
“We’re not,” Trenton said, though he could smell his soap on her skin. The scent made him think of their shower and got him hard all over again.
“I bet I know what it is,” Blake said, winking at him. “One of you walked in on the other in the bathroom, didn’t you? That’d be all kinds of awkward.”
Malcolm sighed. “Not everyone acts as childish as you, Blake.” He lifted the flap on the bar to move over to his regular drunk. Trenton watched him take the man’s keys. That was just like Malcolm. He often took care of people.
Celia was frowning as she stared down at her hand. “I’m almost done for the night, and then we can head home.” She turned, taking the drinks over to the customers.
Trenton’s scalp tingled at her calling the condo that. Home.
“I don’t know, Trent,” Blake said, though he’d turned back to his beer. “I’d have a hard time staying close to something that good and not touching it.” He downed the last of it and slapped Trenton on the back. “But I guess that’s why you’re the monk.” He turned away, calling a good night to Malcolm as he left.
Trenton toyed with his own glass. He doubted his friend would call him that if he realized he was still hiding an erection beneath the bar.
Chapter 23
MalcolmgesturedatCeliafrom the bar. She hurried over, wondering what was wrong.
“Take a break,” he told her, waving at the sandwich on the bar.
Celia didn’t bother protesting. After most of another week had passed, she’d become used to him feeding her. Besides, he’d taken it easy on her and only forced the sandwich.
The tavern tended to get busy on Saturdays, and Katie only came to help at night. Eating during a lull was important to keep Celia’s energy up, even if she had no appetite.
The bell over the front entrance rang. Celia jumped up, but it was only Blake. He crossed to the bar, dropping into the seat beside her. He eyed her sandwich enviously.
Celia knew better than to pass him half. “How’s the work upstairs coming?”
“Slowly. I wish I had a full week just to knock it out.” Blake sighed as he propped his head on his hand.
She’d realized earlier in the week that he was working throughout the day before even coming into the bar for the upstairs renovation. And he was doing all the work for free beer and food. Blake might often cut up, but he was a good friend to Malcolm.
“Don’t keep staring at Celia’s food,” Malcolm said, waving his towel at Blake. “I’ll put in an order for you if you’re hungry.”
“I could eat,” Blake said with his more usual grin.
“Don’t I know it,” Malcolm strode farther down to call into the kitchen.
Celia forced another bite of the sandwich, chewing methodically.
Another ding sounded above the front door. Malcolm still had his head popped into the kitchen, so she put down her food and wiped her hands on a napkin.
Blake laid a hand on her arm, stopping her from rising. “Malcolm won’t like it.”
Her cousin was lifting the flap on the bar. “Blake is right.” He pointed a finger at her. “You, sit and finish eating. I’d been taking care of this bar long before you came back.”
She did as she was told, looking thoughtfully after him. Malcolm had his hair pulled back in his loose bun, and was chatting with the customers as he showed them to a table.
“He’s good at taking care of people in all sorts of ways,” Blake said, watching him as well. “I guess you know that better than anyone.”
“Malcolm saved me,” she said. He literally had. If he hadn’t shown up that day, she was certain her mother wouldn’t have stopped.
“So I gather. I never heard the whole story, though.” Blake looked over at her, lifting an eyebrow.
