But he had enjoyed the sparring that had come with it. Hell, for all he knew, without his loud music, they might still just be two strangers who exchanged pleasantries at the mailbox the way he did with the rest of the building.
Not neighbors who kissed every bit as well as they fought.
His gaze flicked over to where Heather was refilling everyone’s glasses, laughing as the blond wedding planner—Brooke—told some story about her latest client who was insistent on bacon cake.
No, he definitely didn’t want to be strangers with her. He never felt quite so alive as when he was bickering with her, and these days, being alive was everything. Which was probably why he’d offered to help her with brunch this morning the instant he saw her flustered and overwhelmed. If only his mother could see him now, he thought ironically.
“You like her,” Alexis said with the slightest smile.
Josh reached for the bowl of eggs he’d whisked earlier. She was a straight shooter. He liked that.
But he could be a straight shooter, too.
“I do like Heather. And you like your accountant. Logan, is it?”
Alexis’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I like him. We’re friends.”
“Sure,” Josh said with an easy smile. “That’s what I meant.”
It’s actually not at all what he’d meant, and from the way her eyes stayed narrowed on him, Alexis knew it.
She might think she and her accountant were just friends, but the other man had his gaze trained on her every time she wasn’t looking. Josh knew a man in want, and Logan Harris was downright hungry when it came to Alexis.
Luckily, Josh was saved from having to respond to that by Logan ambling over to the kitchen as he dumped the eggs into the skillet and dug around in Heather’s drawer for a spatula.
“You cook?” Logan said to Josh, his British accent doing nothing to hide his surprise.
“I know, I don’t look the part,” Josh said, spreading his arms to the side and glancing down at his gray Henley and jeans. “But my mother was determined I’d be able to feed myself in college and beyond, so she taught me the basics. Eggs. Chicken parmesan. That sort of thing.”
“So what do you do, Josh?” Logan asked.
“I’m a musician,” he said. And since he didn’t particularly feel like talking about that, he shifted focus back to the other man. “You’re an accountant, yeah?”
“Yep. Boring, right?” Logan said in a good-naturedly self-deprecating manner, taking a sip of his drink.
“No, actually,” Josh said slowly as he dragged the spatula through the eggs. “I used to . . . I like numbers.”
“Yeah?” Logan asked, his eyes lighting up.
“And, I’m out,” Alexis said brightly, wandering away to join the other women, who were interrogating Brooke’s boyfriend, Seth, about some new hotel his company was opening in the Bahamas.
“I get it, you know,” Logan said quietly. “I play the piano.”
Josh’s head snapped up, seeing from the quiet understanding in the other man’s eyes that he did, in fact, get it. Which was pretty unusual: It was something that very few people in his circle seemed to understand, that music and numbers were inextricably linked. That mathematics were the very foundation of music, if you just paid attention. It was the same reason why Josh’s mind always flitted to complex number problems when he was playing, and why he was never found without his earbuds in while he’d been working back when he was a hedge fund manager.
“So who do you work for?” Josh asked, dumping cheese into the nearly done eggs.
“Myself.”
Josh’s interest went from mildly curious to rabid. “Really?”
Logan shrugged. “I always thought I’d work for a big firm back in London, but I don’t want someone else calling the shots. Running my own business isn’t easy, especially in Manhattan, but it’s worth the freedom and not having to answer to anyone.”
“Huh.” Josh flicked off the burner, but instead of calling to Heather to see how she wanted to serve up the eggs, he stayed perfectly still, lost in thought.
It was strange, but he’d never really thought about doing his own thing. For him, his work in finance had always meant the corporate world. The suits and the corner office and the life that never felt entirely like your own.