The Absence of Olivia(71)

I had packed my travel mug, I had my bagel, and I was just leaving him a note when I heard his door open and his footsteps start down the stairs.

“Shit,” I whispered to myself, looking toward the door to gauge whether I could make a clean getaway before he appeared. I quickly realized, unless I wanted him to see me dashing for the front door as if the kitchen were on fire, I would have to face him. I grabbed my bagel and took a bite, trying to appear comfortable in my own kitchen, and probably failing spectacularly.

He came around the corner and I knew I was doomed. He looked exactly as I was afraid he would. Sexy. Rumpled. Sleepy. Lickable. Damn.

“Morning,” he said in a rough, sleepy voice.

Damn.

“Morning,” I said, forgetting I had bagel in my mouth, crumbs shooting forward and landing on the floor. I covered my mouth quickly, rolling my eyes at my own ineptitude. “Morning,” I tried again once my mouth was empty.

He laughed and pointed toward the coffee pot. “Do you mind if I grab a cup?”

“No, no. Please, help yourself.” I watched as he opened a cupboard, guessing their location correctly on the first try, and pulled out a mug. He poured the coffee while I stared at his broad shoulders. The t-shirt he was wearing was just tight enough to show his muscles flexing in a delicious way.

He turned back around and I suddenly found my shoes extremely interesting, moving my eyes away from his body as fast as I could.

“You’re up early,” I managed. “Especially considering the time change.”

“I’m used to getting up early in my line of work. Generally, you want to get a lot of the work done before the day gets too hot. Also,” he said, a playful smirk spreading over his mouth, “I heard you trying to be quiet.” He laughed a little as he brought the mug to his lips, and then sipped. “You whisper to yourself. Did you know that?”

“I do not,” I cried, but tried to think back over my morning to see if I could recall whispering anything.

“You do, actually. You narrate your morning. Or, at least you did today. I heard you tell yourself it was time for a shower and also when it was time for coffee.” His smile grew wider and he crossed his legs at the ankle as he leaned back against the counter. “I thought it was adorable.”

This was exactly what I was afraid of – him, being cute, comfortable, and cozy in my house. No, this wouldn’t do. “Well, I’m going to go whisper to myself at work then,” I said, my voice strained. I was caught somewhere between completely aroused and extremely uncomfortable because I was aroused. “Do you need anything before I take off?”

“I just need to know what time you’ll be home to make plans for dinner.”

“I’ll be back around five. Again, help yourself to anything in the house. I’m sorry I have to be gone, but today will be a busy day because of the show yesterday. I’m expecting lots of phone calls and emails and things of that nature.” I said all this while backing up toward the door. I kept my eyes on him, talking to fill the space between us, half-afraid that if I didn’t slowly escape, he was going to eat me alive.

“See you at five,” he said, his smirky, sexy grin still plastered across his face.

I turned abruptly and quickly opened and closed the door, breathing out a sigh of relief when I’d made it outside.

“Make it through the workday and then dinner and everything will be okay,” I whispered to myself as I walked toward my car.



The day passed at a fast pace. As I expected, I was inundated with phone calls and emails, all contacts who’d been at the show the night before wanting to make plans for future projects. Sylvia had been nice enough to come in on her day off to assist me, and around ten a.m. came in to my office with a wonderfully large cup of coffee.

“You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.” She handed me the cup and I noticed there was extra ice – just the way I liked it.

“I’m the only assistant you’ve ever had.”

“That’s irrelevant.” I took a sip of the too sweet coffee concoction I loved and then let out a happy sigh. “Okay, now that I’m caffeinated, what’s the word?”

“The word is you made thirty thousand dollars last night.”

“Shut the fucupcakes.” My mouth gaped open.

“I will not. I’m not even sure I know what that means.”

“Thirty thousand dollars? As in, one thousand dollars thirty times over? As in one dollar thirty thousand times?”

Sylvia laughed as I gaped.

“That’s exactly what I said. Thirty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for one show, Evie.” She raised her eyebrows at me. She was pretty much telling me ‘I told you so,’ without saying the words. I gave her the satisfaction anyhow.

“You were right,” I breathed, leaning all the way back in my chair.

“With that kind of money, you can pay someone to manage the gallery and spend more time taking photographs,” she said, her voice soft and easy, as if she was afraid I wouldn’t like her suggestion.

My eyes grew wide.

“I can buy a better camera.”

Again, Sylvia laughed. “Yes, you sure can.”

“I can’t believe it.” Even to me, my voice sounded far away. Sure, I’d priced all the photos. I knew what they all would go for, but I’d never allowed myself to imagine a scenario where I made my old yearly salary in one night. That didn’t happen to people like me.