Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(35)

“Ah, I see,” Gloria says in a disbelieving tone and pursed cheeks.

I’m going to tell you right now, I don’t like her vibe.

I don’t like the way she’s studying us.

I don’t like her clipped tone.

And I don’t like how she’s sitting there with a gleam in her eyes like she’s ready to catch us in a lie.

How can she be so jaded, so disbelieving within seconds of meeting us?

I know when someone is challenging me, and I believe that’s what she’s doing.

How can she see right through me, through us? Does she not believe the validity of our fake relationship? Did she speak to Candace?

Will she go home tonight, and while she’s brushing her teeth and Roberts is combing his mustache with mustache oil, is she going to tell him that we’re frauds and that he should fire me?

Will I have a job tomorrow?

Will Roberts meet me at my cubicle with a box and a sardonic laugh as he watches me pack my pathetic desk up, noticing the one pack of light blue Post-it Notes I stole from Candace a month ago because Ross dared me?

I slip my hand into Silas’s, scared for my freaking life.

It’s bad enough Roberts is going to fire me, but there’s no way I can allow him to see those Post-it Notes. He’ll know the sort of deviant I actually am.

“How did you two meet?” Gloria asks, snapping me out of my thoughts and forcing me to face-plant back into this conversation. But now, instead of surging with waving confidence, I’m teetering on the brink of nerves.

How did we meet?

Great question.

Sweat forms on my upper lip as I attempt to remember the story Silas and I agreed upon, but for the life of me, my mind goes blank.

Black.

It’s all faded.

“The doctor’s office,” I nearly shout. The moment the words leave my mouth, Silas stiffens next to me. I don’t blame him because I’m pretty sure we’re about to go on a wild ride. “Yup, the doctor’s office. Weird, I know, but I was there for a routine checkup, and Silas was there because he got a rock stuck up his nose.” Silas shifts next to me, and I can only imagine what’s going through his head. “Now, some might think that’s a sure-fire way to get a first-class ticket to the emergency room, but not Silas. He’s a real saint and believed his GP could assist him with his needs. I remember seeing him in the waiting room, wondering how a grown man got a rock stuck up his nose. Come to find out, it wasn’t from morbid curiosity or a nose fetish on his end. He just happened to sniff at the wrong time while a car drove by, lodging a rock right up the nostril. What are the chances, right?”

“Very . . . odd,” Gloria says while Roberts studies me carefully. God, he can probably see right through me as well. He’s mentally dialing HR, telling them to pull my file because a firing will occur.

“Anyway, I told him good luck with his nose, then went on my way. Hard to make a love connection with a guy who was mouth breathing the whole time, am I right?” Silas slips his arm around my waist and squeezes me tight. Yeah, he’s not happy.

Don’t worry, dude. I’m not happy either because now I need to run with this story.

“So how did you two connect then?” Roberts asks, seeming more into the story than I initially thought.

I nod slowly and say, “The zoo.”

“The zoo?” Gloria asks.

“Yup. We were both marveling at the domestic donkeys when we turned to leave and bumped into each other. The earth nearly shook as we fumbled to gain our footing. I knocked a chicken tender out of his hand, he accidentally sneezed on my face, and when all was said and done, I cleared my eyes, he pushed his hair out of his face, and it was like angels sang around us. It was rock nose guy . . .”

“Aw,” Gloria says.

“And he had his fly down.”

“Oh,” Roberts replies with a chuckle. I know, I think a fly down is hilarious as well. Real classic comedy.

“Yup, there he was, not one single rock stuck up his nose, munching on a kid-size chicken tender, staring romantically at the domestic donkeys with his fly down.” I wave my hand in front of my face, chuckling. “What an ass . . . am I right?” I laugh a little harder because that was funny. Thankfully, Roberts and Gloria join in.

When the laughter dies down, Gloria says, “What happened next?” And right there, I see that I’ve hooked her. She’s no longer sneering in judgment or trying to see through me but rather leaning forward in interest. She’s invested. Roberts crosses his ankle over the opposite knee and looks positively entertained.

Huzzah.

Now it’s time to really kick it up a notch.

“Naturally, after the angels stopped singing, I told him his fly was down. Befuddled with embarrassment, he gripped his zipper and yanked it up . . .” Gloria and Roberts lean in. “I know what you’re wondering . . . he zipped up too much, right?” I shake my head. “Luckily, that was not the case, but while he zipped up, I bent down and picked up his chicken tender for him. Poor thing was barely nibbled on. When I offered it back to him, he told me we’d surpassed the five-second rule, and he couldn’t finish it. A decision I respected, given the amount of animal feces probably scattered throughout the walkways. He then proceeded to tell me how he was at an expert level of zipping his fly and wasn’t sure why it was down in front of the donkeys. I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, told him not to be embarrassed, and then . . . took off.”