Second First Impressions(26)
“Sorry, sorry.” I’m sure I go red. “So what have they had you doing?”
He folds his arm back across his stomach. “My first mistake was to say I’m not a morning person.”
“Oh Teddy. Very foolish.”
“My new start time for the rest of the week is six A.M.” He gives me a look of genuine resentment. “You could have trained me, so I knew how to play this. But you just threw me in the deep end on purpose. What did I ever do to you?”
The gas station hysterics come to mind. Ditto getting Providence on his dad’s bulldozer list. He’s blissfully unaware of either crime. Here’s the most annoying part of this: It’s impossible to maintain the irritation I wish I could have with him. He’s my friend, whether I like it or not.
“I knew you could handle it.”
Big grumbling sigh. “After I buried the white shirt under a lemon tree, Renata told me I’d buried it under the wrong tree. So I dig it up, rebury it, and I think I’m done. But then she decides maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, so I redig it, and have to hand-wash it in the laundry.”
“Sure. Okay.”
“You are not remotely surprised. What crazy shit have you seen?” His eyes have gone wild.
“I’ve seen everything. And don’t forget, every time one of you quit, it’s me digging and reburying. Anyway, I’m sure you need to get back to them.” The pull to walk up to the rec center is almost overwhelming. He waves me down.
“I’m not done venting. That only takes us up to a quarter past nine. Ruthie, the things I’ve done this morning are just illogical. Is she … of sound mind?” He shakes his head. “I did the Cupboard Cake Challenge.”
“Ah. I’ve done that.” (Make a cake with what you can find.)
“They had no flour. I ended up making this weird peanut flour in the food processor.”
“The point is, you tried.”
“Renata made me set the table for a tea party, with all the good china and a tablecloth, and serve them like a butler. I had to invent a tragic backstory for my character, and the cake was …” He tries to find a word. “An abomination. She made me bury it under the lemon tree in the original hole.” His bleary eyes catch onto mine. “I have to do this again, every day, from six A.M.? It’ll be like purgatory.”
“Has Aggie talked to you about your salary?”
He perks. “It’s this strange arrangement,” he begins, then hears himself and shakes his head. “I mean, of course it is. She says she’s devised an incentive scheme. Every week I’m working for them, the salary doubles, to a capped amount that is some CEO-level shit. I could be at Christmas dinner telling everyone I’m officially a part owner of my studio.” He looks sideways, daydreaming.
“That’s great.” I smile encouragingly even though inside, I’m drooping.
“But I’m not going to make it. You were right.” He leans forward and drapes himself facedown across my desk. His cheek is on my calculator and the screen fills with numbers. “I should have known. You’re always right.”
“You’re very professional. Not at all dramatic.” I’m smiling anyway.
I don’t know what to do with this lax male body. His hair is twisted into a knot, held with a grim rubber band, and it’s depressing how much I wish it was loose, washing over me like a tsunami.
From this side of the desk, all I can see is the big rounded slopes of his shoulders cling-wrapped in cotton. The vulnerable shells of his ears. I can only see the side of the rose tattoo inked on the back of his arm, but I know it is pretty enough to be printed on wallpaper. All of him is.
“Daisy.” I tap my finger on one of many flowers inked on the inside of his wrist. “Ah, I see.”
Every time he was bored, he added another daisy for his sister. The girl in me wants to sigh that’s so sweet. The woman in me wants to know exactly how many other females are indelibly marked all over him. If he has a big heart somewhere with a name in it, I’m going to be pissed off. How did that big surge of hot air fill my lungs? “How many sisters do you have?”
Despite his deadness he replies, “Four. They all think I’m useless.”
“I’m sure they don’t.”
“It’s true, I am. They tell me a lot.”
“You know what my mother always says? You’ve got two hands and a heartbeat. You’re not useless. I really should go check the rec center door. I was careless last night.” I laughed in the bath and I walked around in the dark with my head full of him. It’s frustrating how handsome men scramble up the people around them.
His hands are curled over the edge of my side of the desk. Right there, inches from me. GIVE and TAKE. They’re really beautiful hands, and I’ve seen what they can create.
“I need you to help me get through this.” His eyelashes are dark on his cheek. “Do you hear me? I need you.”
On the back of his right hand is that temporary number 50 and I’m glad it’s there to remind me. A few lettuce leaves, a rest, and Teddy will be swimming off without a backward glance.
I am too honest in my response. “And what happens to me, when I get you through this? Ever think that maybe I need help too?” I hear him inhale in a way that makes me want to rewind time.