After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(15)

“Is this a regular occurrence?” I ask, stopping in the hallway.

“Yoga and Bob Marley.” Lucius shakes his head, his black dreads flying. When he smiles, I can count four lip piercings in his bottom lip. “Don’t worry, now that you’ve been fully initiated, I’ll take over Mr. Rigglesworth’s blowouts.”

“Oh, thank God,” I say in a rush. “Wait…initiated?”

“Hope you’re not too angry with us,” Leslie says as she joins us. “New girl or guy always has to deal with Mr. R.”

Leslie and Lucius give me identical, sheepish smiles.

Suddenly, an image of Hunter pops in my head, his smile lopsided as he talks about being the FNG. Oh. My. Gosh. I’m the FNG.

“I’m the f*cking new girl,” I practically shout, then slap my hand over my mouth. “Ack. Sorry.” But I’m really not because the thought of being the FNG makes me giddy. It makes me feel like I belong.

Leslie claps her hands together and touches the tips of her fingers to her mouth. “Don’t apologize. We’ve all been there.”

“It’s all good,” Lucius agrees. Another flash of white teeth against dark brown skin and he is walking away, humming as he goes.

“Back to the office for me,” Leslie says before waddling away.

I really like them.

Saylor steps out into the hallway, her usual bright smile out in full force. “There you are! Ready for lunch?”

The thought of food makes me slightly queasy, but my stomach rumbles before I can say anything.

“That’s a yes.” Saylor threads one arm through mine. “Let’s go. I’ll drive. The fresh air will help you feel better.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“The green color of your face kind of gave it away.”

The sun shines bright, making me squint and cover my eyes. “I need to get my sunglasses and purse.”

“Sure thing.” She lets go of me. “I’m the Jeep Wrangler.”

Once I grab my purse and shove my sunglasses on, I get in the Jeep with Saylor. It’s bright red and has a stick shift. “You know how to drive stick?”

“Every girl should.”

“For sure, but most don’t. A lot of guys don’t even know how to drive stick,” I say as she puts the windows down. A warm breeze stirs through my hair as we leave the parking lot.

“True. Gosh, the last guy who took me out drove a smart car. Do you know how hard it is to take a guy who drives a smart car seriously?” she asks. I can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. “His knees were practically in his chest. How smart is it to drive like that?”

“At least you can keep close for warmth in the winter?”

Saylor bursts out laughing as she shifts into third gear. “He tried that line on me.”

“Didn’t work, huh?”

“Ah, no. Plus, he hated my cat.”

“Oooh.” I wince. “That’s a hard one to get past.”

“To be fair, she did sink her claws into his testicles, so…”

“Omigosh,” I say, laughing. “Do you normally have first-date disasters?”

She nods. “Unfortunately, I rarely get an invitation to a second one, and never a third.”

“Never?” I turn to stare at her in shock. “But you’re…so—”

“Odd,” she says firmly.

“Sweet and friendly,” I disagree.

“Thanks, but I’m an oddball…who happens to be girly, too. I know just enough about Star Wars for a hardcore fan to think I’m a poseur. So those guys are out. And, I’m a pop-culture buff, especially the eighties and nineties decades, so hipster dudes think I’m all about consumerism.” Glancing at me, she smiles, but there’s an air of sadness behind it. “I’m okay with that because I’m comfortable with who I am as a person.”

“There are other guys out there, you know. You just need to find the right one,” I say, as if I have any business offering dating or relationship advice.

“If you meet him before I do, be sure to send him my way, but make sure he likes animals first.”

Our lunch date is quick, since we get only thirty minutes. Saylor keeps the conversation going by talking about some of her favorite TV shows. A plus for me since I have about eight shows to add to my watch list.

The rest of the day flies by as I take turns at manning the front desk and bringing the cats out to play. Cats playing mostly consists of them running and flopping down in the middle of the room or climbing up towers of carpet. It’s oddly mesmerizing.

“You’re done for the day,” Saylor says as I herd the last cat into its room.

I check my watch. “But it’s only four.”

“You came in at eight, which means four is quitting time.” Saylor grins at me. “You can always clean Mr. Rigglesworth’s kennel again, if you’re that keen on staying.”

My eyes widen. “First, no. Second, he had another blowout?”

A snort leaves Saylor as she shakes her head. “Just kidding.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. We love when the new guy cleans up poo.”

“I bet you do,” I grumble.

She bites her bottom lip. “Will I see you tomorrow?”