Unattainable
Page 27
He lifted his hands from the keys dramatically, kicking back in his chair with an exhilarated smile.
“Take that you bastard — hope it stings like a bitch!”
Dylan dated his column and sent it in. Reaching for his long-neglected beer, he took a swig. His face contorted into a wicked grimace.
“Warm and flat.” He shuddered and rolled back his chair, grunting stiffly to his feet. Only now did he notice the daylight streaming in the windows. “Jesus. What time is it?” He scrubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his hands.
Max sat up and started scratching himself, his attention on his master. When Dylan grabbed the last two cheese puffs on the desk, the dog’s tail pounded the floor. Dylan popped one into his mouth then grinned at the dog and tossed the second to him. Max snatched it right out of the air and swallowed it whole.
“You could at least pretend to taste it for my sake,” Dylan said dryly.
The Golden Retriever hopped up and followed his master into the kitchen, parking himself directly behind him when he threw open the refrigerator door.
Dylan pulled out a container of forgotten lunch meat and opened the lid. Taking a cautious sniff, he jerked his head back and sent the bologna sailing across the room. It landed in the trash with a satisfying whump. Max gave the garbage an interested look.
“Don’t even think about it,” Dylan warned. Shit, there was nothing to eat.
He slammed the refrigerator door and straightened up, finally attuned to the stiffness he’d managed to ignore while working. Distractedly rubbing his lower back, he looked at the dog.
“I’ve gotta get something to eat. How does a breakfast sandwich sound to you?”
Max’s tail pounded the floor in double-time.
Dylan grinned and patted his leg. “Yeah, like you know what I said.”
Max leaned against Dylan’s thigh while he rubbed the dog’s ears.
“Come on boy.” He grabbed the leash off the counter and snapped off the kitchen light.
• • •
Two blocks away, Jean shuffled into the kitchen and found Ariela curled over a mug of coffee, a magazine open on the table in front of her.
When Jean saw the headline, Are you getting enough Niacin? she gasped in alarm. “Oh my god. Put that away!”
“What? I’m not doing anything.” Ariela frowned and returned to her article.
Jean snorted. “Yet.” She went to get herself a bowl of cereal.
Not a minute later, Ariela glanced up. “We should really have green tea on hand.”
“You don’t like tea.”
“I could learn. I should.”
Jean groaned. “Do me a favor, stick to the makeover tips and stop reading those health updates. I don’t need you imagining you’ve got a wheat allergy next, and I’m through, I mean it, I’m through with all those stupid fad diets.”
“You make it sound like I’m a hypochondriac or something.”
Jean slowly turned and gave her roommate a significant look.
Ariela rolled her eyes. “Cut that out.”
“So, what time is Mrs. Corley coming in?” Jean pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Nine.”
“Are you going down right away?”
“I’m going to run to the market first and pick up something for later.”
“I have to bring some books over to Banks Brothers at eight.”
“I’ll be right back. Just go do what you have to do. I’ve got it covered.”
“Good.”
• • •
As Ariela dressed for work, she thought about her appointment this morning. Though it was their policy to fawn over their clients, Mrs. Corley was a woman who appreciated a bit more fuss than normal. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean she made it any easier on them. Her habitual indecision was trying, but the money on the line made it worth the trouble.
Their last appointment was particularly frustrating. The knotty-pine cabinets Mrs. Corley had chosen were suddenly out. Now she wanted a radical new look for her kitchen, something sleek and modern. Maybe in oak? Ariela had crossed off the tile countertops without blinking and listened patiently while the client asked about granite, but not necessarily granite, instead. Could she do that?
“That’s no problem,” Ariela assured her, then brought out examples for Mrs. Corley to look over.
Then they moved on to wallpaper samples. That alone took well over an hour, even with Ariela repeatedly steering the woman in the right direction again and again.
If Mrs. Corley didn’t commit to this kitchen plan today, there was no telling what Ariela would do. She could almost picture herself escorting the impossible woman out and giving her a boot in the ass as she waved her off. Ariela sighed. No way could she ever do anything of the sort. Still, it was an enjoyable fantasy. Hours of pleasure without the blowback and guilt.
Being Friday, Ariela would be on her own for lunch again. Jean had a standing date with Ron. Her roommate and business partner was already gone when Ariela slipped out the front door, locking it behind her. Heading down the front steps, she turned left at the sidewalk.
Gorgeous, the day was simply gorgeous: warm sunshine, clear, deep blue sky, and the lazy hum of bumblebees on the old-fashioned roses growing along the neighbor’s fence. Ariela drew the fragrance in and sighed at the unexpected subtle finish of freshly mowed grass that came with it. It was a perfect day to play hooky, or maybe have a picnic.
Truth be told, Ariela didn’t mind the Friday routine. She had an hour, one whole hour, all to herself, and she liked to stroll over to the little market at the end of the block. They usually had something good in their deli case, and a nice selection of sparkling juices and waters to go with it.
• • •
Pushing his way out the doors of the Spiffy Mart, Dylan hastily chewed the last bite of his breakfast sandwich. There were two newspapers caught tight under his left arm and a second unwrapped sandwich in his right hand. Max was exactly where he’d left him, tied to the bike rack.
“Good boy.”
Dylan tore the sandwich into thirds and fed it to the dog. He had to tug the animal back to untie the knot and free him. The instant Max felt the slack in the leash he took off, nearly jerking Dylan’s arm out of its socket. The poor man struggled frantically to keep his newspapers from raining down on the sidewalk one section at a time.
“Max, wait! I said, wait, damn it.”
If he lost anything, Max was going to pay. A newspaper was a treasure, and though Dylan could get all the information he needed off the internet, there was something intrinsically satisfying about holding a paper, having to wash the inky residue off of your fingers when you were done reading, that could never be replaced by a screen. Dylan had a habit of making notes in the margins, too. Plus, there were the daily crosswords. He’d missed those the most while he was gone.
Dylan hauled the dog back at the corner to keep him from darting into traffic. Giving up the fight for the moment, Max waited for the light, his tail happily fanning the air. When the light changed, Dylan eased up on the leash and the dog took the lead, this time striding as regally as a show dog. His owner chuckled. Right. Anyone who saw them might be fooled but he knew better. Max was a disaster waiting to happen.
He looked up from the dog as they crossed the intersection, the smile still lingering on his lips, and was just in time to see a bike messenger shoot out of a dental-office parking lot and barrel right into a woman on the sidewalk. The large hedge growing next to the lot must have blocked her from view.
The impact threw the woman backward, and Dylan winced when he heard her head hit the concrete over the sound of the traffic. He broke into a run and reached the scene as the stunned bicyclist fought his way back to his feet. The man stared bug-eyed at the woman lying in front of his t
ire.
Max, always the friendliest of dogs, chose that inopportune moment to leap on the man, nearly knocking him over again. Dylan dragged Max back by his leash.
The messenger turned his horrified eyes on Dylan. “I didn’t see her. I swear. She was just there.” They both looked at her now. “Do you think she’s okay?” the messenger asked anxiously.
The woman raised her head, a confused look on her face, and mumbled something.
Dylan dropped to one knee beside her. “Are you all right?”
Her hand went to her forehead. “I think so.” She squinted to look up at him, but the sun caught her directly in the eyes. She grimaced and shut them again, turning her head away.
Despite his concern, Dylan couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked, how nice she smelled. Her delicate perfume invaded his head with his next breath. A little shaken by it, he rose and gave the bicyclist an uncertain shrug.
“She seems okay, but I’m not a doctor.” One thing was certain — she was going to have one whopper of a goose egg on the back of her head.
The courier checked his wristwatch. “Man, I really have to fly. I’m on the clock here.”
“Do you have a business card?” asked Dylan, since the woman wasn’t asking for herself.
“Yes.” He pulled one out of a ridiculously tight pocket and handed it over before going into an apology.
Dylan raised his hand, stopping him. “It’s cool. I’ll stick around.”
“That’s great. Thanks. I really appreciate it.” He didn’t waste another second in their company.
“Okay,” said Dylan, turning back to the woman sprawled on the sidewalk. A sudden chill sliced right through him. She was too quiet, too still. He went back down on his knee to take a closer look.
“Hey. Still with me?”
No. Or she was doing one hell of a Sleeping Beauty impersonation. That stray thought left him wondering if a kiss would actually wake her.
“Better not try it,” he said to Max. Dylan patted her soft cheek instead. “Miss, miss? Can you hear me?”
This is when Max decided to get involved. He nudged his way in and licked the poor woman from chin to hairline in long slobbery strokes.
“What the hell?” Dylan wrestled him back, banishing the dog to the nearby grass. If an animal could sulk, Max was certainly doing it now.
“You stay there. I mean it.” Dylan pointed sternly at the animal.
“I’m bleeding!” the woman suddenly wailed.
Startled, Dylan whipped around to find her feeling her face with a look of outright panic in her eyes.
“You’re not bleeding,” he assured her. “That was just my dog. He licked you. Sorry about that.” Who could blame the animal? Dylan was having similar thoughts himself.
“I feel wet,” she said weakly.
“I know, that’s because my dog — ”
“What?” Then she started to fade.
“Hey! Can you focus on me?” Dylan took her head in his hands and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she locked on to his deep lapis blues.
“Wow,” she whispered before going limp.
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