by S. A. Wolfe
“Jesus Effing Barnacles!” I scream. Bert bolts off the bed and runs down the stairs to happily greet whoever has come to ruin my morning.
“Traitor!” I shout after him.
I push my knotted hair back and put on a mint-green silk robe that belonged to Aunt Ginnie. I don’t bother looking in the mirror and fixing myself up, I figure whoever thinks calling on me at seven in the morning is okay deserves a good scare.
When I reach the first landing, the front door is open and I see Carson letting in two of the 5 Alpha tech guys, Matthew and Ken. Carson is saying something to them I can’t hear before he notices me coming down the stairs.
“You are definitely not a morning person,” he declares. “And you’ve got an impressive temper.”
I sigh and thump down the stairs, ignoring his remark.
“Hey, Jess,” Ken greets.
“Hi guys,” I reply. “I’m surprised Nathan made you leave so early. I didn’t even know you were coming today.”
“We wanted to beat the traffic. We brought everything,” Matthew voices. “We’ll have it all set up and be out of your way in an hour or so. Tell us where you want it.”
“Oh, but I want it in the library, and Carson still has to put it together and clean it up today.”
“It’s done,” Carson addresses me with a slight smile.
“What? I thought you just got here. How could it be done already?”
I turn around and begin jogging back up to the second floor with all three men following me. I am shocked when I walk into the library. The bookcases are complete; stained, polished and shining. The pine floor is glistening clean. The furniture is unwrapped and Aunt Ginnie’s entire hardcover book collection has been arranged on the shelves. Two new chairs have been added that blend well with the rustic leather couch. These pieces have high backs and smooth, contoured seats. A new, huge, square coffee table has been placed in front of the couch. The wood is a bit more weathered and unfinished, which adds to the rustic look and makes it more eclectic than a traditional library. They must have come from Carson’s shop. The room looks pristine and incredible, like a page out of an interior design magazine.
“You can set up her monitor here. I turned the desk around so she can face the view outside,” Carson explains and then Matthew and Ken leave my side. They follow Carson and listen to everything he says since he seems to be the authority on this room. They talk amongst themselves and then leave to retrieve boxes from the SUV they have out front.
“What is going on?” Imogene asks. She is still wearing her bikini with a T-shirt over it and, with her smudged raccoon eyes and disheveled hair, she could pass as a crack addict. Lauren, who also woke up from all the shouting, doesn’t fare much better in her Hello Kitty T-shirt. They both look like they’re in agony from their heavy drinking in the hot sun.
I ignore them both and turn back to the one guy who seems to think he’s still my babysitter.
“When did you do all this?” I ask Carson, who is adjusting the desk position and what looks to be a new table lamp.
“This morning while you were sleeping.”
“What time did you get here?” I know I sound very rude.
“Four-thirty.”
“Who does that? Seriously, Carson, you can’t let yourself into my house while I’m sleeping and work at these ungodly hours.”
“Carson, that’s insane,” Lauren agrees.
“You don’t like the room?” Carson asks me.
“Of course I like it. You know I do and you also know that I call the shots in this house, not you.”
Carson smiles a little bit at that. He’s not a grinner like Dylan, but Carson seems to have moments when he wants to smile yet tries very hard not to.
“I knew these guys were coming early, so I thought I’d have the room ready.”
I must look as deranged as I feel. “Whoa. How did you know they were coming this morning? I didn’t even know.”
“When we were here yesterday I heard the call come in on the answering machine. I assumed you listened to your messages last night.”
I want to scream at him. I want the information that he’s only willing to deliver in cryptic sound bites. “What answering machine?” I raise my voice. “There was nothing on my cell phone.”
“Settle down, Babycakes.” He puts his hands up to block my bad vibes. “Gin’s machine is on the kitchen counter. That ancient black box? You can’t miss it. Your boss, Nathan, must have had trouble reaching you on your cell phone and got the number to the house from information. I don’t know. Oh, and by the way, he also sent flowers. I put them on the dining room table.”
I’m huffing and puffing like a child, angry that I am so clueless about the house, what’s going on and that I’m sleeping through everything. I hate that Carson must consider me a spoiled princess compared to what he’s gone through. I probably come across as an ungrateful brat.
“Sorry for the Babycakes remark. Next time, I’ll come later,” he says. The tension between us is palpable.
“Next time?” Although my voice is calmer, I’m still angry. “You’re going to do this again?”
“I still have more work that I promised to finish for Gin, but if you want me to send someone else, or we could hire out a different crew, you let me know.”
“The room looks nice.” It’s more of a hiss than a compliment. “I need to go take a shower.” I walk out of the room, stomping up the stairs. Why did I mention the shower? Now he’s picturing me naked in the shower. You wish. Oh, shut up, you have a date with his brother.
“Maybe if you and your friends weren’t hungover, you could get up at a reasonable hour like the rest of the world,” he shouts up the stairs.
“Argh!” I shout back and slam my bedroom door.
I stay in my room for at least two hours. I take a long, hot shower, shave my legs and deep condition my hair. Then I spend forever drying my hair with product to remove the frizz. Plus, the process of making long, loose curls takes a half hour and ten finger burns on the curling iron. The make-up is easier; I only apply a little eye shadow, some mascara and gloss my lips with a red tint. My appearance is vastly improved since that horrible wake-up call and my monstrous behavior. I have very few clothes with me, but I did bring a flattering pair of Capri jeans that go well with my white sleeveless blouse. As I head back downstairs the smell of coffee and bacon is divine. I make it to my fabulous new library on the second floor and discover Imogene and Lauren, having showered and dressed, lounging on the couch with Bert, along with coffee and a few newspapers.
“I made coffee and bacon,” Imogene tells me as I come into the room. “It’s in the kitchen. Oh, and did you know that Carson brought fresh croissants? I guess he picked them up at the bakery, hot out of the oven, before he came over here and set-up this fantastic room for you.”
“Hmm,” Lauren adds. “Pretty nice of him. I can’t believe how you raked him over the coals. Ouch.”
I pinch my mouth shut. I don’t like where this is going.
“And you have Internet access!” Lauren announces, waving her tablet in the air.
“And those flowers from your boss are gorgeous. Time to come out of your cave, Miss Channing, you’re missing the day,” Imogene says.
“Ech,” I say. I notice all my equipment, including five large computer monitors, are set up on the desk. “Where’s Carson?” Then I hear hammering. “Never mind.”
Bert follows me downstairs and we find Carson holstering his hammer in the living room.
“Thank God, you’re putting that away,” I say as he adjusts his tool belt. He’s stingy with his smiles; however, I get a small one.
“How’s your head?” he asks, gazing at me thoroughly.
“I’m fine—oh, my gosh,” I say, realizing the living room is immaculate. The tarps and the table saw are gone. The furniture has been put back in place. The floor is polished and the paintings on the wall have been uncovered. “You’re like an elf. You come and work in the n
ight and I wake up to these little miracles.”
“It’s a nice room.” He nods. “And, F.Y.I., no guy wants to be referred to as an elf.”
I laugh. “Yeah, well, okay.”
“Still hung-over? There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”
“I’m not hung-over and, don’t worry, I plan on eating the breakfast.”
“By the way, I had no idea you had so many computers. They block your view outside. I assumed they’d be setting up one monitor, so if you want me to move the desk to the side of the room, I can.”
“No, I like where it is. This way, the glare from the sun won’t affect my screens. It will be fine, thanks.”
There’s an awkward pause, since I don’t know what to say to Carson. His tall, hunky, workman handsomeness makes my hormones stupid and I can’t help gawking. Bert leaves us and waddles towards the kitchen so I take that moment to excuse myself from Carson’s lascivious aura. “I’m going to go eat.”
I pass through the dining room and notice Nathan’s ginormous bouquet of yellow roses and wonder what they represent. Roses don’t seem appropriate for condolences. The note is written in Nathan’s messy scrawl. “You’re the best!” He’s such a nerd. I don’t even know what he means.
My escape to the kitchen is short-lived. I am leaning against the counter, munching on a croissant and bacon together, when Imogene and Lauren thank me for the hospitality and head off to the diner for their day shift. Then Carson appears again and my chest constricts as perspiration beads across my forehead.
“So all of our equipment is out of here, but I still have to come back and tick minor things off Gin’s list. I have to measure for some new appliances in here and Gin wanted me to strip the face of the cupboards and paint them.”
I nod and wipe croissant crumbs from my mouth. I would like to avoid looking at him because being near him makes me fumble, verbally and physically, however, he’s not getting the hint.
“Can I ask you what you do at 5 Alpha exactly? Gin, told me you work in software, but she didn’t have specifics.”
I’m flattered he wants to know more about me, although he is the type of person who pays attention to details. They seem to matter to him greatly, whereas Dylan is more about enjoying the moment.
“I have a few different project teams. One of them does the engineering designs to make integrated circuits. The other team designs software for analyzing resistivity.” I decide not to provide a more detailed explanation because this is usually the point where people nod along and then nod off—I sound that boring—but Carson looks genuinely interested.
“I know what you’re talking about. Those two guys said you are a hotshot at the firm. I believe it.”
“Ken and Matthew are being generous. 5 Alpha hires hotshots. I’m nothing special there.”
“Liar. They set up a special office for you here because they don’t want to lose you. I’m going to Google you.” Oh boy, he flashes me a wide grin.
I know I’m blushing. Fair-skinned redheads turn a rosy pink rather easily.
“Too bad you don’t have your big hat to cover up that lie,” Carson says and I smile. For him, I think to myself.
“So, you still think I’m a lousy influence on your brother?”
“I never said that.”
“But you think I’m wrong for him.”
“I never said that, either. I doubt you’re wrong for anyone.” That floors me. “But I’m not sure Dylan can handle anyone. There’s a difference.”
“Care to explain?”
“I’m not sure it’s my place.” His demeanor instantly becomes more subdued again. What is it with these up and down moods of his?
“Why not? You seem very good at butting into other people’s lives.”
“Yeah, I probably deserve that, but with Dylan it’s different.”
“So, you’re being overly protective of him, but you won’t really tell me why and I’m having dinner with him, which you may or may not find objectionable. Thanks for making things clearer for me,” I snap.
“I’ll say this. Dylan is a good person and he means well. I have my reasons to be concerned about him, but I’m not going to get into that right now.”
“That was nice and cryptic. I could be going out to dinner with a serial killer and you’re not telling me.”
Carson doesn’t look amused at all. I’m pushing all the wrong buttons now.
“He really likes you,” Carson says as though it pains him to admit it. “So are you going to start working today?”
“Are you trying to change the subject? No, I can’t work, oh wait. Did Lauren mention that I have Internet now?”
“Yes. The cable guy was here this morning, too. Gin already had the wiring, the cable guy only needed to install the box. I had him put it in the pantry behind the door so it’s easy to get to.”
“Then I guess I am working today,” I say, relieved I can keep collecting a paycheck.
Carson walks to the front door while Bert and I trail right behind him. He’s like a wall of muscle in front of me. Thoughts of him coming back to work in the house override the plans of my upcoming date with Dylan. I’m still daydreaming when he stops abruptly to pick up his toolbox and I bash right into his back. Perfect. Didn’t I already do this with Dylan?
Carson drops the box and turns around to catch me. “I’m sorry, did I do that?”
“No, it was me.” I rub my nose.
He’s holding me by the waist, pulling me into him, but it’s not a déjà vu of Dylan. Carson is something else—something I like very much—and I suspect that being torn between two men in my own imaginary, lovelorn world is a sign of my immaturity. At least, that would be the first thing my mother would say before she asks what they do for a living. My hands are wedged between us, resting against his hard abdomen.
Carson doesn’t let go, as if he’s thinking of something to say or thinking of pulling one of those fast Blackard kisses. “This could be awkward,” he says and releases his grip on me while his hands remain hovering by me.
I’m not sure if he’s having the same thought as me, that a kiss would be awkward since I’m going out with Dylan, or if it’s awkward because he sees me as some virginal geek and he’s never touched one in person before. It’s awkward because I’m over-thinking the whole scenario!
Quickly, I step up on my tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the library. I know I’m a crab in the morning, but thanks for coming in early to fix it up for me.”
Carson doesn’t move. As the aroma of his freshly laundered T-shirt mixed with sweat pummels my brain, it hits me. Dylan is the light version of Carson. Dylan is a dream guy for any woman, even me, but if you want to amp it up and make it more interesting with a guy who’s complex and intellectually challenging, my bet is on Carson. Unfortunately, he’s difficult to read and I’m too inexperienced to pursue someone like him.
Dylan is more my speed, laid back and sweet, and I have agreed to go out with him. That little reminder makes me push back completely from Carson’s arms. Once out of his grasp we both look at one another. Is he considering the lost moment? What may have happened between us? Therein lies my problem; I’m between them. I tell myself that I’m playing a dangerous game even if I think I’ve chosen the safer path with Dylan. I’m hardly an expert on this topic and the tight flutters in my chest tell me that I’m not fooling myself.
“I’m going to get to work now,” I say.
“Yeah, I have to get going, too. We’ll be back to work on the kitchen when the new appliances come in.” He lingers in the doorway, as though he wants to say something else, but I cut him off before he can consider it.
“Bye.”
“Goodbye, Jess.”
I close the door so I don’t get caught watching him walk to his truck. Then I jump up on the staircase and peek through the small, decorative window to admire his swagger, lugging his heavy toolbox. Damn that swagger.
Twelve
Dylan rings the doorbell at exac
tly six o’clock right as I finish tying the vintage halter top around my neck. I found it in Aunt Virginia’s closet along with an assortment of well-maintained retro pieces. The halter is black crepe with ruffles around the edges; very elegant and rather sexy, especially paired with my short black skirt. My legs are bare and have a nice, sun-kissed hue to them.
I traipse down the stairs, carrying a pair of black, sling-back sandals with a kitten heel. It’s the best I could do considering I expected to be here wearing mourning clothing and not dating attire. My red hair is down, voluminous and curled. I will regret it later when it’s wet and sticking to the back of my neck, yet right now, I’m going for maximum effect.
I fling open the door and get the reaction I expected from Dylan, who falls over himself to be generous with compliments.
“Wow, I thought you were stunning in that red bathing suit yesterday, but now, you look even more gorgeous, if that’s possible,” he says with a wide grin.
I’m glad I dressed up because Dylan is a vision of male beauty. He’s having another Ralph Lauren moment in his black dress pants paired with a fitted, white dress shirt. His shoes are polished and there’s no mud in sight. There’s not even a Jeep. Behind him, parked in the driveway, sits a shiny, black sports car.
“Thank you. You look nice yourself.” I slip on my shoes and grab my clutch off the stairs.
“You’re sure I don’t look like a waiter in this get-up?”
“Ha! Absolutely not.”
I lock the door and hold Dylan’s arm as we walk down the stairs to the path. He immediately shakes my hand off his arm and catches it in his hand. He holds it firmly and it’s thrilling, of course, to have his eager attention.
“Fifty-two million,” I whisper before I can silence myself.
“What?” Dylan asks as he opens the passenger door for me.
“Nothing.” I just want to forget about my whispering number habit.
“I love when you do that. It’s cute.”
“I didn’t know you noticed.”
“You’ve always done that.” He winks.
