I grab the orange juice and peel away the cap. “What are you up to today?”
“Online meeting this morning with an advertiser.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s not. It’s like listening to Charlie Brown’s teacher talk for an hour. Mwa, mwa-mwa. Mwa-mwa.” He drags me forward and into his arms. “I can’t wait for this day to be over.”
“Why do you do it then? This thing that you fund with ads…”
When I say ‘this thing’, I wait for him to give me that tiny nugget of disclosure.
“Bills. Ambition. Freedom. It’s OK until I get my novels published.” He shrugs. “But you,” he says, changing the subject, “need to go work for the man. I’ll be here when you get back.” He swats me on the behind and heads out the door.
I know it’s unfair to expect total disclosure about everything in his life, but I need his dirty laundry exposed before I can lay out mine. Then I’ll know how much I need to tone mine down.
I can make myself sound more misled than plain stupid. Right?
At Le Frou Frous Pooch Hotel, I meet the manager, Tom, who instructs me on my duties. He’s a young guy, probably younger than I am. He drags his fingers across his too long bangs as he talks to all the dogs like they’re people.
“Want to go for a walk with Ms. Harper?” he says to a sheepdog name Louis. “All right then. Be easy on her. Don’t pull on the lead.”
All the tasks are more fun than work and I smile all morning as I walk dogs and generally play harder than I have in years.
When he gives me an hour for lunch, I leave and head to Dastardly’s, where I’m supposed to meet Josie.
She’s seated at the bar, so I join her. The place is packed and Dane is serving tables along with his waitstaff.
“Hi,” I say, positioning myself on the wood stool. She’s already ordered her food and the pasta smells heavenly. I’m starved after all the energy I’ve used with the dogs.
“Hey yourself.” Josie cocks an eyebrow and grins. She continues to chew a bite of pasta while keeping eye contact.
“What?”
“Oh, don’t play coy with me. I’ve talked to my brother.” She bumps her elbow against mine.
“I’m not,” I say and take the one-sheet paper menu that Dane flicks in my direction.
“Tell me everything. Well, not everything. Some details would be too weird. But you and Leo? I knew this was going to happen.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re his type. I’m so glad for him to be rid of Tori the witch.”
“You liked her that much, huh?”
Josie suddenly frowns. “I’m not sure of how much I should say about their thing. I wouldn’t want to share stuff Leo hasn’t told you. But I hate that woman.”
“I met her.”
Josie stabs a bite of her pasta and swings her dark hair to one side. She raises her eyebrows. “Oh? How’d that happen? I was hoping she’d moved, since I haven’t run into her in a while.”
“We went to breakfast on Saturday morning and bumped into her. Then she came by his apartment later.”
She drops her fork. It clangs onto the concrete floor of Dastardly’s, but she doesn’t bother to retrieve it. “Shit. No way.”
I nod. “She…um…seemed upset, but Leo said it wasn’t important.” Her reaction unsettles me. “Take my fork,” I say, unwrapping the rolled napkin that someone placed in front of me at some point.
“Forget about the fork.” Josie looks like she’s about to explode.
“It’s OK. He was a little upset afterward, but I think he’s fine now.”
“Do not let that woman near him. Do you hear?” Josie’s mouth tightens. “You have no idea, no idea at all, what a lying, conniving piece of work she is. She almost broke him. I swear I told her I’d run her over in my car if she dared to step foot near his place.” She pushes her plate away.
And I thought I might need anger management. “What did she do?” I can’t help but ask.
Josie’s lost in her own world and it’s not a happy place. She’s staring at the bottles of booze lining the wall of the bar as if she’d like target practice on them.
“Josie?”
“Oh. Leo needs to tell you. Not me. I know it’s not fair since we’re friends, but he’s my brother. He would kill me if I went around blabbing his history with her.”
“I understand.”
“Maybe we can pool our money together and pay a cheap hitman.” She cuts her eyes toward me with a calculated look.
“You aren’t serious.”
“No. If I take out a hit, I won’t tell you. It’ll be on the down low with no accomplices. You can rest easy.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember to never make you mad.”
Josie looks at the menu I’m holding and points to the waitress behind the bar. The girl moves to stand in front of me.
“You guys need to hire some help,” Josie says to her.
“What can I get you?” The girl ignores Josie and asks me.
“Club sandwich and Diet Coke. Thanks.” I smile at the girl and turn to Josie.
Josie leans in. “I was sort of kidding about the hitman. But don’t put up with Tori hanging around. She’s trouble.”
Dane comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulder. “Hey sugar.”
“Hi.” I look back at him.
“Josie,” he says. “You teaching Harper all your bad habits?”
“Every single one.” She grins at him.
“Dane! A little help?” The girl tending bar calls to him.
He shakes his head. “Always a crisis. Catch you girls later.” Dane hurries away to the kitchen.
The rest of lunch goes by quickly, with Josie telling me stories of her bookstore customers and talking about a band she wants to see in concert. Even though I attempt to concentrate on the conversation, I can’t help but worry about her reaction to the subject of Tori.
I can’t understand Leo if I don’t know what he’s been through. The fact that he’s not telling me things is so familiar. Wesley never told me anything—what he liked, didn’t like, where he went. His past.
Leo has a fascinating way of working on his novel. He types frantically for at least five minutes. Then he pauses and sits back for thirty seconds with his hands touching the keys of his laptop. His fingertips move in a caress over the keyboard as he stares straight ahead. Then frantic typing again. It’s like his brain cycles in five-minute runs until he deposits all the words into the computer.
He rolls his head from side to side and sits back in the chair, then twirls it around to face me. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. Why?”
“You’ve been very quiet.”
“Watching the movie.” I point at the television with a lazy finger and tuck my feet underneath me on the sofa.
He stands and strolls across the room, eyeing me tiger-like and grinning. “I need a break.”
“Pretend I’m not here. Would you still be stopping your work?”
“But you are here.” He sits beside me on the sofa and takes my hand, kissing each knuckle with his soft lips and a smile.
Using my free hand, I reach across and move the piece of hair that’s fallen over his eyes. He catches my wrist and smells it. Literally puts his nose to the skin and inhales. “I have no clue what you are made of, but whatever it is, the smell makes me ravenous.”
“Scented lotion,” I mutter, hypnotized. Sitting this close, I can’t do more than concentrate on the perfect parts of his face and the imperfect parts I love even more. His crooked smile, something I thought he affected, but is all charming him. The wide mouth with lips that draw the eye.
His beautiful blue eyes. Some girls would call them ocean-colored or sapphire. To me, they’re heaven-blue.
“Nah. It’s pure you. I’m positive,” he says.
“What is?” I’ve lost the thread of our conversation. Concentrate.
My stomach makes a low rumbling protest. Getting home at the end of the day after working with dogs, I needed an immediate shower and then headed straight to Leo’s. I’d forgotten about dinner.