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“That makes sense,” Evan says and stuffs a large piece of sashimi into his mouth. As he chews, his expression grows calmer. Once he swallows, he asks, “Did you refuse my offer to take you places because you thought that I was asking you on a date? Because I wasn’t. Unlike Vic, I never date tourists.”
How flattering. “I refused for the exact reason I stated. I don’t want to impose on your time. That’s all.” I don’t even bother explaining that if he did deign to break his “no-tourists” rule, I’d say no anyway.
“Fine.” His features soften. “How bad is your sunburn?”
I shrug, which ironically causes pain. “It’s not fun.”
“I’ll make you my grandfather’s sunburn poultice,” he states. “It performs miracles.”
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’ve got Advil in the car. It will suffice.”
“Is this the imposition business again?”
I stuff fish into my mouth to avoid replying.
Evan jumps to his feet. “I’m feeling a little sunburned myself,” he says to no one in particular. “Excuse me while I make some poultice for myself.”
Before I can object, he grabs a blender and rummages in his fridge and pantry.
Is that honey he’s putting into the cup? Baking soda? Apple cider vinegar?
“Are you sure that’s a poultice that you’re making? And not, say, a cake?”
Ignoring my question, he walks over to an aloe plant that’s sitting on a windowsill and clips a piece of it.
“Okay,” I say. “That one makes sense.”
He keeps adding ingredients: yogurt from the fridge, some dry leaves from a bag that says “Chamomile,” and something green that—given his love of all things Japanese—is probably matcha.
“I’m going to taste delicious,” I say without thinking. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wince and pray that Evan either didn’t hear me or doesn’t have as dirty of a mind as I do.
Crap.
He halts his work and gives me an evaluating stare.
Or is it a hungry stare?
I guess he did hear?
Before I can decide, he goes back to his poultice making.
With her human distracted, Sally jumps onto the table and pointedly meows at me.
“Here.” I give her a piece of sashimi.
She licks it and takes a dainty bite.
I feel a wet nose poking my calf. Glancing down at Harry, I give him a piece as well, which he devours like it’s his last meal.
I join the fur kids in eating and soon realize I’m getting full. With a satisfied smile, I put down my chopsticks.
Shit. Smiling hurts the creases in my face, and moving my arms hurts the skin in the crook of my elbow.
Maybe I do need this poultice on top of the Advil. The pain is getting worse.
On the plus side, the cramps have eased, or it seems like they have in comparison to the misery my skin is experiencing.
A deafening roar erupts. It’s the blender. The sound makes it hard to focus on anything for the next few seconds. When it’s over, Evan ladles the finished product into a jar and carries it to me. “Do you want me to help you apply it?”
