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Because, Lord knows, that’s all I’m ever going to think of when I look at him now.
I need the exact opposite of going down to see him. I need to put some distance between us.
At least if I don’t have to look at him and suffer him flirtily flashing his forearms at me at every available opportunity, I might be able to get through this passing phase of wanting to jump on him.
And a passing phase is all this can be. If I ride it out and get over the hump, everything will go back to good old not-wanting-to-jump-on-Elliot normal.
Ride. Hump.
Jesus, Charlotte. Get a fucking grip.
“You know what, Elliot.” I fix my eyes on the middle kid concentrating so hard on the sheet music as he puffs into his clarinet. “I think the only way I’ll feel fully in control and sure I can bring this in on time is if I’m there on the ground. I think I need to go.” That’s certainly distance.
He says nothing.
“Would that be okay?” I prompt him. “Do you have a budget for that?”
“Oh yes, yes,” he says. “I mean, it’s not in the nonprofit budget, but I can make it happen. No trouble at all.”
“Great. I’d feel so much happier if I could see the damage and meet the construction crew myself.” And have more than two floors separating me from him.
“Excellent idea. And you know what?” He pauses again. “I’ll come with you.”
Hell, no.
That can’t happen.
That’s the exact opposite of what needs to happen.
I need to put a plane flight between us. Not be in a situation where I have to be around him all the time for a full twenty-four hours.
My armpits are suddenly unattractively sweaty. Not that I’ve ever encountered any attractive sweaty armpits. But I bet Elliot’s, fresh from the gym, might qualify. “I’m sure you’re very busy. You’re pretty much doing Owen’s job as well as your own right now. And you do have the all-important presentation to work on.”
“It’s almost written. And I have someone in marketing making some slick graphics for me.” Well, damn him for being so organized. “Everything else is either under control or can wait. This is the most urgent thing on my agenda. And I think your idea to go out there is an excellent one.”
“Thanks. But I should go for you. So you don’t have to go. I can send you pictures. And a video walk-through. I’m your assistant in this, after all. I should be taking things off your plate.”
That kid in the middle is working so much harder than the others on either side of him. The clarinet looks like it comes easy to them.
“But I actually want to go,” Elliot says, sounding a little put out. “I want to see how bad the damage is and how we’re going to pull it together. Like you keep telling me, it’s my passion project.”
Good God, Elliot. Take a hint. Stay here. “I understand that, but?—”
“So go ahead and book flights for us for this evening. And two hotel rooms.”
The three little musicians across the street finish playing, and the middle boy holds his clarinet in the air in victory.
I rest my forearms on the windowsill and drop my head in defeat.
13
CHARLOTTE
“T
here’s no point going to check out the hub this late,” Elliot says as we finally stand to disembark the plane.
There’d been multiple delays in taking off from LaGuardia, and then we’d circled the South Bend airport for an eternity before they finally let us land. It’s already eleven-thirty, and we still have a ninety-minute drive to get to Plainsville.
