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I scrunch up my face. “Do I have to? It sounds boring.”
He nods. “Please. It would be really great. You don’t have to work, right?”
I shake my head slowly. I knew there would be obligations. I might as well get used to them. “No, you’re right. I’ll come.”
His face brightens. “Great. Oh, and I’ve got something for you. Be right back.”
I watch him jog to his office, his muscled butt under his clingy sweats a work of art. I force myself to look away. It would not do to be attracted to this guy. Talk about making things more complicated than they already are.
Although, the attraction thing? I just might be a little late to start resisting it.
He returns, holding a jersey that’s big enough to hold two or three of me. He’s beaming and turns it back and forth so I can see both sides.
It’s ugly.
“Thank you, Rake. I already have a lot of clothes, though.”
He frowns. “This isn’t just any shirt, Petal. It’s a team jersey. It would be nice to wear it to the rink.”
“For me to wear to the rink? Or for you to wear?”
I never considered wardrobe requirements. I’m picky about my clothes. And I don’t wear team jerseys.
He sits down and reaches across the table for my hand. I have to give him credit for being so nice. He’s really trying. Of course, he has a lot to gain and everything to lose. “All the significant others wear these shirts. I know it’s not the most fashionable thing, but if you could at least wear it once in a while, I’d appreciate it.”
I reach across the table. “Let me have it.”
He passes it to me, and I pull it on over all my clothes. “Look how big this is. It’s ridiculous.”
The disappointment that crosses his face just about kills me.
I whip it off and place it on the chair next to me. “Okay, okay. I’ll wear it when I come to the game. But I’m letting you knowahead of time, I’ll be bringing a book. You know, in case I get bored.”
He opens his mouth to say something but stops like he knows better. “Fine. One victory at a time.” He takes my plate from the table and disappears into the kitchen.
I hear the water running and the dishwasher being loaded, so I head to my room and crack open a book.
Next morning, by the time I get up, Rake is gone. Betty’s here, though, so I have my fingers crossed she’s made me a breakfast.
“Good morning, Miss Petal,” she says.
“Good morning, Betty. What are you up to?” I ask looking around.
There’s no food out, so I pour myself a bowl of cereal.
“It’s laundry day,” she says, putting a basket of Rake’s clothes up on the counter. She starts buttoning buttons and zipping zippers. Then she goes through his pockets.
I’ve never seen anyone so fastidious about laundry.
“What’s this?” she says to herself, pulling a slip of paper out of a pair of his jeans.
She studies it, then passes it to me. “Does this look like anything important, Miss Petal? I usually save the things Mr. Rake leaves in his pockets, but maybe you can help with this.”
I take what looks like a receipt from her and flip it over. Sure enough, there’s a scribble on the back of it.
Unfortunately, it saysAshley, followed by a local phone number.
Something hits my stomach, and it doesn’t feel good.
