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Silence, then Helena asks, “What is he doing there? Doesn’t he work?”
I sulk at her tone. “I work, thank you very much. I’m doing a delivery right now.”
At least she has the grace to sound apologetic. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
While I have her on the phone, I need to ask her to check Whit’s schedule for me, so I can come have a chat to him. “Hey, cupcake, you’re at the center, right?”
Her response is suspicious and drawn out. “Yeah. Why?”
“I need you to check Whit’s schedule for me.”
Confusion lines her voice. “I don’t have it.”
Having been at the center about a thousand times, I’m familiar with the surroundings. Very familiar. “That’s cool. You need to…wait. Where are you right now?”
“I’m in the admin lunchroom.”
I nod. I know where that is. “Okay, you need to head out of there, then turn right. Once you reach a wall of photographs, you keep going forward ‘til you reach the children’s playroom. You’ll see a giant whiteboard with everyone’s schedules on it. I need you to tell me if Whit has any time-blocks free.”
She utters an amused, “There are photos of Ceecee on here.”
I smile. “I know. Look for the one where she’s a pilot.”
Helena laughs softly. “Turning her chair into a plane…” She utters an awe-filled, “Genius.” A pause, then, “God, she’s grown.”
“I know. Like a mushroom.”
I hear the sounds of footsteps echo through the phone. “Okay, I’m almost there. Ah, yes! I see it.”
“Is he free today?”
“He’s got one pm free and two pm free.”
Cool. “Take a marker and put me in at two pm, will ya?”
Rustling, then, “Done. You’re booked in.”
“Thanks, cupcake.”
She responds quietly, “You’re welcome, Max.”
And that’s my cue to leave. “Okay. I’m out of here. Take it easy, ladies.”
As I walk away, they call out in unison, “Bye!”
Chapter Thirteen
Helena
I hate myself for watching the clock. Two pm is getting closer and closer, and I’m having real problems with my reaction to seeing Max. More specifically, to my wanting to see Max. It’s one fifty-three and the tummy flutters have started. I bounce my knee and tap my pen on the desk. Actually, I don’t have my own office right now, so really, I bounce the pen off James’ desk. He looks up from his paperwork and down at the pen, raises a brow, and looks up at me.
I drop the pen with a noisy clatter and whisper, “Sorry.”
I’ll be shadowing my boss for the next few days. I’ve already met the three other PTs on regular rotation. The only other man on the team is a guy named Kerr. He’s not very tall, but super muscular. He almost looks as if he’s a popped kernel of corn with all his bulging muscles. He’s got dark hair and eyes to match, and he’s so very gay.
How do I know this? I know this, because when Felicity—the token blonde bombshell of our team, with Restylane lips and the body of a salsa dancer—bent over to stretch, he did not look at her perfectly toned ass.
I know what you’re going to say: that means nothing. Right?
