Oh, but the pleasure and fun they could have before the disaster hit.
And just like after a hurricane moved on, cleaning up her life would take far longer to overcome and cost a fortune. No thanks.
She focused on her computer screen and her upcoming speech. When Carly took over as director, she knew public speaking and fundraising would be difficult for her, but she’d insisted as a smart woman, she could learn whatever skills needed. Wrong. If anything, the more workshops she attended, the more books she read, the worse her presentation and nerves became.
She’d tried all the tips, but nothing helped. Using the imagine your audience naked and imagining seventy-plus-year-old men in tighty-whities and boxers during her VFW speech left her traumatized for a week. The memory set off another wave of nerves, churning up her breakfast of cereal with milk, making her feel as if the milk had curdled in her stomach. She reached into her bottom desk drawer for a box of saltines. The plastic wrap crinkled in the still office as she pulled out a cracker to nibble on.
After finishing the saltine, she washed it down with sips of water, hoping to settle her stomach and read through her presentation again. “This would make a great bedtime story because it’ll sure put everyone to sleep.”
She believed in the agency’s mission, knew they changed lives for the better, and yet, her presentations failed to convey her passion.
The office door hinges creaked open. Expecting her assistant, without looking from her computer screen, Carly said, “Morning, Holly. Before you get settled, would you get the WD-40 to fix the squeaky door? Otherwise, it’ll drive us crazy before noon.”
“Tell me where it is, and I’m happy to help.”
Owen’s husky voice flowed over Carly as her gaze flew to the doorway where he stood proud and looking way too tempting in tight jeans, a faded maroon A&M T-shirt, and cowboy hat. Tingles raced along her arms making her want to rub away the sensations dancing over her skin.
No. It wasn’t attraction causing her warm fuzzy feelings. It was irritation over him ignoring her comments to stop popping into the office. Those emotions caused similar physical responses, right?
Nope. Her theory wouldn’t pass the smell test even if she wore a gas mask.
“Owen, you have to stop coming here when you’re not on the schedule.”
“Damn,” Owen said as he shuffled across her office and plopped down in the chair in front of her desk. “Five minutes after I left home, I couldn’t remember where I was going. With physical, speech, and equine therapy I figured this was the most likely place. Guess I was wrong.”
“I thought you’d started writing notes to jog your memory.”
“Before I joined Dad in the car, I wrote my destination on a Post-it and stuck it on my phone But the wind sent the blasted note flying. I chased after the damn thing, but a blue jay swooped down and took it. I hope the bird gets a paper cut on its ass from putting it in its nest.”
She tried to hold in her snicker over his anger at the poor bird, but failed, and laughter bubbled from her. The realization she’d missed being with a man who could make her laugh, particularly this man, bolted through her. That sobering thought killed her amusement. “If a gust of wind destroys your reminder system that’s a big flaw. And why did you use a Post-it rather than put the note in your phone?”
“I’m hoping I can drive again soon. Then the problem with using my phone is I can’t check it while driving. I’d hate to end up as an example the Service High teachers use to warn kids about being distracted by their phones.”
“Do what everyone else does. Check it at a stop light.”
“I could if I hit one of thethreein town.”
“Actually, there’s only two.” Her smile faded. How had he come in and gotten her to crawl down some bizarre rabbit hole with him. Not that the trip hadn’t been fun, but her actions only reinforced his bad behavior the way playing with a puppy did when he jumped on someone to get attention. She resisted the urge to reach for another cracker. “This has to stop, Owen.”
Instead of leaving as she hoped, Owen swiped at his phone. “Here’s the info. Huh. Turns out I was headed here. I wanted to talk about going bowling with Caleb, a couple other high school buddies, and their wives. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
She stared at him. Had she been too subtle? People with traumatic brain injuries often failed to pick up on social clues. “I can’t talk now. I’m speaking at the county retired teachers’ monthly meeting today, and unless I want everyone dying from boredom, I need to revamp my presentation.”
“Your talks can’t be that bad.”
She ignored his comment. “If you have concerns about going bowling, read the article I gave you with the social skills survival tips. That should help you decide what to do. But you need to leave.” Then she returned her attention to her computer screen as she searched through photos on the share drive.
“I read the article and wrote down my questions in my phone.”
“Those you could write down in your phone?” Her right hand squeezed the mouse so tight her knuckles cracked. If only he’d written those on a Post-it. Then maybe they’d reside with the mischievous blue jay and couldn’t cause her trouble.
“I don’t need to hit a stoplight to check those.”
“I don’t know how to argue with that logic.”
“Because it’s right.” She rolled her eyes, but with his gaze locked on his phone, he missed it. “The article said if I don’t want to go, I should be honest, but that’ll bring up questions I don’t want to answer.”
“I did say I couldn’t talk, and you needed to leave, didn’t I? The words actually came from my mouth, right? I didn’t imagine them?”
