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“Does the contract give you that right?”
“No, but I’m going to take it.”
“I love it when you talk tough.” She giggled. She had to restrain the impulse to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, but she managed to walk away with a brisk stride as though work were her only concern.
Indeed, that was all she wanted on her mind for the next few days. There was a chance her life had already been irrevocably changed. But there was also the chance it hadn’t. All she had to do was survive the next few days without suffocating on anxiety, and then she would deal with whatever future her passion for Luke had created.
She crossed the street to Toby’s followed by Sheila and Frankie, who carried the water. She directed them to place the bottles in the shade at the side of the house, then had to move quickly to avoid colliding with Toby, who had snuck up behind her.
When he dipped beneath the brim of her hat to kiss her cheek, it was abundantly clear Luke’s efforts to restrain the amorous artist had met with failure. She conjured up her most evil stare and fixed him with it.
“I’m looking forward to painting the mural, but that’s the extent of my interest here, Mr. McClure.”
Toby responded with a smart salute. “Aye, aye, Captain. We’re almost finished with the base coat. When it’s dry, we’ll draw in the grid.” He handed her a copy of Rafael’s drawing with the grid superimposed. “Dave did that on the computer, and it should be pretty easy to follow.”
“Let’s hope so. Other than to make certain we have the necessary supplies, I plan to stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Hey, come on. You’re more than welcome in mine.” He spread his hands wide and swept her with a suggestive gaze.
It was still early, but Toby had exhausted the last shred of Catherine’s patience and, desperate to be rid of him, she seized upon the perfect threat. “Do you ever watch the WWE?” she asked.
Surprised by her question, Toby laughed before he replied. “Maybe once, why?”
“Because my boyfriend is one of the stars.” She was surprised she hadn’t thought of the WWE sooner. After all, the heavily muscled wrestlers were huge, and she assumed they must have some kind of professional tour; at least her sweetheart would.
Stunned by that news, Toby’s mouth fell agape. “My God, which guy is he?”
Catherine savored his fright for a long, delicious moment. “Believe me, you don’t want to know. Now I need to take some photographs to document the initial stages of the work. I’m sure you’ll excuse me.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll be around if you need me.”
During the rest of the morning, Toby occasionally regarded her with a skeptical stare, but he kept a respectful distance, for which she was most grateful. At noon, the whole crew trooped back to the center for lunch, and Dave hurried to her side.
“What’s with the guy from the WWE?” he whispered.
“Hush,” Catherine ordered. “The story worked well, and don’t you dare tell Toby otherwise.”
“I don’t need any competition, so you have my word on it.”
He began to whistle happily, and Catherine wished she could think of something as menacing as the WWE to use on him.
Luke arrived at Catherine’s that night carrying a half gallon of lime sherbet and a two liter bottle of grapefruit soda. “Come on, let’s make some floats, sit out on the deck and watch the moon rise.”
It sounded like the perfect evening, and Catherine quickly provided tall glasses and iced tea spoons. She even found some fluorescent straws. As soon as they were seated outside, she took a long sip.
“I keep telling you not to bring me presents, but when they’re this delicious, I’ll make an exception.”
“The orchid was a present; refreshments don’t count, but while you’re moaning so contentedly, let me congratulate you on your close contact with the WWE.”
“Dave told you?”
“He sure did. He was so happy you’d found a way to discourage Toby that he could barely contain himself. I’m sorry Toby didn’t take my complaint more seriously, but apparently you handled him well enough on your own. I don’t want Dave to be your problem now though. You’ve inspired him to apply for work elsewhere, but—”
“But what? Don’t you want him to get back on his feet?”
“Yes, of course, but not until he can handle the pressure.” Luke took several sips of his frosty drink as he searched for the means to make her understand.
“I won’t violate Dave’s trust, but just let me say he’s got to put himself back together before he can tackle the world again. Lost Angel is the perfect haven for him, and he does more work than I would have imagined he’d tackle, but please be careful not to be anything more than a friend.”
