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You, actually. Naked, maybe a little flustered with red in your cheeks. Walking backwards until you bump into the bed and realize you’re about to let it happen. “I was thinking last night about how we could solve our problem,” I said. Most people didn’t understand that conversation and negotiation were an art form. I liked to think of it like a car with two steering wheels. How do you make sure the car ends up where you want to go if the other person has a wheel, too? Cut the wires before they get in the car and let them think they still have control. Change the subject to something attention-grabbing enough that they’ll be too taken off guard to realize you’re doing it on purpose. Keep them off balance.
“Don’t change the subject,” Elizabeth snapped. “I asked you a question.”
Well, then. Apparently, some people were slightly resistant to my methods. It looked like I was going to need to dig deep into the tool bag for this woman. Time for the smokescreen approach. “And I stated a statement. Do you find it helpful if we clarify the purpose of our sentences after we speak them? That was a question,” I added with a conspiratorial little smile.
She folded her arms. “Does this usually work for you?” She made a vague gesture, as if she wasn’t just talking about our conversation but was including the entire package.
“It does, actually,” I said. “But I have to say, things are a lot more interesting when it doesn’t.”
“Let’s skip to the chase, because I don’t have time for this. What do you want?”
“You,” I said, and the little pulse of excitement in my gut told me I wasn’t just bullshitting. I didn’t know if it was her disinterest, but something had me practically rabid for just a little nibble of this one.
I knew she was about to slam the door on me again—predictable—but I slid my foot just inside the frame. The bottom of the door smashed into my foot and bounced back.
“Did you just slam your door on my foot?” I asked. It actually hurt more than I’d expected. It took heroic effort, but I kept my face calm. I could do the one-legged hop while wincing and grabbing my foot when I was safely in the elevator.
“Get your foot out of my apartment.”
“Let me buy you dinner tonight.”
“I’m not going to dinner with you.”
“You’re right. Dinner is moving things along too quickly. We should take our time. Ease into this. I’ll take you to lunch tomorrow. I know the perfect place.”
“I don’t want to eat anything with you. I want your foot out of my apartment. I want you out of my doorway. And I want you and your crazy pets to keep it down so I can actually get my work done.”
Her eyes fluttered and her chin lifted. She brought her hand to her face and sneezed three times in a row. Each one sounded like a mouse getting stepped on.
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s really how you sneeze?”
“Out!” She pushed the door against my foot so I had to lean to get my face in the crack between the door and the frame. “Wear something more casual tomorrow. Okay?”
She struggled wordlessly with the door, then resorted to a barrage of small, unimpressive kicks against my shoe. Each one moved my foot back fractions of an inch.
“Lunch tomorrow and we’ll be quiet as ghosts for the rest of today. Do we have a deal?”
She stopped kicking and pulled the door open enough for me to see her face again. It was a pretty face, but it was like seeing a nice car with a spoiler and a lift kit. Here, the “spoiler” was her frown. The “lift kit” was that high and mighty, too busy to give you the time of day, never once laughed so hard she snorted vibe she had.
One good belly laugh was all it’d take, I reckoned. And if that didn’t work, maybe a little romp in the sheets. But damn if I didn’t want a chance to play Mr. Fix It. I had the perfect tool bag full of tricks ready to go if she’d just give me a chance.
Elizabeth was still staring at me. She seemed to be considering my offer like I’d just asked which family member she’d be willing to sacrifice first. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t expect me to be good company.”
I chuckled. “Oh don’t worry about that. I’ll handle the good company. You just bring yourself. In something more casual.” I reached out and brushed a fold from the sleeve of her shirt. She flinched back as if I’d just tried to smear ketchup on her nose.
Her perfectly round nostrils flared, and for a moment, I thought she was going to change her mind. That was when I slid my foot out of her apartment with a quiet little swoosh. A fraction of a second later, she slammed the door.
