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“Whoa!” he said.
He grabbed my shoulders, trying to avoid a collision. This guy was dirty and smelly, in fisherman gear, a garbage bag in his hand.
I flinched on his impact—on the feel of his hands on me—and my things went flying all around him, my laptop hitting the floor with a crack.
I bent down and started picking everything up.
He looked down at me, like he was trying not to laugh. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
I looked up at him. “Don’t you knock?” I said.
“Is that protocol where you’re from?” he said. “If I’m the one with a key?”
He got down on the ground and started helping me corral my things—his hands on my folded underwear, his hands on my lipstick.
“Hope you didn’t have a
nything too valuable in here,” he said.
“You know, just everything I own,” I said.
He picked up my computer, a crack running down the front. “Owned may be more accurate,” he said.
I looked at him, his water bib undone, his suspenders by his waist. He was so dirty that you could almost miss that he was also pretty good-looking, in a burly kind of way. All muscles, with these clear blue eyes, smile glowing.
“So you did show up,” he said. “I thought you would.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I believe someone owes me a hundred bucks.”
“You would have to be Thomas?”
“I don’t know that I would have to be,” he said.
I wasn’t in the mood for this guy, who was so obviously charmed by himself. I didn’t want to pretend I was interested in having anything like a relationship with my sister’s boyfriend, let alone with my sister herself.
He stood up, and I followed suit, my clothes stuffed back in my bag. He pointed toward the bedroom. “I’m just here grabbing a few things,” he said.
“Well, Rain is at work—”
“I know where Rain is.”
“So does she know that you’re here grabbing a few things?”
I couldn’t read his look. “You’re asking a lot of questions, considering I’m the one with the key,” he said.
“It was one question, actually. And you know what? I don’t care, I’m leaving.”
“Are you going through Sag on your way out of here?” he said.
“No, why?”
He smiled, dirty and mean. “No reason. There’s just a little billboard. For all the new Food Network shows.”
I closed my eyes, taking a breath in. “Great, so everyone is going to recognize me.”
“Well, you’re more like the corner of the billboard,” he said. “And, no offense, you look a lot better in the billboard version of yourself than you do in person, so . . .”
