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“No, I am not. Even my headache has subsided now.” She put her glasses on the desk with more concentration than was needed. “Please don’t call me Angel. It’s a weird nickname that only a few people still call me. Most people don’t remember it.”
“Just Mia and Rafferty?” he asked. Why was he pushing? Why was he jealous that Rafferty had a nickname for her?
“Mostly just people who graduated around me. And my mother; I don’t think she even remembers my real name. She’s called me that since I was born.” There was no humor in her words.
“Ruth it is then,” Anderson said and opened his container. Nothing was written in it, which was a little disappointing.
“Do you have a weird nickname that I can call you if you ever slip up?” she asked as she started to eat. Hers was meatloaf today. He could smell it from where he sat. It smelled good.
“Andy is about it, though that’s not weird. It’s just my name,” he said, taking out his sandwich. He had wanted a change, but it looked the same as always, perfect.
“A change, Andy?” She noticed he had just gotten the same thing he always ordered and laughed, “Andy makes it sound like you are a little kid.”
“But not weird.” He smiled at her reaction to the name almost everyone back home called him. It was only here in Landstad that everyone called him Anderson, and probably because his personal assistant did. In the beginning, he thought about correcting people but didn’t think he would be there that long, so he didn’t bother.
“I will stick with Anderson unless you are very naughty, then I will go with Anderson Miles. What’s your middle name?” Ruth went back to eating her lunch.
The images flashing through his mind at her saying ‘naughty’ made him swallow hard. Those images were definitely not for in the office. And suddenly he was back to picturing her naked.
“Everett,” was all he could say as he turned his chair away from her view. She didn’t need to see how her words had affected him. Or what effect she was having on him today, period.
“That is a nice one.”
He tried to get his mind under control. “What’s yours?”
“My what?” she asked as if she hadn’t been a part of the conversation.
“Your middle name?”
“Oh, yeah. Ruth.” She waved her fork in the air at the answer.
“So, Ruth Ruth?” he smirked.
“Oh, sorry, Mary Ruth. All good Catholics name their kids Mary. Mary Ruth Johnson Kennedy.” She closed her empty container and threw it in the garbage beside her desk. Same as every day.
“Two last names? Divorced?” He had never heard that she had married, but then again, he knew very little about her up until yesterday.
“No, never married. My mom had me add her husband’s name when she got married. I was fourteen and didn’t care. Now I think I would have skipped that and just stuck with Johnson. Too late now.” She shrugged and turned away from him to look at her computer.
After finishing his sandwich, he threw away his box and said, “Thank you for the fun conversation over lunch, Ruth.” He hated that it was over already.
“Anytime, Anderson. I am usually right here.” But she didn’t look at him as she said it, just at her computer. Then without looking away from the screen, she blindly grabbed for her glasses until she found them and put them on without looking away from the screen. Her other hand was typing at the same time.
Turning back to his work, he couldn’t concentrate on the paper in front of him. Just like this morning, his mind was on the woman in the front of the office staring at her computer screen. And she was naked in those images, except those glasses had now become a focal point of the scene.
