Silver City Girl

by Yvonne Beattie

  I must have been in the bath for about an hour. The water was cold by the time I stepped out, and my fingers and toes were suitably soggy and wrinkly. I spent the rest of the afternoon sorting out my room, catching up on personal emails and laundry, I painted my nails a deep pink with glitter through it (happy nails), and curled up on the sofa for a couple of hours reading my book.

  Chapter 8

  Susie went out early as she was meeting her mum for dinner before the theatre, so I put on some spaghetti for my dinner. My favourite comfort food of all time. I didn’t get the chance to ask her about our living arrangements, but plan to tomorrow, after I’ve had the chance to look at what is available on the leasing market. An unwelcome lurch hits the pit of my stomach as I think about having to move out, I love it here so much, but I don’t suppose it was meant to last forever. I just wish Arnie had told me he was selling the property so I could have better prepared myself. He must have his reasons though as he would never leave me in total disarray. I just know he wouldn’t.

  I pour myself a glass of sauvignon blanc, put on some music, and shimmy to the window dancing to myself. I take a moment to look out at the river before I start making my pasta sauce, when the doorbell starts its pathetic rendition of the Can Can. I swear I’m going to rip that thing out in the very near future.

  Susie must have forgotten her key as no one buzzed the intercom for me to let them into the building. She must have keyed in the code to open the door downstairs. I place my glass of wine on the kitchen counter and go to the door to check the peep hole.

  It’s not Susie, it's Jack.

  I immediately duck down from the peep hole and panic, what the heck does he want now? I’m all for being neighbourly and all that, but twice in one day? I quickly decide to just pretend I'm not in. I flatten myself against the wall beside the door and hold my breath, for posterity I realise, seeing as he obviously can’t see nor hear me.

  The Can Can sings again as he rings the door bell a second time and I hear him clear his throat, "Jennifer, it's just me, Jack. I saw you look through the peep hole. I told you earlier, I'm not going to bite you," he sounds like he is smiling.

  Bugger, I feel a smile creep its way across my face and shake my head in disbelief. I’ve actually come out in a cold sweat.

  I quickly count to ten to calm my nerves then go to open the door.

  "Hey Jack, sorry, I was just…umm, sorting something." Please, don't ask me what. "Umm, what can I do for you?" I try to act cool.

  He is standing in the doorway leaning against the doorframe appearing relaxed and smiling, "Well, you said you were home alone tonight, and my dinner was cancelled, so I thought I'd pop down and see if you fancied a glass of wine and some company? Save us both being lonely. Going on the assumption you like wine, and company, I know you said you were having a quiet one," he looks at me earnestly.

  His whole demeanor is very casual, laid back and sexy as hell. I’m truly in trouble here. I wish so much he wasn't my boss. I also wish I could mirror his demeanor.

  "Oh, well," I really don't know what to say. I want him to join me more than anything, but at the same time, I can’t stand the jittering idiot I seem to become around him.

  "I see you're a step ahead of me," I follow his gaze to my already filled glass of wine sitting on the kitchen counter.

  I smile and relax my stance a little, sighing inwardly, "Yes, I just poured myself a glass. I guess some company wouldn't hurt. Would you like a glass?"

  He pulls a bottle of wine out from behind his back and says, "Yes, I'd love one, Jennifer, thought you’d never ask!" He walks through the door and over to the kitchen breakfast bar where he places his bottle of wine down. “I’m glad I went with white,” he turns to look at me and I smile tentatively.

  I close the front door and get a glass for him, "Have you eaten? I just put on some pasta for myself. Not very exciting but I figured I was going solo tonight, so I was opting for the easy, yummy option. I do a mean carbonara."

  "No, I haven't eaten yet, I wasn't sure if you'd be up for a guest, but I thought I'd chance my luck. I thought I'd order food for us, but if you're offering up a home cooked meal, well hell, yeah, I'd love some," he grins. “As long as you’re sure,” he adds.

  “Of course,” I can’t help but smile back at him feeling excited that he is here now.

  Just as well spaghetti carbonara is my specialty. I feel like I need to impress him, I am still a bit worried about our whole work dynamic, but he is my boss and he invited himself here, not the other way around. The little devil on my shoulder does an evil laugh and I savour the moment.

  "So ya’ll have this place kitted out real nice," he says, as he wonders around openly. His drawl is to die for.

  "It's lovely isn't it," I have to agree. "Susie picked out everything when her dad bought the apartment a few years ago. She has great taste. A lot of our things are mixed through, but ultimately, it is her place." I realise I should maybe bring up the fact he now owns our apartment. "Actually, if Arnie has sold this apartment to you, how does that affect Susie and I living here?"

  He turns and looks at me, "It doesn't."

  "I don't understand," how can this not affect us?

  "Arnie and I signed a contract that although I now own the place, ya’ll can stay here for as long as you like, paying the already agreed rate," he explains.

  "Oh, I see. That can't be a good investment from your point of view?" I really don't want to be homeless, and I really don't want to move out of this place yet, but I blurt out my thought before my brain has fully caught up.

  He smiles, "This isn't about investment for me, Jennifer. It's about having a home away from home, and although I will rent out the other apartments that are currently vacant, there are still a few old tenants that I'm happy to keep based on Arnie's recommendations," he shrugs and walks towards me, then sits down at the breakfast bar. “Besides, it’s kinda nice having some eye candy downstairs.”

  My heart does a triple somersault, but I try to reign it in, “Oh, well, thanks, I think!”

  My boss, landlord, and now major crush are all sitting in my kitchen at the same time, surely this should be illegal. And, they’re all flirting with me! I choose to skim over his ‘eye candy’ reference as I know it is destined for embarrassment, but I am delighted, and I’m pretty sure he knows it.

  “Umm, did you know I lived here?” I basically blurt out.

  Jack looks up at me, surprised, and he takes a moment before he answers, “No. No, I didn’t. I knew that Arnie’s daughter lived here with a roommate, but I didn’t pay much attention to names, to be honest.”

  I feel glad about that, he seems sincere, and if I’m honest with myself, it makes this whole scenario a lot less creepy.

  "Is something burning?" He sniffs lifting his nose up slightly.

  "Oh, shoot," I run over and grab my burnt pan of spaghetti and rinse it in the sink. I must’ve jinxed it. "I guess I got sidetracked when you came in. I'll make a fresh batch for both of us. Would you mind opening that window before the firealarm gets a whiff of this?"

  “Good idea,” Jack laughs, and goes to open the window. I grab a new pan while letting the other one soak. I start boiling some new spaghetti and start on my carbonara sauce. It only takes a few minutes. I switch the oven on and grab a baguette Susie got earlier, she won’t mind, and I mix up some garlic butter. As I'm stirring in all the ingredients, I take a sip of my wine and realise I'm being watched intently.

  "What?" I ask, with a slight smile, feeling a bit self-conscious but meeting his gaze. I had thankfully, out of habit more than anything else, put on some mascara and lip gloss earlier on, but I am a very Plain Jane tonight which is making me feel slightly inferior. He always looks like he has literally just walked off of the catwalk.

  He carries on looking at me and smiles seductively, "Just enjoying the view."

  Oh my God, he is flirting with me.

  "Oh, is that so?" I smirk, without meaning to.

 
“Hmm,” I hear a low tremor come from within his throat, but I daren’t look at him again. As usual, my cheeks feel warm so I hurry along with dinner.

  I finally drain the spaghetti and serve everything up. He is still watching me but I try not to think about it as I am actually quite enjoying his eyes on me. I kind of feel liberated and attractive, sexy even. I may, or may not, be playing on it a little bit too.

  I grab my wine and take a large swig, "Do you want to sit at the dining table, the breakfast bar, on the floor, or on the sofa? I'd suggest the balcony, but it's Baltic outside," I ask him.

  "It's what? Baltic?" He laughs but questions me teasingly.

  I turn towards him, "Yeah, Baltic! As in cold?" Obviously.

  "I have never ever heard that expression! That is hilarious!" He laughs, "Baltic, as in the Baltic States, that's quite clever!"

  "What can I say!" I tease. He's now got me thinking about the expression, which I guess is local. I suppose it is funny. "Well anyway, where would you prefer to sit?"

  "Well that was a lot of choices," he deliberates seriously while pinching his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Why don't we sit right here at the breakfast bar. I like this. My place doesn't have this set up, I might need to remedy that. Though I think I like it better with you in my line of vision."

  "Oh! You're smooth, Jack Samson!" I don't know what to say other than make a joke of his forwardness. I don't want to read too much into it, but it’s hard not to. "I thought all these apartments were the same, to be honest I've never been in any of the others," I hand him his plate. "Here is your cutlery."

  He looks at my hand and laughs, "My what? What did you say?"

  I am positive I didn't say anything dumb, "I was just giving you your cutlery," I repeat, slightly curtly. Is he going to question everything I say? “Your fork and knife?”

  "Do you mean the silverware?" He is smiling ear to ear now.

  "Umm, I guess so. We just call it plain old cutlery though," I half smile back. It's quite cute that our language differences amuse him.

  "I can see that," he says. "I love your use of words, Jennifer. That accent of yours just kills me."

  "Oh, I'm sorry…" I start.

  "Do not be sorry," he chimes in, "you have the loveliest voice, Jennifer. It's like a song bird, so happy and light, your accent just happens to be a bonus."

  I can feel my neck getting warm, and I know my cheeks are heated, they seem to permanently be that way at the moment. I have no idea how to respond.

  "You have no idea how beautiful you are, Jennifer," he is leaning over the breakfast bar slightly. "I hate that I seem to make you nervous, I don't mean to, but I love when your cheeks go all pink like that, it's real cute."

  I take a short quick intake of breath. I have lost the ability to speak, again.

  "Let's eat, this smells awesome. Thank you so much for cooking for me. I know I basically invited myself turning up unannounced, I just wanted to spend some time with you if I'm being honest."

  I still can't talk. I manage a small smile and sip my wine, trying not to gulp it all. OK, so I take several large gulps and refill our glasses. Once I’ve found some Dutch Courage, I find my voice, “Well, it’s nice to spend the evening with you too, Jack.” And then I manage to add, “And the view from over here is also pretty good.”

  I can’t believe I just said that out loud, but as I glance up at the huge grin on his face from beneath my lashes, I’m glad I did. I watch as he then picks up his fork and spoon and expertly twirls some spaghetti onto his fork and into his beautiful mouth. I watch him chewing with those perfect teeth.

  “Hmm,” he moans, closing his eyes while chewing. He opens them and looks at me, "Eat sweetie, this truly is delicious," he tells me, and nods at my plate.

  I follow suit and eat as much as I can, which is not very much. I've got butterflies swarming my tummy, and a very warm feeling down below. It’s been so long since anything stirred down there, I feel giddy, and he just called me 'sweetie'. I can’t even think of the last time I had butterflies over a guy, I thought it was a lost sensation.

  We don't speak much while we eat. I'm thankful for that seeing as I appear to be challenged in my ability to do so in his presence. I can’t believe how much he is flirting with me, and he actually referred to me with an endearment. Maybe he calls everyone sweetie though, I hope not.

  I want to be his sweetie. I’ve decided, or maybe the wine decided for me. Who cares.

  Once we are done, we both sit quietly and drink our wine. My playlist is playing a mix of old and new songs, and a variety of genres. I usually select a genre to match my mood, but tonight I had just set it to random selection being that I felt chilled out and not in a specific mood for anything. Next, Rihanna's 'Only Girl' starts pumping out and as the words permeate the air, I have to move away. The lyrics pretty much exactly describe how I am feeling right now, which is ridiculous, I barely know him and he isn't just the hot guy from upstairs. He is my boss and also not forgetting my landlord. This wine has a lot to answer for. There is so much electricity running between us, I can almost see the spark. I don't want to do something stupid, but I feel like pouncing on him. I pick up my plate and start rinsing it, putting it into the dishwasher, when suddenly I feel him behind me. He gently lays his hand on my waist and I startle, then freeze. I'm sure he is going to leave an imprint as it feels so warm but he slowly turns me around.

  "Hey,” he says, and tucks my hair that has fallen over my eye behind my ear. My eyes follow his hand and my head wants to nuzzle it. “I’m glad to finally get you on your own. I've seen you around the office the last few months while you were in other departments, and I remember you from when you did your placement with us. I tried to keep my distance from you, but my God, you make it very difficult," his eyes have darkened, and his voice seems to have gone down an octave.

  He noticed me before? I can't do anything other than look at his beautiful mouth. How could I have missed this?

  "Thank you for dinner, I loved it," he says. “You definitely know the way to a man’s heart,” his gaze is killing me.

  “You’re welcome,” I reply breathlessly.

  My breathing has quickened and he has diverted his gaze to look at my mouth.

  I lick my bottom lip and bite down on it.

  He is going to kiss me.

  He leans in closing some distance between us. He is going in for the kiss. My eyes start to close, but then he pauses and hesitantly steps back from me, and says, "Have you got a corkscrew? I'm so used to all the bottles having screw tops these days, but I've managed to pick up one with a real cork."

  Really?

  No, REALLY.......?

  He wants a damned cork screw?

  He drops his hand away from my waist and it feels cold where his touch left me. I feel disappointment cascade through me like an avalanche, as the moment for him to kiss me passes. I wish he had kissed me. I really, really wish he had kissed me.

  I gather myself quickly, “Of course!” I reply, slightly shaking my head in dismay. I move to the drawer with the corkscrew and other utensils in it. I rake around for it, thrusting it at him once it surfaces, and tell him I'm going to the bathroom. I close and lock the door behind me resting my head against it and slide to the floor pulling my knees into me.

  What is this man doing to me?

  I finish up in the toilet, scrubbing my hands until they are nearly red raw as I think about this evening so far. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves and head back through.

  Jack is sitting on the sofa, he has refilled both our glasses and is flicking through my playlist. He looks so relaxed, like he sits there all the time. I wish he did.

  "Awesome compilation you have here, Jennifer," he says to me. "I think you need some country influence though." He laughs and pats the sofa for me to join him.

  "Country influence?" I question him while sitting down and grabbing my wine glass. That's definitely not my thing. "I don't really know any country musi
c, it's not really very popular here, I suppose."

  "Yeah, not so much here, but it’s real popular back home. I'll give you some of mine to listen to, I know you'll love it, or I'm pretty sure it will at least grow on you," he encourages.

  "I'll take your word for it," I laugh tentatively. If his cowboy music grows on me anything like Jack himself, I think I might just like it. Like, really, like it. A whole lot. And fast.