by Clover Hart
“Then why’re you still talking about it?”
Zing! I lean back in the booth, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s as cheesy as all get-out,” she says, “but it did make me curious as to why I’d be breathless. And isn’t that the point? Curiosity?”
She’s got me, but I’m not about to admit it. “I’ve seen homeless guys in New York offer up better lines to the women walking by.”
“Those men might really have some game if they claimed their rolls will leave chicks breathless.” Penny laughs again. “And your point isn’t relevant since Cherry Valley has no homeless situation.”
“That’s because even the homeless would die of boredom here.”
Now Penny leans back in her booth as she observes me.
“What now?” I ask.
“Do you like succulents?”
I have no idea where she’s going with this. “To eat? Like a Southwestern cactus salad? They’re okay, I guess. Why?”
“Because you have more defense mechanisms than a cactus, that’s why.” As our server slides the miso soup in front of us, Penny leans to the side so she can see me. “Yes, I took biology class, and I even paid attention.”
What the hell? But I’ve got to go with this because I’m intrigued. “Spell this out for me, Penny.”
“Well, I don’t mean to offend, and everyone has defenses and walls, yet you seem to have more than anyone I’ve ever met. Why is that?”
This is a business lunch, but what business of this is hers?
She’s right about one thing — my defenses have gone up, just as scheduled. “I’d say you’re no different than I am. You’re a walking wall. There was that time you deserted me at the bar at your going away party—”
“Totally deserved.”
“And …” I lower my voice and lean forward. “There was the matter of your kicking me out of your place after we—”
I clam up, because I’m not supposed to mention or care about that kind of thing. And, goddammit, we’re basically at work, I’m her boss, and I’ve just brought up the Forbidden Topic — in public.
Is Awkward anywhere on the menu? Because I’ve just choked on it.
I hold up my hands at her confused look, then kick myself some more for being so unprofessional. “Forget I said that.”
“Barry,” she says softly.
God, I hope she succeeds in reestablishing some boundaries a hell of a lot better than I did.
“I didn’t kick you out,” she says. “All I did was fall asleep.”
Like that’s much better.
We both straighten in our seats, obviously still trying to find solid ground.
“But never mind,” she says, batting the subject away with her hand like it’s no big thing. “We are so past that.”
“Yeah. Never to be mentioned again.”
“I’m with you all the way.”
Then the seaweed salad arrives and she beams. It saves us from having to say another word about defenses or succulents or That Night. As we dig in, Penny most definitely seems to have left the conversation behind, enjoying the miso soup and the seaweed salad, even though most people don’t take to that stuff right away. Thank God she got past that glitch we just had.
Won’t happen again.
When our first round of rolls is served, she barely waits for me to introduce each dish before she’s eating and mming and doing everything but falling down to the cushions in a limp heap of culinary ecstasy.
It looks like the rolls have left her breathless, and much to my dismay, watching the joy with which Penny eats them is doing the same exact thing to me.
Chapter 16
Penny
It’s a typical Sunday in Milton’s Diner during church time. I like to come here while my parents attend service, just so they can give me grief later about not being among Pastor Tarley’s regular congregation. They’ll mention it quite a few times tonight when I have dinner with them along with Zach and Mandy, who don’t really go to church either, except on major holidays. But Mom and Dad think that I need some moral discipline more than my little sister does.
While the smell of creatively rendered and fried animal parts fills the air, I’m one of three customers in the country-road diner. The antler decorations Milton’s is known for adorn the walls around me and hang over the roaring fireplace while I surf the Internet on my laptop. I’m eating an early lunch of fried turkey nuts — yes, those nuts — while researching the digital business classes Barry already texted me about. But now I’m onto a list of books he recommended, too. Naturally, Amazon seems to have every single motivational tome about how to be a good businessperson and how to have a four-hour workweek.
Since the diner is dead right now, the twins who own it slide into the booth across from me. Both of them are blonde in a Nashville-singer kind of way, looking like they should be sitting by a creek somewhere in lacy shirts, strumming on guitars and harmonizing. When they wear makeup, it appears as if they aren’t. Grace wears much more than Gwen, but still.
“What’s going on, Pen?” Grace asks me, planting her elbow on the table and leaning her chin in her hand.
“Just doing some book shopping.”
Grace pretends to stick her finger down her throat while Gwen sits half in, half out of the booth, perpetually scanning the diner. She’s ready to dart away at the slightest sign that a customer needs a drink refill. Grace has obviously got kitchen duty today, because her hair is piled in a mess on her head and she’s wearing an apron.
“What sort of books?” Gwen asks me, as no-nonsense as always.
“Work stuff.”
Grace whispers, “Nothing fun? Like, is there another Fifty Shades book out or anything?”
This time, Gwen’s the one who looks like she wants to force-barf.
“Nope, Gracie,” I say. “These books are for work.”
“Ah, work.” Grace waggles her eyebrows. “How’re things with that cute Barry guy in the office every day?”
“Fine.” Kind of.
“No one in Cherry Valley has a chance at that. I hear he only dates out-of-town women, as if we girls aren’t good enough for him. What a waste of a sex drive. I can’t believe he hasn’t even tried to ask me out.”
My hackles started rising way back when she waggled her eyebrows.
Gwen sighs. “Gracie, believe it or not, there’re some men who have standards.”
Grace frowns as if she’s trying to figure out if her sister just smoked her, but she moves on quickly with a daffy grin. I go back to my computer before she can talk more about Barry.
“Pen-ny,” she wheedles me.
I ignore her.
“Pen-ny.”
I look up from the screen. “Yes, Gracie?”
“When’re we going out to have some fun again? It’s like you’ve been too darned busy for any of that lately.”
Grace is often and inevitably my wingman. If I’m wild, she’s wooly, and Gwen is usually our designated driver. Gwen would rather read a book on her phone at the saloon’s bar while fending off the amorous advances of anyone brave enough to approach her. Sometimes she dates, but it’s not often. She basically can’t be bothered.
“I swear, Gracie,” I say, “I’ll get back in the mix once I find my feet in this new job.”
Ah, speaking of which … here’s a book Barry didn’t recommend. I access my texting function on the laptop and send him a message, just as I’ve been doing most of the morning.
How about this one?
I don’t know where he is — definitely not in church — but he’s been responsive this whole time. He’s probably on a dating app, and I frown before catching myself. As I look up to see if the twins noticed, Grace is peering out the window, but Gwen stares at me like she knows there’s something going on. With her amazing powers of perception, she actually might have an idea that I’m texting Barry, even though I haven’t advertised it.
Before I can tell Gwen that I don’t care if Barry dates th
e entire population of Marloe — I really don’t — Grace is taking a dive in her seat, hiding.
Gwen slowly glances down at her sister. “What are you doing?”
“Outside! I think he saw me seeing him!”
Barry’s text dings.
Penny. You will never be able to read all of these books in this lifetime.
Gwen is coolly looking out the window over her sister’s hunched body, and at a glance, I see that there’s a Sheriff’s Department SUV in the dirt parking lot. Deputy Jesse Herrera’s fine silhouette is in the cab.
“Gracie,” Gwen says, “he’s only taking a break with some Screaming Beans coffee.”
“Here?”
“He always parks here for that. That’s what all of the deputies do.”
Grace sits up and makes a very dignified show of turning her back to the window. Jesse Herrera is a legend around Cherry Valley — the quarterback who was smart enough to get a full ride at a big college out of town, but he hated the city so much that he ended up back here. I messed around with him one night, and he just wasn’t my type because he wasn’t loser enough. Grace actually slept with him, and she said the sex was terrible, so she’s spent her time dodging him ever since. Gwen just ignores all of it.
I send a text to Barry.
Just watch me read all these books, Boss.
Jesse is evidently getting out of his car, because Grace is now pushing at Gwen to get out of the booth. Gwen rolls her eyes and tells Grace to grow up, but Grace is behind the counter in a flash, then back in the kitchen. There are a couple of chuckles from the other customers behind me, but I’m busy watching for Barry’s next text.
Ding.
If you really want to sacrifice your social life to read all these books, I won’t stand in your way. Just don’t order anything now, because I can get a better deal on them.
He approves? Why do I get the feeling he’d like me to sit home reading instead of dating as much as he does?
I text back, Excellent, Sensei. I learned that word while looking up things about Japan and sushi.
I hear the door to Milton’s open and Jesse’s booted footsteps on the tile. Gwen sighs, but it’s only because her break is over. She goes to greet him.
Another text from Barry. Are you spending your day off working or something?
Me: Not officially. I’m just at Milton’s, eating some turkey nuts.
Maybe it’s the mention of nuts that makes him remember the night we’re trying to forget, so he texts back.
We’ll see you tomorrow, mentee.
I stare at the screen, recalling his nuts with a fond sigh. Then I shut my laptop and signal to Gwen that I’ll take my food to go.
It isn’t until a few days later, when I get a package at my apartment, that I realize there’s more to Barry than just nuts: every book on his reading list, and then some, is in this box, along with a note.
This isn’t a gift, per se. It’s part of my job to foster the careers of my employees, and I can write this off anyway.
Besides nuts, Barry Aaronson just might have a heart, too, even if he does his damnedest to hide it.
Chapter 17
Barry
The coders we’ve recently hired are running around the office like stockbrokers during a Wall Street crash. It’s deadline time for phase one of our first big mixed reality product — a beginner’s app we’ll be introducing to the townsfolk so they can ease into our new world by seeing their actual surroundings in Cherry Valley’s stores, then buying and paying for items directly from the app. The action team is also interfacing with CV’s shops on how to work with the app themselves. Needless to say, a huge project.
The coding staff is here after hours, and they’re sprawled with their laptops around the bean bags, plush chairs, and desks in the bigger rooms where stuff like ping pong tables and flexible seating encourage productivity and creativity. Pizza boxes, sandwich wrappers, and beer bottles litter the floors, evidence of my grand attempt to keep everybody happy and reward them for their efforts. And it’s working, too. Every time I wander back there while taking a stretch from my own pressing assignment, things are getting done.
I’m up against the clock as well because I’ve got to write and polish a status report for our investors before tomorrow’s meeting with them. Zach can’t help me go through the documentation — he’s in charge of the coding — so he’s suggested I ask Penny to work with me.
Penny, the girl I can’t stop thinking about. Yeah, I’m sure that’s going to help. But I’m in the weeds, so I ask her. I even bring her some of that cherry cider she loves as an incentive. She readily agrees, eager to learn another side of our operations.
At first, she works from her own office, using our shared docs program, and I work from mine. This is a good situation, because with her down the hallway, I don’t have to keep remembering how she sighed while eating that sushi the other day. I don’t have to look up and see a replay of that pretty smile she wore as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the hell out of that food — or a lot of other things we did together that I can’t forget.
By the time midnight rolls around and I send her my final draft, I’m worn down from all the intense work — and I don’t just mean the report. It’s getting harder and harder to fight off this thing I’ve developed for Penny. I know it’ll go away soon — and I can’t wait until it does — but for the time being, she’s got me exhausted.
The coders are filtering out of the office to go home now, and even Zach checks in before he leaves.
“Phase one complete,” I say, toasting him with my beer. “You did it.”
“We did it.”
We smile. All the years we spent at Stanford, dreaming of a new and better world brought about by the tech we’re creating … it’s finally happening.
He rubs his eyes under his glasses. “You going home soon?”
“Penny’s proofing that report. After she leaves, I’m staying to make corrections before sending it to the investors. Then I’m out.”
“Get some sleep, partner.” And he’s off.
The office is nearly silent, the window in my office dark with the night outside. Even as peaceful as everything is, there’s a buzz in the air, and it’s because Penny and I are alone.
At least she’s in her office and I’m in mine.
I’m just closing my eyes for a catnap when Penny ruins an ideal situation by coming in with her laptop and a cherry cider, then plops down onto my huge beanbag sofa. Knowing today was going to be a long haul, she dressed in UGG boots and a fashionable blue sweat suit. The color brings out her eyes, and I push back my hair, just for something else to do besides stare at her while thinking some very unprofessional thoughts. I drink my beer and sit up straight in my chair.
“Is it okay for me to proofread in here?” she asks. “It’s eerie with no one else around.”
“Sure.” I’ve got to get busy with something, so I wake up my laptop and open the doc she’s proofing. I can see her live changes. There aren’t very many, so I start correcting my work. Congratulations to me, because I find myself looking over at her only about ten times. Every damned time, a rush of heat makes me buck up and shake my head. I’ve got to get away from her as soon as I’m done with this.
When we finish, Penny closes her computer and leans back on the beanbag, going nowhere. “Now that was a long day.”
I’ve just sent the report to the investors, so I close my laptop, too. “Thanks for staying and putting in all this extra work. You did a fantastic job.”
“Whoa.” She raises her head to look at me. “Was that a compliment?”
She’s teasing me. No one but Zach really does that behind these office walls. No one does it much outside of them either. I’ll let her get away with it because … fuck, I like her, at least for right now. There, I said it. Besides, she’s right to be surprised that Barry the Asshole just doled out a kind word.
“I guess I’m more of a fault finder than a complimenter,” I say. “I’
m hard on others because I want them to succeed, but I’m just as hard on myself.”
“Why’s that?”
I drink some more of my beer, then shrug. “I was raised to be that way. My family is a bunch of high achievers — doctors and investment types. They hate that I went into tech.” I laugh brusquely. “They see me as some kind of Willy Wonka throwing good money around on something the world doesn’t need.”
“You’re kidding me. They’re not super proud of you?”
I laugh again, then think of how I’m actually due to call my mom. I’ll probably catch hell because I’ve been putting it off, leaving messages about my deadlines. “Proud is a word reserved for the Aaronsons who stick with the family program. I became something of a black sheep back when I turned down Harvard and Princeton to go to Stanford.”
“What?” She’s surprised as hell.
“The Aaronsons have gone to Ivy League schools for generations, and you can’t imagine the shit I caught for my decision.”
“Wait — they gave you grief because you went to an amazing college?” Penny’s eyes are huge. “I can imagine a few other reasons they’d give you shit, but that’s at the bottom of the list.”
She coats that dose of sarcasm with a sweet smile, and I do the same to her, but without the sweetness.
“So besides hating your college, your family hates your job, too?” she asks.
“Yeah. They just don’t get how I can believe so deeply in what Zach and I are doing. To them, money is a measure of success, and right now the money doesn’t matter as much to me as the tech does. Don’t get me wrong — FCT is going to be making bank hand over fist in the end, but they don’t see that. They also think I should be back in New York, not in some pony-turd town. I keep on telling them that I was willing to settle in Cherry Valley and give up everything I had in the city because of FCT.”
“I’ll bet they’d give anything if you’d just go back, run some big capital firm, and settle down with some nice girl in Manhattan.”