by Carol Ross
Gareth leaned back and wrapped his hands around one knee. Curiosity lit his face. “Like what did you learn?”
“If you would be willing to come and hang out at the lab with Reagan and me a few days a week, I’ll show you. I could really use your help with something, and I think it will help Reagan, too.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AIDAN’S AGENT EMAILED the list with the topics that were off-limits for the interview. Janie thought the compilation was outrageous and she didn’t understand how she was supposed to write an article about him—a human interest story—when she wasn’t allowed to ask him anything. And the topics weren’t only personal, some of them were downright bizarre. Even Laurel thought it seemed excessive.
Janie had no choice but to ask him about the list.
“It’s open,” Aidan yelled when she knocked on his door.
Janie found him near the middle of the room with a tape measure and a roll of blue painter’s tape. Two strips had been arranged on the floor to form an L shape.
He looked surprised to see her. “Janie, hi, what are you doing here?”
“Your agent sent the guidelines for the interview.”
“Oh, good, when do you want to get started? Can you hold this?”
Janie set her bag on his desk and reached out for the end of the tape measure. She held the end at a mark on the floor where he indicated as he measured a ways across the room, and then he made another mark on the floor.
“We could get started immediately except according to your list there’s very little I can ask you about.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aidan, the list is crazy. The things that are on it...” She shook her head while he jotted notes in a spiral-bound tablet. She craned her neck and saw what looked like a drawing of a...pigpen?
She gestured at the creation. “What is this?”
He flashed an enigmatic smile. “A project. I’ll fill you in later.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she responded dryly.
He grinned. “Everything on that list is perfectly reasonable.” He jiggled the tape measure that she still held. “You can let go now.” He snapped the notebook shut.
She released her end of the tape and stood up. The thin metal strip coiled back into place with a slicing sound.
“I don’t see how I’m supposed to interview you when I can’t ask you about anything.”
His gaze traveled around the large room like he was barely paying attention to what she was saying. With his mussed curls and golden stubble covering his chin, he seemed to epitomize the absentminded-professor stereotype—except she had to admit he was way better-looking than any professor she’d ever seen.
“Sure you can.”
“Have you seen the list?”
“Not literally, but it’s something that Drum has put together for me over the last couple years so of course I know what’s on it.”
Janie looked at the ceiling and muttered, “No wonder you have problems with reporters.”
That got his attention. His eyes locked on hers and seemed to drill into her.
“I’ve read about your lack of interest in being interviewed online. I’ve been doing some research.”
“Not having the list is what got me into trouble...before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I had the list.”
She squelched her irritation and took a shot at conciliation. “Aidan, please let Laurel assign someone else to do this interview. You were right—I’m not qualified for this. I feel like I’m interviewing a reclusive pop star or the head of some secret cult. This—you—are way out of my league. And the fact that it’s going to be published in a national magazine really intimidates me.”
“Nice try,” he said with a flat look. “Have you ever done any acting?”
She felt like stomping her foot; she let out a groan of frustration. “Aidan, I’m not—”
“I’ve read every one of your columns, Janie. You’re very talented.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise. “You... What?”
“You didn’t think I was demanding you do the article solely because I wanted to get on your good side, did you?”
Janie felt a prickle of discomfort at hearing her assumption voiced aloud. She couldn’t help but be flattered by his compliment, although her column wasn’t anything like this article.
“Thank you. But in my column I write about things I know about—things I do, things I love...”
“I know. I like that. Your passion comes through in your writing. I like that you enjoy gardening so much—we have that in common, you know?” He added a wink. “And I know that you find canning a bit tedious but also satisfying, and that knitting is your number one, all-time-favorite hobby.”
Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. Apparently she wasn’t the only one doing her research. “Stop trying to distract me with compliments.”
He laughed. “I can only see one solution then.”
“What’s that?” She asked the question hopefully, but somehow she knew she hadn’t managed to change his mind so easily.
“I guess you’re just going to have to learn to love me, too, huh?”
She knew he was joking but felt her cheeks growing warm. “This is going to be impossible.”
He tried to look wounded. “Hey, I know I can come across as a little awkward, a bit eccentric...but I’m not that bad.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, but it’s surprisingly fun to tease you. I have an idea. How about we take a more organic approach and do this interview in bits and pieces. That way you can learn my subtleties—maybe even learn to like me.”
“Bits and pieces?” she repeated skeptically.
“Yes, I’m better at conversation when I’m doing something anyway. So let’s make a series of, um, dates—for lack of a better word.”
Was this his idea of flirting? She repeated the word flatly. “Dates?”
“Engagements?” He tried again. “Rendezvous-es? I’m not sure how to make that word plural.”
“Appointments,” she supplied and hated how prudish she sounded. But she needed to stop this...this...whatever he was doing and keep things as professional as possible.
“Fine,” he said with a playful huff. “Have it your way.”
“If I had my way we wouldn’t be doing this at all, remember?”
“Appointments it is,” he returned quickly.
Janie had to admit to herself that she’d already learned something about him, and she never would have guessed he possessed this playful and charming side.
* * *
AIDAN COULDN’T WAIT to get the stitches out of his hand, although he had to admit it was kind of fun having Janie help him with certain tasks, like washing the pickup. He grinned as he thought about the day before, when she’d “accidentally” squirted him with the water hose after he’d pointed out a spot on the hood she’d missed for the third time.
He was already looking forward to their next “appointment.” He especially liked how it seemed to ruffle her that he called them dates.
He dribbled the ball a few times on the community center’s outdoor basketball court, executed a perfect right-handed hook shot and reveled in the sound of the quiet swish. As he retrieved the ball he heard his name called. He turned to see Emily walking toward him.
“Em, hey!”
“Aidan, what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for Tag. We’re meeting here when he gets off work.”
“To play basketball?”
“Yep, afterward we’re having dinner at the Cozy Caribou with a few of his friends. I’m going to get fat between Janie’s meals and eating at that restaurant all the time.”
Emily scowled as she tipped her head toward the court. “Should you be doing that with your hand still healing and all?”
“I’m shooting one-handed, I promise. Nice sweater,” he commented partly to distract her, and partly because it was.
“Thank you.” She looked down at the chunky knit in shades of red and pink. “Janie made it.”
Aidan stared at the beautiful garment. “Of course she did.”
Emily chuckled. “I told you she was good at everything. You should see her ugly sweaters.”
“Her...ugly...what?” He had yet to see anything ugly where Janie was concerned.
Emily threaded an arm through his. She bobbed her head toward the community center. “Janie is teaching a knitting class. Tonight she’s displaying some of the stuff she’s made, so I brought a few items she’s done for me, Violet and Bering.”
She gestured at the red sweater she wore. “Since I’m one of her students, too, I thought I’d go ahead and model this one. Come with me, dear brother, and I’ll show you what real talent is.”
* * *
OVER THE LAST week Janie and Aidan had looked at plants and bees under his microscope, assembled some shelves he’d had delivered, fixed the chain on Gareth’s bicycle and washed Aidan’s borrowed pickup. Well, she’d done most of the work while Aidan directed her, teased her and pitched in one-handed.
Janie would never admit it but she found herself looking forward to their interview sessions. She told herself it was because it gave her a break from the office, and not because she found Aidan interesting, entertaining and charming in his quirky kind of way.
“What are we doing today?” Janie asked as she walked toward Aidan’s set of comfy recliners and took a seat in one.
“We’re making cupcakes.”
“Cupcakes? You want me to help you make cupcakes?”
He winced and held up his injured hand. “Well, I don’t think I can...”
“You’re really getting some mileage out of that little boo-boo, aren’t you?”
He gave her a guilty grin.
She chuckled as she popped out of the chair and headed toward his kitchen. Cupcakes sounded like fun—it was no secret she liked to bake. Janie had also learned that Aidan liked to eat. Yesterday she’d brought him a pan of brownies and watched his eyes light like a little kid’s. He claimed he didn’t gush over her cooking simply because he spent so much time in the rain forest eating freeze-dried “vittles,” but she felt certain that must have something to do with his enthusiasm.
Aidan set about gathering measuring cups and ingredients out of his cupboards and some still-unpacked boxes; odd-looking, unmarked ingredients in baggies and small plastic containers and tins.
Janie washed and dried her hands and then took a quick inventory of the supplies he’d assembled. “Where’s the recipe?”
Aidan tapped his temple. “Right here. It’s a secret—like the Colonel’s.”
She rolled her eyes. “If the ingredients are secret how am I supposed to help you make them?”
Aidan let out a playful huff. “Would you just relax? I’ll walk you through it.”
Janie shook her head as she fetched the stainless steel bowl he requested out of the closet. He handed her a measuring cup and a plastic canister of some unidentifiable herb that looked like dried flower petals.
As she added two cups of the ingredient, she searched her brain for a safe topic. “So, you were raised in Oregon by your mom and Emily was raised in San Diego by her mom and stepdad, right?”
“Yep.” Aidan smiled and dumped a cupful of something into the bowl.
“I’ve met them—Mr. and Mrs. Campbell. They came up to visit after Violet was born. It’s hard to believe Emily came from them.”
He let out a laugh and Janie felt the warmth behind it. “Indeed. They are a bit rigid, aren’t they? Emily always struggled with that. Not the case with my mom. She’s the exact opposite—warm and wise and free-spirited. My mom is amazing.
“Here,” he said and handed her a bottle. “Three tablespoons of this.”
Janie carefully measured the sticky syrup. “I’d love to meet her. Single motherhood is tough—I can attest to that—but she obviously did a great job. She must be so proud of you. What does she do?”
He stopped what he was doing. “Is this for the article?”
Janie let out a surprised chuckle. “I don’t know—does it matter?”
Aidan narrowed his eyes in a thoughtful way. Janie imagined he was trying to figure out how to say yes without aggravating her.
“Aidan, I’m trying to get a conversation started about who you are, where you come from, what makes you tick. You know—what prompted your passion and purpose for plant life?” She smiled at her alliteration.
He lightly grazed his jaw with the back of his bandaged hand. “I can see this is amusing to you, and I understand your perspective. It’s just... I’d like to know if a question is being asked for the interview before I give my answer.”
She infused some drama into her tone and whispered, “Ohhh... I get it—what your mom does for a living is top secret. Does she work for the CIA or the FBI? Ooh, wait—Interpol?”
“Janie.” Her name came out on an impatient sigh.
“Come on, Aidan. Neither your mother nor your formative years are on the do-not-ask list. I’m fishing for something to write about here.”
“Herbalist.”
“What?”
“My mom is an herbalist.”
“Oh...that sounds really cool.”
“It is. I come by my love for plants naturally. I used to sit and paw through my mom’s plant books for hours on end when I was a kid. I knew the taxonomy of virtually every plant in my neighborhood and pretty much the entire state of Oregon by the time I was seven. Please don’t put that in the article.”
“Okay, but why not? That’s really cute.”
“Cute?”
“Yes, I mean that’s interesting and actually the kind of thing I’m looking for, for this story.”
He looked skeptical. “Really?”
“Yes, the kinds of things that make you relatable to normal people.”
“Normal people?” He stepped closer, almost hovering, and the action made her pulse jump. She shifted on her feet and focused on the unusual mixture forming in the bowl.
He reached around her and picked up a plastic canister that looked a lot like oat bran. He handed it to her.
She opened the lid and found the odor sweet, like molasses.
“One half cup of that.”
She measured carefully. “You know what I mean—not everyone has brains like you and Reagan. It can be intimidating.”
He leaned a hip against the counter. “Not to you.”
“Well, no... But I’m used to Reagan.”
Aidan nodded. “Yes, but something tells me that wouldn’t matter with you. I don’t imagine you being easily intimidated. I mean you called me on the carpet for the conversation you overheard. You could have pretended forever that you’d never heard those comments.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you were intimidated.”
“Pfft,” Janie said and measured out some gooey liquid that looked like corn syrup. “Intimidated because you made ignorant assumptions about me?”
“That I did,” he said softly. “I was very wrong about you.”
Something about the tone of his voice made Janie’s insides tighten. She looked back down. “What’s next?”
“That’s it. Now we put the batter in these pans.” He pointed at the minimuffin tins. Janie began plopping the mixture spoon by spoon into the pan’s divots.
“You are good at that.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve made a few cupcakes in my day—but honestly, Aidan? T
hese look disgusting. Do you plan to eat these? I could give you some recipes.”
He laughed. “No, they are for the bees.”
She scowled at him. “I just made cupcakes for bees?”
“Yep. It’s a bee attractant. I use it in certain instances so I can locate them easier, but it’s also natural, good for them, doesn’t spoil easy and it transports well. I used to use a liquid nectar but it was such a mess. I would get it all over everything and then I’d have bees in places I really didn’t want bees.”
That actually made sense and Janie found herself nodding. “That’s clever.”
“My mom came up with the recipe. She’s brilliant with plants in a way that I’m not. She’s also a fantastic cook. Not quite your caliber, but you guys would get along great.”
Janie shamelessly enjoyed the compliment.
Aidan slipped the tins into the oven, then turned and leaned against the counter so he was facing her.
She swallowed nervously. “What?”
“Now that the cupcakes are almost done—it’s my turn.”
“What do you mean? Your turn for what?”
“I want to ask you some questions.”
“Oh, what? No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? It doesn’t seem fair that you get to ask me all this stuff and I don’t get to find out anything about you.”
Janie sighed. “Okay, but I have a list, too, and it’s right here.” She tapped a finger to her temple. “I can pass on anything I don’t want to answer.”
“Fair enough.” He inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “I’m afraid you’re probably going to use one of those passes for this first question, but let’s give it a shot anyway.”
Her mouth went inexplicably dry.
“Why is it that you insist on calling your beautiful Christmas sweaters ugly?”
She let out a relieved giggle. “You’ve been talking to my mom.”
Aidan chuckled. “She has a point, Janie, they are really beautiful. I saw some of your creations at the community center. You weren’t there yet, but Emily showed me before your class.”