I went from pale to crimson in a breath. “Shut up about it. I’ll get over him. I just need to see him with a woman, and that’ll cure me right quick.”
Brady checked an incoming text on his phone. “Looks like the guy you’ll be seeing with a woman tonight will be me. You should always pick out my dates. I forgot about this one.”
“Only if you let me pick out your shoes, too. I’ve got one functioning eye, and even I can see you’re wearing dirty sneaks to go pick up a girl. Wear the tan dress shoes Caty and I picked out for you with the brown belt. Pretend like you give a crap.”
“Hello, I’m wearing a nice shirt with actual buttons. If that doesn’t say ‘rip my clothes off me,’ I don’t know what does.”
“You’re dreamy,” I teased, shooing him towards his bedroom. I washed the raw meat stench off my hands and face, because… gross. I took my time with my ginger ice cream and booted up my laptop, clicking from site to site to research how to write successful grant proposals. I’d never even read a grant proposal before, so I didn’t have high hopes I’d get it right. Then I went to the website of the donor who was in charge of issuing said grant that was first on Keith’s list. I spent probably too much time researching the donor, Googling the ins and outs of what made them tick. An hour passed after Brady left before I realized that I’d been rereading the same page too many times. The formal words were starting to run together, so I cleared my mind and tried my hand at drafting up my first grant proposal.
I struggled not to think about Eli, because each time I pictured his ruggedly handsome face, I cringed at what a dork I devolved into in his presence. I wasn’t looking forward to the unfortunate mishaps that could occur on a tiny plane if he got too near me on skydiving day.
When Brady brought “Hook-up with Spiky Heels She Kept On” home, I packed up my stuff to make myself scarce. I fell asleep to the sounds of them screwing their brains out, and wondered errantly if Eli would be bringing anyone home.
5
Stewing and Flirting
When I came home from running a few errands the next day, I felt the surge of accomplishment at crossing so many things off my list – all except the mechanic, who was booked solid through the weekend. I took the bus instead, not trusting the clanging noise in my engine.
The afternoon bustle of the stores on a Friday was just enough social interaction to make me appreciate the hooky high that not going to work on a weekday gave me. I hummed to myself as I started making dinner, hoping Brady would never get sick of my lamb and apricot stew with sourdough bread. Brady and I were both creatures of habit, since our lives were spent mostly on the go. Coming home to something familiar, even if it was old news, brought about a contentment that was hard to describe to the types of people who were always jonesing to shake it up. I loved the lamb stew recipe I knew like the back of my hand. My mother had been a housekeeper for an Armenian family for a time, and brought home weird recipes that still made my mouth water.
Soon enough, the tomato broth was simmering with the chunks of lamb, shallots, red wine, dried and fresh apricots, garlic, mint leaves and a coriander and cloves spice blend of my own creation. I sighed happily at the smell of it all marrying in the pot, and filling the apartment with an airborne hug. I started in on the yogurt, stirring in cinnamon to get the layers of flavor just right.
My dough had risen nicely, and I sang quietly to myself as I kneaded the sticky ball, while Billie Holiday played on my iPod at the kitchen’s docking station. I loved her voice, and felt my heartrate relax as my hips swayed slowly to the music. Maybe I had been working too hard. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sang in the middle of the afternoon while cooking a legit meal – not the thrown-together-in-twenty-minutes kind of dinner. I knew Mr. Li would love a bowl of this stew, and made a mental note to bring some down to him later. I put the bread in the oven and chopped up some kale to toss last minute into the pot.
I wanted to serve wine with the stew, but the glasses were on the top shelf, which I couldn’t reach. I hopped up on the counter, kneeling so I could fish around for the larger glasses that looked fancier than our usual beer bottles and plastic cups. I stopped singing when I saw that Caty had left her wine glass here. I mean, I hadn’t expected her to take it. What was she supposed to do with one wine glass? Still, we’d bought them when the three of us were a family. That her glass remained but she’d moved out hit me at just the right note to add a touch of melancholy. I thumbed the rim, and then reached over my head to fish around for Brady’s glass.
“I can get tha,” came the Irish brogue that made my heart race into overdrive out of nowhere.
I yelped and wobbled from my perch on the counter. My outburst turned into a pathetic bleat when heat shot through me – a product of Eli’s hands wrapping around my hips to steady me. “I didn’t know you were home!” I accused, as if he should’ve worn a bell around his neck to announce his presence.
“Just came back to relax for a bit. I could smell the stew you’ve got brewing as soon as I unlocked the door. I’ve never heard your singing before.”
I scrambled to get down, nearly kicking him and almost dropping my wine glass in the process. “Oh, you weren’t supposed to hear that! I’m so sorry.” I refused to look at his face, keeping my back to him as I skirted around the kitchen. I flicked off the burner so I could run into my room. There were actual flames out here, which wasn’t all that safe when my Hot Guy clumsiness was factored into the equation. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally light the poor guy on fire. “You can have the kitchen. I was just finishing up.”
“Violet, wait! Ye don’t have to disappear every time I come near. Did I do something to frighten ye?” His voice was hurt, which tugged at my conscience.
“No! No, of course not. You’re perfectly nice. I’m just… I forgot I have some stuff I have to take care of. The place is all yours.” I angled my body away from him when he tried to move around so he could stand in my eyeline. The nape of my neck was starting to sweat, and though the food smelled amazing, I knew I couldn’t risk getting near the pot without spilling its contents on myself. I didn’t want to waste a night in the ER with second degree burns. I stared at the counter, my back to him so I didn’t have to see how good looking he still was. Perhaps when I turned around again, he’d be covered in warts, and I could be a touch more normal.
My eyes shut tight when I heard a note of frustration in his voice. “Why won’t ye look at me? I’ve never met a woman who literally ran from me every chance she got. Out with it. Seriously, now. Let’s clear the air so ye don’t have to go scurrying out of the room every time I come near. What is it about me tha bothers ye so much?”
“Nothing! You’re great. I’ve got no problem with your face or your pecs. Why would I?” I clutched the counter as my anxiety spiked. “You take up barely any space. You’re like a ghost. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s just me being a dork. Ignore me.”
His voice sounded unbearably sad from two feet behind me where he stood, forlorn and tugging on my heartstrings. “Ye can’t be in the same room as me, and now ye can’t even look at me. Turn around, Violet. I’m no one to be afraid of.”
I palmed the counter, wishing I’d told Keith that I couldn’t do John Freedmeyer’s evaluation in the first place. I could’ve been at work right now, instead of trying to hide in plain sight in my own apartment. “I… I can’t! You don’t understand. Today’s not a good day for you to see me.”
Eli’s gruff voice turned softer. “Well, I’m seeing ye now, and wouldn’t mind a bit more. I’ve never had this much trouble getting a woman to talk to me. Turn around.”
My shoulders slumped in defeat. I hadn’t wanted him to question himself or feel like a loser who couldn’t get people to talk to him. I knew I couldn’t avoid him without seeming like a total wench who was too prissy to look in his direction. My fingers gripped the counter so hard, they turned white. “Okay, but don’t make a big deal about my face. I’m… I can’t undo it, so
just let it go for now. Can you do that?”
“Jays, did ye forget to put makeup on or something? Is it possible anyone’s this sensitive about their looks?”
I sighed, keeping my chin down as I turned around. I heard his gasp, but it was his crooked finger touching the underside of my chin to lift my head that did me in. I shivered at the contact, biting my lip to keep my desire tucked inside. The urge to pop his digit into my mouth and suck on it roiled low in my belly, but I shushed the gluttonous monster as best I could. “I told you I didn’t want you to see. I’m not being vain. I don’t even wear makeup.”
He held up his hands to prove their innocence before stepping closer, treating me as if I was a horse that might spook if he moved too quickly. Despite their width and beefiness, Eli’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as they fluttered over my face, turning my chin to the left and the right so he could examine the swelling from all angles. “Who?” he asked with a definitive succinctness that demanded an actual answer.
“Just a patient who got out of hand at work.”
“I thought ye were a nurse. Who punches a nurse?”
“Not a nurse. I’m a physical therapist. I largely treat veterans. Most of them are great, but a few have a little mental instability that flares up from time to time. It’s PTSD that wasn’t treated when it should’ve been, or a lingering psychosis that waited until later in life to come out.” I shrugged, but couldn’t bring myself to move my face from his touch. His thumb stroked the slope of my jaw, his eyes landing on my lips in a way that made my Hot Guy Blurts thrust out in a blast. “Stew and bread!” I shouted in his face, making him jump. I cringed at my lack of grace. “Sorry. I mean that I made stew and bread. I don’t actually know what you like, but you’re welcome to it.”
Eli took a step back, as if just realizing that he’d been dominating my personal space. If I had half a brain about me, I would’ve let him stay close all evening long, bathing in the cologne-scented deodorant and the piney smell he traveled with. “It smells incredible. Thanks. I think I will join ye.”
My mouth went dry when I realized that I would be stuck eating the most spillable food in front of the guy who turned me into a total klutz. “Oh, um…” I wanted to think up a reason why I couldn’t eat with him, but nothing came to mind. “Okay, sure.”
He looked put out at my hesitation to spend time with him, but took it in stride. “How can I help?”
I actually would need his help if I was going to get the food on the table without burning myself or him. I was worried I might spill everything all over, like a bad vaudeville comedy skit. “You’re hot,” I blurted out like a dummy. I smacked my hand on my forehead. “Your hands will be hot. I mean, the bread is hot. Oven mitts!”
Eli looked at me as if I’d gone partially insane. “How hard did he hit ye? You’re talking like I should be taking ye to the emergency room.”
I’m sure I did sound like I had a few screws loose. I whirled around, located my phone on the counter and texted Brady in aggressive all caps. “BLURTS! GET HOME NOW! IF I ACCIDENTALLY KISS ELI AND THEN FALL ON MY FACE BECAUSE HE’S THE HOTTEST GUY I’VE EVER SEEN, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” Then, of course, I dropped my phone on the floor. We both bent down to pick it up, and I cracked my forehead to his, because, well, why wouldn’t that happen?
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” we both said at the same time. We reached out and touched each other’s forehead, and that same heat lit up my body, making my lashes flutter. As soon as I realized I was fondling his hairline without clinical detachment, I ripped my hands away from him, falling backward onto my butt.
Eli studied me, his concern and confusion melting away when he looked down at my phone and chuckled. “Oh. Tha makes more sense now. Jays, I thought… Well, ye have an odd way of showing attraction, tha’s for sure.”
My mouth fell open and my eyes glanced over the damning sent text, and Brady’s answer of, “Just ask Eli out. I bet he says yes. After a date, you won’t be so clumsy around him.”
“Oh, no. Oh, no. That didn’t happen. You didn’t see that, and I didn’t type it.” Chagrin and agony washed over my face as I leaned against the cupboard. “Undo it! Undo it!” I shouted childishly, shutting my eyes to fend off reality.
Of all things, Eli kept snickering, his low laugh endearing me to him even more, while the rest of me wanted to run away to the Alps to hide out in a snowbank somewhere. Perhaps all the snow in the world might be able to cool off the heat that rose up in me at the sound of his deep laugh. “I can’t remember the last time I was so twisted up, as ye are. Tha’s all this is? Ye fancy me?”
“No!” I belted out, my volume uncontrollable. “It’s just your face and your arms. And your body. And your smile. And your accent. And your hands. And your butt. And your laugh.” I clamped my hand over my mouth and let out a bray of distress as the horrors kept flying out. “I’m sorry!”
At this, Eli threw his head back and laughed louder, holding his toned stomach. The emerald eyes that usually looked so serious gave way to actual joy. I’d made Eli laugh. It was a full-bodied, beautiful sound that stirred a whole new layer of attraction deep in my belly. “Jays! Wow, is tha all? Nothing about my hairy feet? No compliments at all on my personality? I’m fairly certain I should be offended.”
We were still on the floor of the kitchen, with me backed all the way into the cupboards in the corner, blinking in horror that I couldn’t stop the idiocy from flowing. He slid over to sit next to me, resting his broad back on the cupboard door. Though there was a solid three inches of space between my arm and his, it felt like we were touching. Oh, how I wanted him to touch me – anywhere and everywhere. I hung my head in shame. “I couldn’t be more embarrassed right now. I’m sure you have a great personality, but I wouldn’t know, because I have this dysfunction that if I’m around an attractive guy, I turn into a dummy who can’t get anything right.”
“Tha’s quite the affliction. Ye must stumble around all day in a stupor, then, since half the people out there are men. Ye aren’t this way around Brady.”
I shot Eli a withering look that made him chuckle. “It’s not all attractive men, just the few with your supernova level of hotness. I haven’t been this incurable since one guy in college, and I never even got up the courage to say one word to him. But you live here, just walking around, looking like that!”
Eli’s chuckle was an addiction that made my debasement worth something in the exchange of my humiliation for his sheer sexiness. “I had no idea. I thought ye were afraid of me. Ye run away every time I come near. Come here, Mouse.” My heart nearly stopped beating when his arm coiled around my back. He pulled me closer until I was tucked into his side. My hand fell on his chest, and my whole body froze. I was afraid I would grope him, fondle his pecs and tease his nipples, so I stopped moving entirely. He felt too good, his musculature too enticing, beckoning me to run my fingers along the ridges of his abdominals. His voice was deep and welcoming, setting my stomach twirling. “Tha was just about the best compliment I’ve ever been paid. Thanks for making my night.”
It was his contented sigh while he held me that pushed my anxiety over the edge. I yelped and scrambled on hands and knees away from his half-embrace, blinking at him like a doe staring down her hunter. Armed or not, Eli was dangerous to me. “Okay, you can’t hold me like that ever again. It makes me… For your own good, that’s not what you want to do. Just call me a freak and be done with it.”
“And ye know what I want?”
My eyes widened. “I know you don’t want me to grow more infatuated.” I motioned to myself, “This isn’t going to get any better, unless you make yourself really unattractive somehow. And frankly, I just don’t see that being a possibility.”
“So let me get this straight. Ye want me, ye have my arm around your back, but ye want to get away because you’ll only want me more? I’m not seeing the logic in tha.”
“I can’t know what your body feels like, Eli! Or that you smell like the b
est kind of sexy dream. It’s only making this worse! That guy I had a crush on in college? I saw him coming in the hallway one day, and I tripped over my own two feet trying to get away from him and gave myself a bloody nose. I turn into a complete klutz, and have a steady stream of verbal vomit that I can’t turn off.” I dropped my phone three times before finally pressing the call button. When Brady picked up, I shouted, “Get over here! I’m freaking out! I touched his pecs, and now I know what they feel like! If I have a heart attack, it’s all your fault!”
Then I realized that I said that all in front of Eli, whose laughter was only matched by Brady’s. I hung up the phone and scrambled away from both of their voices, crawling – yes, crawling – toward my bedroom before I could say anything else to seal my position as the most awkward girl in the world.
6
Leprechaun on My Bed
The timer buzzed above the stove, announcing that the bread was baked, but I was still shaking like a leaf in the privacy of my bedroom. Eli had laughed for a solid five minutes, going back and forth on the phone with Brady as the two had a nice, long chat about my affliction.
When his knock sounded on my door, I jumped and yelped like a child awaiting the boogeyman, who happened to knock politely. “I’m busy!” I shouted, afraid of facing him (or the world) ever again.
“Brady’s on his way home. Thought ye might want to know.”
“Okay. I’m going to turn in. Have a good night.” Go away!
“Can I ask ye something, Mouse?”
Violet’s Bucket List Page 5