[Meet Your Match 01.0] Prejudice Meets Pride

by Rachael Anderson

  The scent of cherry fluoride seemed to linger in the air around Kevin as he studied the specs of a new piece of equipment he’d been thinking about purchasing for his office. The Cerec AC Connect was a machine that used computer-aided design and manufacturing to create a ceramic crown in about fifteen minutes. If it worked the way it was touted, a patient could potentially be in and out of his office with a new crown in less than an hour. If only it didn’t have such a huge price tag. Kevin was on track to pay off the loan on his practice in only seven more years, and this little wonder of a machine would take that to at least eight.

  The practical side of him screamed for him not to do it, but his compassionate side, the one that hated making kids come back for a second visit—and a second numbing—had him giving it some serious consideration. That, and the fact that it was just plain cool.

  “Kevin,” Janice said from the doorway. “The Crest rep is here to drop off some samples. He also has a couple of extra tickets to some new art gallery show this weekend and is wondering if anyone is interested. I know it’s not really your thing, but I figured I’d ask before I offered them to anyone else.”

  Kevin’s initial instinct was to wave her away with a “No thanks.” She was right. Art galleries definitely weren’t his thing. But they were Emma’s. In fact, she’d probably love to go.

  Problem was, she’d left a little early today.

  “I’ll take them,” Kevin said.

  Janice’s eyes widened, looking even larger through her glasses. “Since when did you become interested in art?”

  “I’m not. But I happen to know someone who is. I’ll pass them on.” Kevin left Emma’s name out on purpose. Although Janice never came right out and said it, he knew Emma’s presence at the office still bothered her. Whether it was because Emma was having a hard time getting up to speed or because Janice didn’t like her, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to stir the pot if he didn’t have to.

  “Okay then. I’ll let Pete know you’ll take them off his hands.”

  “Thanks.”

  After Janice disappeared, Kevin stared at the specs of the Cerec machine, but his mind was elsewhere. Why had he just done that? Why did he feel the need or desire or whatever it was to get those tickets for Emma? Why did part of him want to go with her? To see how she’d react and find out what made her love art so much?

  He shouldn’t have done it. He should catch up to Janice and tell her that he didn’t want the tickets anymore—to find someone else who wanted them. That’s what someone in his right mind would do.

  But Kevin stayed put. He even accepted the tickets with another “thanks” when Janice reappeared a few moments later and set them on his desk. Why? Because he obviously wasn’t in his right mind. Which also explained why he was considering spending over one hundred grand on a crown maker.

  In his defense, though, it was a really amazing crown maker.

  Kevin kept the tickets stuck to his fridge with a magnet for several days as he waffled over the question of whether or not to give them to Emma. Would she make it out to be something more than it was? Or would she take them for what they were: extra tickets for something she would like from one friend to another?

  By Saturday morning, the day of the showing, he knew he had to give them to her, for no other reason than to avoid letting them go to waste. He could make it casual and simply say, “Hey, I got these from some rep the other day. I was going to pitch them, but I remembered you were into art and figured you might want to use them. Maybe Sam could go with you.” If he suggested she take Sam, it would be clear that he wasn’t asking her out.

  Emma would reply “sure,” he’d mow her lawn, and that would be that.

  Then Kevin would call Nicole, apologize for the last minute notice, and take her out for a nice dinner. It was about time he did something to say thanks for the night she’d helped him babysit. And it was definitely time he returned his focus to where it belonged.

  Kevin changed into some old jeans and a t-shirt then pulled the lawnmower out of his garage. At first, he’d bought it for the sole purpose of making the neighbor’s lawn less of an eyesore, but now he found he actually enjoyed the chore. Being outside, the smell of fresh cut grass, Kajsa and Adelynn playing around him as he mowed, seeing the grass look healthier with each passing week—it all made him really look forward to Saturday mornings. He might even like it enough to cancel his service and start mowing his own lawn as well.

  As he headed to Emma’s, with the art gallery tickets tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, he whistled a song his favorite babysitter used to sing to him when he was younger.

  “What song is that?” Kajsa bounded up to him when she saw him coming. Both she and Adelynn were decorating their driveway with sidewalk chalk. Kajsa was covered in fine white and pastel smudges.

  “It’s a song I learned when I was about your age called ‘Walkin’ in the Sunshine.’”

  “Will you teach it to me?” she asked.

  Kevin’s eyes darted past Kajsa and into the garage, where Emma crouched next to what used to be Maude’s old lawnmower and yanked on a wrench to loosen a bolt. Various parts and screws lay scattered around her on the ground. What was she doing?

  “Please?” Kajsa pleaded.

  Kevin’s attention returned to Kajsa. Oh, right. The song. “I’d love to teach it to you sometime, but—”

  “Stupid machine!” Emma gave the mower a good kick, sending it sideways.

  “But right now I think your aunt needs a little help,” finished Kevin.

  Kajsa nodded, not looking the least bit upset about being put off. “She keeps yelling at the thing that’s supposed to cut our grass. I think she broke it.”

  Kevin bit back a smile. “Why don’t you draw me a picture of the sun while I go see if I can help?”

  “Okay.” She ran to tell Adelynn what Uncle Kevin wanted her to do. Adelynn, of course, also needed a coloring assignment, so Kevin told her to draw a flower patch. Then he side-stepped around the pictures to get to Emma, who was now glaring at a sheaf of papers in her hand. Her fingers were darkened with grease, and there was a smudge mark on her cheek. Kevin checked the impulse to wipe it away.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fixing my lawnmower so you don’t have to mow my lawn anymore.” Emma raised her greasy hand above her head, indicating a certain height. “I’ve had it up to here with being a charity case.”

  Okaaay, he thought. Kevin had no idea what had gotten into Emma, but something told him that if he started mowing her lawn, he’d be the next thing to get kicked. “If you feel that strongly about it, why don’t you just borrow my machine and do it yourself?”

  “Why would I borrow yours when I have a perfectly good one right here?” Emma said, turning her glare on him.

  “Because that’s not a perfectly good one. It doesn’t even work.”

  “It will once I fix it.”

  Kevin took in the spark plug, the air filter, and what looked to be the fuel line, along with several other things he didn’t recognize. “And how are you going to do that?”

  Emma grabbed the paper she was holding and started reading from it. “By replacing the spark plug and air filter. Then I’m going to clean out something called the vent hole, which I think is that piece there”—she pointed to something on the side of the mower—“and blow out the fuel line, which should be that thing over there. I’m also going to clean out the carburetor if I can get that stupid screw loose and make sure there’s no water in the gas tank. Okay?” The papers dropped to her side, and the glare returned.

  Kevin eyed the mess she’d made, wondering if she’d even know how to put it all back together. “Emma…” He let the word drag out as he shook his head, not quite sure how to tell her it wasn’t going to happen.

  Emma took a step toward him, and with her hands on her hips, said, “I know you think I’m completely incompetent, but I’m not. I graduated at the top of my class from the Rhode Island School of Design.
I even had a teaching job lined up. Did you know that? Because there were lots of applicants—lots! And I got the job! Me! Because, believe it or not, I’m good at some things!”

  Kevin’s eyes widened. “You graduated from—”

  “And if I say I can fix this lawnmower, I can fix this lawnmower! Do you hear me?”

  Kind of hard not to. In fact, the entire street had probably heard her. “Listen, Emma. Graduating from art school, even one as prestigious as Rhode Island, doesn’t make you a mechanic. It makes you an artist.” A pretty amazing artist if she was at the top of her class.

  “An artist who can fix this mower!” She kicked it again and yet another part flew off the top.

  “Aunt Emma, you’re not supposed to yell or kick. That’s naughty.” Adelynn’s hands rested on her hips as she gave her aunt a very adult stern look.

  Kevin’s lips twitched, and Emma had the grace to look abashed. “You’re right, Adi. I’m sorry.”

  Adelynn nodded, as though her work was done, and went back to her drawing.

  The abashed gray eyes rested on Kevin next. She let out a breath. “I’m sorry to you, too.” She grimaced. “I’m just so… frustrated, you know? So sick of being the one who always needs help and can never repay—oh, wait!” She darted for the door that led inside and disappeared, returning a moment later with an envelope which she thrust at him. “For the groceries,” she said. “As promised.”

  Every part of Kevin screamed at him not to take it. He didn’t want it or need it. Why couldn’t she let it go and forget about it? Why wouldn’t she let him ease some of her burdens? He wanted to—so much. It was killing him how much. But then he looked from the envelope to her eyes, and in that instant, he knew he couldn’t turn down the money. She needed him to accept it.

  So he did, though he hated himself for it. To him, forty bucks was pocket change. To her, it was a weeks’ worth of groceries. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  “Thank you for loaning it to me.”

  “Anytime.” His eyes captured and held hers. “I mean it, Emma. Anytime.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  That would have to be enough for now. Kevin fingered the envelope, wishing there was something he could do. Something she’d let him do. “Would you like to borrow my lawnmower?” he asked tentatively, worried the question would make her go all ape on him again. “It works.”

  Emma’s hand covered her mouth, muffling a strangled sound. Was that a sob or a snicker? Kevin couldn’t tell. Please don’t let her be crying. He never knew what to say or do when a woman got all weepy.

  The sound came again, and Emma’s eyes filled with suppressed humor. Whew. It was a snicker. She was trying not to laugh. Did that mean he could press his luck? He gestured toward his mower. “Or, I could always mow it for—”

  “No. ” And just like that, all traces of humor were gone. “I’ll mow my own lawn, thanks. Then I’ll clean it up, refill it with gas, and return it to you in better shape than before. Because that’s what you do when you borrow something.” It sounded rehearsed—a lesson ingrained in her by parents or someone else. “And then I’ll find a way to repay you for everything else you’ve done for me. Because I hate—hate—being in your debt.”

  Kevin stepped forward and rested his hands on Emma’s shoulders, still clutching the envelope. He shook her shoulders lightly until those beautiful gray eyes met his. “Emma, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes—”

  “No, you don’t,” he said firmly, then held the envelope in front of her face. “As far as I’m concerned, this makes us square.”

  She didn’t try to say anything this time, only continued to stare at him with eyes that he could drown in. He lowered his hand from her shoulder and shoved the envelope in the back pockets of his jeans, where he felt another envelope containing the art gallery tickets.

  He pulled them out. “And speaking of not owing me anything, I happen to have two tickets for some big art gallery show tonight in Denver. They were given to me and didn’t cost a dime,” he quickly added. “Would you like to go?”

  Her eyes clouded in confusion. “With you?”

  No, with Sam or even Becky. Anyone but him. He was taking Nicole out tonight, not Emma. Nicole. If only his heart would stop pounding on his chest to say, “Yeah. With me.” The words were out before he could stop them. “I can see if Sam’s available to watch the girls.”

  “You mean like a date?” Emma said.

  Did he mean that? Kevin wasn’t sure. Everything that had seemed so clear moments before suddenly became murky and garbled. “How about we call it two friends hanging out? Something tells me you could really use a break.”

  The confusion left her eyes, and she frowned. “Great. So now I’m the charity case again.”

  Worried that he’d inadvertently turned up the heat on a pot that had only just begun to simmer, Kevin amended, “I meant a date. It’s like a date.”

  Her eyes flickered to his briefly before she looked away and nodded. “Okay then.”

  “Okay.” Kevin took one step backward, then another, wanting to leave before he said something that might upset the balance. He pointed to the mower. “Don’t forget to bring that back to me in brand new condition. I’ll never loan it to you again if you don’t.”

  Her response was to make a face by resting her thumb against the tip of her nose and wiggling her outstretched fingers. The gesture brought a smile to Kevin’s face and a lightness to his heart. Not only had she agreed to borrow his lawnmower, but she’d agreed to go out with him. For now, that was enough.

  “Hey, Kajsa,” he called. “Want to learn that song now?”

  The way her expression brightened only added to a day that had just taken a surprisingly good turn.

  The front room felt eerily quiet without the girls’ lively voices springing off the walls. Emma rubbed her hands together at the same time her feet tapped against the ground, making her exposed knees bump up and down, along with the hem of the skirt she wore. What must Kevin think of her? Not only had she acted naughty, as Adelynn so kindly pointed out, but once again, Kevin had to step in as the hero of the hour and pop a pacifier into her mouth. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she had to go and turn his invitation to “hang out” into a date.

  So now, here she was, waiting for her “date” to pick her up—only Kevin wasn’t really her date. Talk about awkward. That ought to teach her not to think she’d already sunk to the bottom of the barrel. In her world, there was no bottom, just an endless abyss of future embarrassments. At least where Kevin was concerned.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Emma jumped. Then she stood and tried to hide her humiliation behind squared shoulders. If Kevin had agreed to a date—even if it was only to pacify her—then a date it would be. Besides, she’d likely never get another chance to go out with him, so she might as well make the most of it.

  She opened the door with feigned confidence and a smile she hoped looked genuine. But when she saw him, she forgot to breathe. He wore dark slacks and a steel-blue, button-down shirt, with a button left opened at the top. He personified casual elegance, and she suddenly felt dowdy—the way Cinderella must have felt before her fairy godmother showed up.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  Her eyebrow rose in disbelief, but then Emma glanced down and remembered that Sam had dressed her tonight, so maybe she did look good. She ran her palms down the soft fabric of the pink and black flared skirt and adjusted the coordinating scarf at her neck. “Thanks. Sam let me borrow a few things. She even did my hair.” Emma twisted around to show Kevin the intricate knot that Sam had configured earlier. “Isn’t it pretty?” Come to think of it, maybe Sam was her fairy godmother. Her sweet, teenaged, fairy godmother.

  “You’re pretty,” said Kevin, and Emma froze with her back to him. He’d sounded so genuine, so… His fingers closed around hers, gently spinning her back to face him
, and Emma’s breath caught yet again. If he continued to touch her and say things like that, she’d have to find an oxygen tank before the night was out.

  His hand dropped to his side, releasing her fingers, and he looked beyond her. “Where are the girls?”

  “They had a better offer. Sam invited them to watch a movie and have a sleepover at her house. They were so excited that they rushed out of here without even giving me a goodbye hug.”

  “Don’t take it personally. Sleepovers trump everything else in kids’ eyes.” Kevin cocked his head toward his running car. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” Emma locked up the house and followed him out.

  Inside the car, she breathed in the scent of new car, wondering if her car had ever smelled so nice. The leather seats felt warm and cozy, and Emma settled into hers, knowing Sunshine would never feel the same. That was the problem with experiencing “new”—it made it that much more difficult to return to normal. Or, in her case, old. Really old.

  Emma found herself wondering if “normal” guys would be ruined for her now as well. She was used to dating run-of-the-mill sedans or compacts, and Kevin—well, he was luxury.

  “Your lawn looks nice,” Kevin joked as he pulled from the driveway. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d hired a professional.”

  “Considering I’ve had more experience mowing lawns than the person who usually does it, I can see why you’d think that.”

  “Ouch.” Kevin hit his fist against his chest. “You wound me, Emma.”

  The way he said her name always turned her insides to something resembling goo. “Oh, c’mon,” she said, subtly pressing her palm against her stomach to ward off the butterflies. “You’re better at everything else. Just give me the lawn, okay?”

  He chuckled. “Okay, fine. You can be the better mower. But I think it’s a pretty safe bet to say that you’re also the superior artist. I can’t even draw a decent stick figure.”