under my chair and open it to the business section. We
sit like that for a full hour, and together we finish the entire bag of
cookies.
Chapter
Eleven
Hartley
“So
kid,” he yawns when we’ve both finished. “Looks like we forgot to unpack.”
He
looks over at the piles of boxes then back at me as he raises his arms above
his head and stretches. The bottom of his t-shirt lifts up a little revealing a
scrap of brown skin at his waist. I stand up and quickly collect the teacups. I
was hoping he wouldn’t remember about the unpacking.
“I’m
going to stick around this week and have a look at the rest of my properties
here,” he says as he picks his keys up from the table and puts them in his
pocket. “I can come by in a couple of days to take a look at the repairs. I can
give you a hand then.”
I
think about all of the stuff I’ve been mindlessly buying since I arrived in
Twin Heads, not to mention the things that have been arriving daily by mail
thanks to my insomnia fuelled visits to the world of online shopping. If he
looks in those packages, he’s going to see how scattered I really am.
“Ummmm,”
I say, trying to think of something I’m doing this week. Anything. But nothing
comes to mind.
“The
thing is,” I mumble, looking over at the box that I know contains twelve gold-rimmed
dinner plates decorated with realistic hand painted insects. Thinking about
them reminds me that I still don’t own any bowls and tomorrow I’m going to have
to eat my cereal out of a mug, again .
“What’s
the thing Hartley?” he smiles, raising his eyebrows at me. He knows I’m
stalling.
“Fine,” I sigh. “But I’m doing my clothes. You
don’t get to touch my underwear.”
“No
problem,” he laughs without missing a beat. “I don’t want to touch your
underwear anyway.”
“That’s good,” I say smiling sweetly, “then
we’re both agreed. No one will be touching anyone’s underwear.”
There’s
a flash of heat in his eyes, but it only lasts a second before it’s gone, and
the corners of his mouth are twitching in amusement.
“Is
eight o’clock Friday ok with you?” he says as he starts to move towards the
door. “I’d like to get started early so I’ll have time to get to the hardware
store and back.”
Suddenly
I’m thinking about what eight o’clock means back in Jefferson. It was the time
I used to meet my dad for breakfast before work every day. It was a routine we
started on my first day at Preston Industries. Sourdough toast and two
scrambled eggs for me, eggs, salmon and spinach for dad. I wonder if at eight
o’clock tomorrow morning he’ll be sitting at our table alone.
“Or
you can keep sleeping if that’s too early,” Crew says quickly. “I won’t make
any noise, I’ll just be making a list of the stuff I need.”
I
shake off the memory and look up to meet his eyes.
“Oh,
it’s not that. Sorry, I was thinking of something else. I’ll be awake.”
He
looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face and for a moment I think he’s
about to ask me why I really moved to Twin Heads. But then he just sighs and
jiggles the keys in his pocket.
“I’ll
bring breakfast,” he says, turning to go. “Any requests?”
I
look at his back as he places a hand on the knob and pulls the door open. The
muscles in his shoulders move under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He has a
broad back, a swimmer’s body – all shoulders and chest and long, lean muscle.
“A
bagel would be great.” I smile, looking up to meet his eyes when he turns
around again.
Outside,
shadows are creeping up my front garden, and the chill is back in the air.
“Sweet
or savory?” he asks running his hands over his arms to keep warm. I wish I had
a car so I could drop him home.
“I’ll
have your favorite one,” I say and step back inside the house.
He
smiles and starts walking down the path, quickening his pace to a jog once he
steps out onto the pavement.
“You
may regret
sit like that for a full hour, and together we finish the entire bag of
cookies.
Chapter
Eleven
Hartley
“So
kid,” he yawns when we’ve both finished. “Looks like we forgot to unpack.”
He
looks over at the piles of boxes then back at me as he raises his arms above
his head and stretches. The bottom of his t-shirt lifts up a little revealing a
scrap of brown skin at his waist. I stand up and quickly collect the teacups. I
was hoping he wouldn’t remember about the unpacking.
“I’m
going to stick around this week and have a look at the rest of my properties
here,” he says as he picks his keys up from the table and puts them in his
pocket. “I can come by in a couple of days to take a look at the repairs. I can
give you a hand then.”
I
think about all of the stuff I’ve been mindlessly buying since I arrived in
Twin Heads, not to mention the things that have been arriving daily by mail
thanks to my insomnia fuelled visits to the world of online shopping. If he
looks in those packages, he’s going to see how scattered I really am.
“Ummmm,”
I say, trying to think of something I’m doing this week. Anything. But nothing
comes to mind.
“The
thing is,” I mumble, looking over at the box that I know contains twelve gold-rimmed
dinner plates decorated with realistic hand painted insects. Thinking about
them reminds me that I still don’t own any bowls and tomorrow I’m going to have
to eat my cereal out of a mug, again .
“What’s
the thing Hartley?” he smiles, raising his eyebrows at me. He knows I’m
stalling.
“Fine,” I sigh. “But I’m doing my clothes. You
don’t get to touch my underwear.”
“No
problem,” he laughs without missing a beat. “I don’t want to touch your
underwear anyway.”
“That’s good,” I say smiling sweetly, “then
we’re both agreed. No one will be touching anyone’s underwear.”
There’s
a flash of heat in his eyes, but it only lasts a second before it’s gone, and
the corners of his mouth are twitching in amusement.
“Is
eight o’clock Friday ok with you?” he says as he starts to move towards the
door. “I’d like to get started early so I’ll have time to get to the hardware
store and back.”
Suddenly
I’m thinking about what eight o’clock means back in Jefferson. It was the time
I used to meet my dad for breakfast before work every day. It was a routine we
started on my first day at Preston Industries. Sourdough toast and two
scrambled eggs for me, eggs, salmon and spinach for dad. I wonder if at eight
o’clock tomorrow morning he’ll be sitting at our table alone.
“Or
you can keep sleeping if that’s too early,” Crew says quickly. “I won’t make
any noise, I’ll just be making a list of the stuff I need.”
I
shake off the memory and look up to meet his eyes.
“Oh,
it’s not that. Sorry, I was thinking of something else. I’ll be awake.”
He
looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face and for a moment I think he’s
about to ask me why I really moved to Twin Heads. But then he just sighs and
jiggles the keys in his pocket.
“I’ll
bring breakfast,” he says, turning to go. “Any requests?”
I
look at his back as he places a hand on the knob and pulls the door open. The
muscles in his shoulders move under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He has a
broad back, a swimmer’s body – all shoulders and chest and long, lean muscle.
“A
bagel would be great.” I smile, looking up to meet his eyes when he turns
around again.
Outside,
shadows are creeping up my front garden, and the chill is back in the air.
“Sweet
or savory?” he asks running his hands over his arms to keep warm. I wish I had
a car so I could drop him home.
“I’ll
have your favorite one,” I say and step back inside the house.
He
smiles and starts walking down the path, quickening his pace to a jog once he
steps out onto the pavement.
“You
may regret
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