In Her Way (5 page)

"Shit, did Em buy a lemon or something?" I stand up to inspect the thing.

Neve shakes her head as I look back to her. "It seems Kaylee buttered her toast before popping it in. When it warmed up, the butter dripped down onto the element and caught the whole mess on fire." Her words are soft and slow as if she's choosing them deliberately. She holds my gaze for an intense second while I figure it out.

"Oh," I say. Oh! I think. Butter? In the fucking toaster? What the hell? I look over at Em who seems to be hearing the same thing I just did. Her head juts forward and then she turns her face to the wall before I can tell if she's angry or laughing.

Kaylee wipes at her nose and looks up at me. "I just thought I might save some time buttering my toast first since I'm handicapped right now." Her shoulders sink forward and a few new tears drop into her lap.

I definitely do not bring up the fact that buttering bread takes the same amount of time before as after toasting. I also don't bring up the fact that hurting your lower back does not make you handicapped. Furthermore, I don't care how many customers she's gotten us at the moment. I can't afford more stuff like this.

She shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Maddox. I didn't mean to ruin the toaster. I'll totally pay for it, for everything." She motions to the room with her hand, though I'm not sure what she means by "everything" or how she could afford the payment for the fire department visit on a minimum wage salary.

"It's okay. No worries. I'm just glad everyone's okay."

The firemen clear out (not before one of them chats up Em for a while and leaves with one of her cards), we toss the toaster, and send the girls home for the day. But Em and I don't leave. We sit in the lounge in silence for a minute or two.

"So." Em shakes her head.

"So." I rub my hands over my face.

We spend the better part of an hour looking over our finances, moving things around, and nipping things here and there so we can at least begin to pay down the bill we're sure we'll get for today's visit. When we're done, our shoulders are slumped forward and my mind is still reeling about my part in this whole thing. Sure, Kaylee put the buttered toast into the toaster, but it was me who went off and considered the possibility of a relationship with Andrew -- the one thing I knew for sure I wasn't going to do if I was getting into this dental practice game. I suppose it serves me right for even dreaming.

I sigh and clean up.

"I thought you'd bought a lemon of a toaster at first," I say as we're leaving. We stop by the front door and look around the office.

She shakes her head. "The toaster was definitely not the lemon." Her eyes go wide and I can't help but wonder if my statement from earlier still holds. It sure doesn't smell lemony fresh in here anymore.

6

Pancakes and Prevention

Em talks me down from firing Kaylee and the next day we focus on getting back into everything. We've just a few last minute things to clean, unwrap, take care of, or plan. The girls are busy as bees, even with Kaylee crab-crawling around with her crutches still, and by 9:30 we've got a Stella-sized groove back (sans the sex with a younger gentleman).

The tiny bell Em installed on our front door rings. Who could that be? I start toward the front in case it's a customer that's here to inquire about our practice and might want to talk with me.

I stop short when I hear a deep, melty voice ask if Jules is in.

Andrew.

My stomach erupts in nervous bubbles and they start popping uncomfortably right away. What do I do? Turn him away? Face away from him dramatically and tell him I can't see him anymore?

I panic and run back into one of the little exam half-rooms, pretending to pull up a file on the computer. I can hear footsteps making their way back to me.

"Jules?" Holy hell, why does his damn voice have to be so hot?

"Andrew! Hi." I open my eyes, turn, and smile. I stand at first, but quickly sit again because when I see him my legs feel all Jell-O-y underneath me. He's wearing a t-shirt, worn leather jacket, and jeans. No suit. And if it's even freaking possible, he looks even yummier than ever. (Damn my whole hang-out-clothes-are-just-as-cute theory!) His hair is all messy, too, as if he's been brooding over an idea and keeps running his fingers through it. My fingers twitch as they think of getting in there, too. (Hey, what happened to not-interested, Jules? Get it together! Remember your building almost burnt down yesterday due to that kind of thinking!)

He smiles and, yes, one eye is squinting more than the other, but it has no power (er -- little power) over me.

"I'm so sorry about yesterday." He walks forward and places a hand on my arm. "I feel terrible."

I shake my head. "Why are you sorry? It's not your fault." I furrow my eyebrows up at him and watch his face, knowing I'm not doing a great job of keeping my frustration toward Kaylee from showing.

His jaw tightens and he nods. "Sure, yeah. I know. I just -- well there's a feeling of responsibility -- I just wanted to make sure everything was really okay."

I lie. "We're good."

His eyes are still focused, making the thoughts going through his head look painful at best.

"Seriously." I nod emphatically. Just leave, man! I can't handle you this close to me!

"Kaylee said you sent everyone home early yesterday. Did you lose much time? Is there anything I can do to help?" Those stormy blue eyes scan the floor as if searching for something and then he meets mine again.

Dammit. My hand clenches the countertop. I suck in a deep breath.

"Um -- I..."

"Put me to work." He takes off his jacket (Holy biceps, Batman) and hangs it on one of the pegs we installed last weekend. "What can I do?"

"Well, um." I swipe at my hair and wrap my arms around my stomach. Shit. Where'd all hardened resolve go? He takes his jacket off and all of a sudden I'm incapable of thinking-- wait! Are his chest muscles like my Kryptonite? -- Oh, no that's Superman, not Captain America. Damn, I really thought that was going to be good. So what' s Captain America allergic to? I bite my lip as I think. Nazis?

"Jules?" Andrew leans in close and smiles as he watches me.

"Sorry. I --"

"You kinda zoned out there. Care to share?"

I wave my hand at him. "It's better if I don't --" I shake my head. "Okay, something for you to do with your muscles." I tap my fingernails on the counter and then stop once I realize what I've said. My eyes flick over to him and he's doing that fantastic hot guy move of pretending to wipe something off his face while really hiding a smile.

And I'm about to recover, really I am, when I see Em and the girls behind him, peaking around one of the walls. I make wide get-out-of-here eyes at them and Em mouths the words, "Holy biceps, Batman" (god, we've been spending way too much time together) as she makes fake grabby gestures toward him. I stiffen my face and make my eyes crazy looking so they'll leave, but I can't help smiling a little at her before she shoos everyone away.

Andrew looks behind him and then back at me, squinting. "I feel like you're doing it again, the spacing out thing. Or you suddenly got really angry about that wall behind me..." He's mumbling now and rubbing his neck in confusion.

I take a deep breath and remember that I am a single, powerful woman, whose hair is doing freaking fantastically wavy things today and who is wearing her favorite jeans. Plus, not dating Andrew doesn't mean we can't be friends. I really could use some help from a friend with a few man-type things. So here it goes.

"Sorry, no, I'm just tired." I smile my biggest, whitest, I'm a dentist smile at him and say, "The guys who put together our chairs and cabinets the other day were great (and cheap), but they didn't break down any of the boxes and I'm starting to feel like I live in a five-year-old's imagination when I walk out to the back."

Andrew wipe/claps his hands together and nods. "Got it." He turns to follow where I'm pointing, but stops and comes back for a second, turning his head slightly so he can whisper toward me only. "Playing in them before I broke them up would be...?"

I nod. "Frowned upon."

He winks and leaves. I can hear him jump on a few of the bigger boxes before the back door slams shut and I turn back to my computer and my made up task that I now need to turn into a real one.

The next few hours speed by because guess what, he's actually super helpful to have around. And working while he's working, knowing he's somewhere around and that I might see him at any second is fun and makes me feel all fluttery (in a platonic way, of course). Whenever we pass each other or he comes to see what job he can do next, we get to have a quick smile-at-each-other exchange.

On one of our passing by moments, I slip on literally nothing (possibly because I'm paying more attention to my new friend than my stupid feet), but he snatches his arm out and catches me before I fall. I yip in a surprised, but unfortunately not cute way -- more of a Julia Roberts shriek than the desired surprised-small-woodland-creature noise, and find myself swung around and in his arms. Holy shit that was smooth. My feet feel all slippery and unsteady.

Before I know what to do with myself, he's leaning in close, and I close my eyes because I was wrong about this friends thing. I can't do it. He gets close to me, wraps an arm around me, and I'm basically one big fancy dress away from being one of those chicks in all those old movies. I can smell that enigmatic guy cologne smell of his and feel his breath on my ear.

"Let's grab some brunch." I've never heard anyone say the word brunch so it sounds sexy, but Andrew has done it. I try to think of other normal things he could make sound completely dirty while nodding my head and opening my eyes.

"Sure." I try to focus as he launches me back up onto my feet, his hand on the small of my back to steady me. I fix my hair and look around for an open window or an ice bath.

"I'm thinking pancakes," he says.

"Pancakes, yeah. Those are... food." My mouth has officially broken, it's just spitting out words.

He nods and goes to grab his jacket. I head over to Em's desk in the corner alone and she makes the craziest clown smile at me when she looks up.

"We're going to get pancakes," I say, intensifying my eyes and making I'm-not-sure-how-this-happened face at her.

She doesn't catch on. "Um, and how many are you bringing back for me?"

I laugh.

She doesn't.

Andrew walks up behind me. "You getting their orders?" he asks.

My hope flutters to life again. Orders for the whole office? Maybe this isn't a date. It's just the two of us friends going on a food run for the staff.

I nod. "Yep."

We leave the office seven minutes later with three orders for small-stacks of pancakes.

"I'll drive," I say as I steer us toward my little white 2008 Toyota Yaris hatchback. To be fair, I needed something fuel efficient while I was going to school and I thought it looked cute, like I was driving around in a tooth. You know, dentist.

Em says it looks like a baby rhinoceros.

"Welcome to White Lightning." I flourish my hand and open the doors manually (because I did not spring for the automatic anything).

Andrew touches the handle when I unlock his side and pulls it away like it's hot. "Wow. Smokin' ride. Zero to sixty?"

I purse my lips together as I try to think back to everything my brothers taught me about cars, and then nod. "Probably," I say and then add, "From pure power, of course."

He laughs and we buckle up. I would like to include a glamorous conversation here where we decide between seven cute brunch restaurants in which we might procure our much needed pancakes, but there is simply Mae's Diner. It's the only breakfast place in town and on a weekend it will be packed with every person over seventy-four in the county until at least 3:00pm when they close their doors.

A wave of old lady perfume (strong, but super easy to identify as rose water, baby powder, and intensified flower scents) hits us as we swing open the heavy wooden door. My thought-worries were right, it's packed, and the small waiting area that doubles as a here-are-all-of-our-pies-in-a-glass-case area is crammed to the limit.

I stand to the side as Andrew goes up to the hostess and I'm feeling pretty great about getting over the whole him catching me fiasco that made me lose my conviction. I look up expecting Andrew to grab menus so we can just order to go, since this is an errand, not a date, but instead he puts our names in with the hostess and then we squish into a corner.

Oh no.

I feel hot and sweaty already, but then an old man bumps him from behind, pushes him closer to me, and he has to snap his arm up to help stop himself from falling all the way into me. He leaves it resting it on the wall behind me. I immediately cannot breathe. It's taking all of my might to not feel sexy feelings about this man. (I might even be sucking some energy from the old people surrounding us to keep the charade up because is it just me or are they looking paler?)

He's already 95% into my space bubble, but he leans forward all the way so I can hear what he's about to say.

"So are you feeling ready to open?"

"Oh. Ha! Yeah. I think." Unfortunately I say all of these things kind of loudly into his ear, but it pays off because he backs away a bit.

I bite my bottom lip in relief as he does, but this brings on a new problem. Now I can clearly see his face, the one that is all smiles and has these lovely three little lines that show up on his forehead when his eyes scrunch up all amused-like.

"Andrew, party of two?" the hostess calls across the waiting area.

It takes a full minute to extract ourselves from the corner, but when we're out, we follow her back to our table. We sit down and start flipping through the menu (or if you're me, fanning the heat off your face every few seconds when Andrew isn’t looking).

The kids’ section of the menu has these brightly colored woodland creature super heroes popping out of every corner and flying over food choices and it gets us into a pretty heated debate about the best superheroes. Luckily, that means I'm back in my comfort zone. Growing up with the comics and shows (brothers, remember) Wolverine was always my favorite, but I argue that Captain America has recently become of interest.

"Huh. People say I kinda look like him."

I smirk and my feet kick at the carpet under our table. "Really? Wow, I guess now that you say that, I can see it. Weird."

"Well, for me it's always been Batman, hands down."

What is it with guys and Batman? The deep voice? The fact that he literally has no super powers besides the fact that he's rich? I shrug my shoulders. Christian Bale has done some very sexy things with the character (though nothing will ever compare to
Newsies
, IMHO).

"Sure. He's pretty cool."

Andrew smiles and throws a sweet n' low packet at me.

I recover from the artificial sweetener assault and narrow my eyes at him.

Before we can get any farther into our comic book characters conversation, the waitress comes over with a pad of paper and a pen. Purely in a bid to maintain the friendly, not-sexy, vibe we've got going, I order a ton of pancakes. When they arrive, I stuff my face with fluffy sticky should-really-be-dessert-not-breakfast greatness to keep me distracted. It seems to work because before I know it, I'm stuffed, I've left behind a mess, and I’ve managed to avoid any more date-like feelings.

When we're finished, we walk out holding a solid three pounds of pancakes to-go, and I feel pretty confident that as long as I can keep Andrew a good two feet away from me at all times, I'll be able to keep up this friends-only stuff.

I have to, after all.