“Hello, Glenhollow Farms,” a man’s voice says. He sounds younger than Harold.
“Hi, this is Em. Who’s this?”
“Hey, Em, it’s Smitty. How are you? How’ve you been? Are you enjoying New York City?”
My stomach suddenly feels hollow. I do not want to talk to Smitty right now, but I guess I have no choice. “I’m okay. Just wondering how things are going over there. Do you need me back, by any chance?”
He laughs. “You’ve been gone for less than a day, and you already want to come back?”
God, he’s so irritating. “No, not really.” I lift my chin, annoyed that he’s laughing at me. “I was just, you know, wondering about the animals.”
“Everything is fine. Five of your regular long-stay visitors came in today, and they’re getting settled in. All the chores have been divvied up, and everybody seems happy to do their part. General consensus seems to be that it’s about time you guys had some time away from the farm.”
“Oh.” My heart plummets into my toes. I had no idea my life was so boring to people on the outside of it. Am I the only one who likes my life?
“You sound disappointed that everything is going so well.” I can hear his big, fat smile in his voice. I’d so love to throw some dirty straw in his face right now. He did it to me once when we were ten years old, and his payback is long overdue.
“I’m not disappointed.” I chew my lip, trying to come up with an explanation for my call that makes any sense. “Maybe just feeling a little useless.” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I don’t need to invite Smitty into my private life. He’ll probably see it as me making a move on him. He knows me well enough to recognize that I don’t volunteer personal details very often.
“Hey, if you want to come back, come back; this is your home. But don’t come back because you’re afraid to be there.”
I pull the phone away for a couple seconds to frown at it. Ugh . . . that word again: afraid.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say when the phone is back at my ear, offended that he’d say such a thing to me. Pfff. Like he knows me at all.
“You know exactly what it’s supposed to mean. You don’t like the city. You don’t like people outside of your little circle. You’re probably just looking for an excuse to come home because you’re afraid.” He laughs. “Bawk, bawk!”
My face goes hot. What is he . . . ten years old? Why am I even talking to this idiot? “You know what, Smitty? Shut up. You’re a jerk.”
He laughs. “I love you too, kid. So are you coming back or not?”
“No, I’m not coming back. I don’t need to come back there. I’m not afraid of the city. I love it here. I went to the September 11 Memorial today. And it was crowded. It was loaded with people from everywhere. Total strangers. It was very moving, too. Very emotional.”
“Oh yeah? I think I’ve read that about that place.”
I let out a long sigh at the laughter I can hear in his voice. He’s hopeless, and it’s pointless to be mad at him when I know it’s just myself I’m disappointed in. Smitty is right: I am scared. I don’t want to be, but I am. “You are such a boob. I’ll talk to you later.”
He laughs out loud this time. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up. Smitty’s wrong; he’s not going to be seeing me soon, because I’m staying here. And then when I get back, I’m going to avoid him like the plague he is. I chew my lip as I think about the space between the rock and the hard place I’ve just wedged myself into. I don’t want to do what Amber has ordered me to because she’s not the boss of me and I’m mad at her; but I’m also not going to give Smitty the satisfaction of chickening out. Ergh, this is so frustrating!
I really don’t have much of a decision to make. My sister wants me to hang out here with Sam? Fine. That’s easy enough to do. Heck, I’m already here and totally unpacked. So I’ll stay, but not because she expects me to. I’m staying because I know what it’s like to be dumped in Manhattan and left to fend for myself not knowing anyone, and quite frankly, it sucks. Sam might be cool with that kind of thing, but then again, maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s like me. He seems like a sensitive person who might appreciate having someone he knows nearby. And if that means I have to go do some touristy things with him, well, so be it. This has absolutely nothing at all to do with the fact that I think he’s handsome either. I sure hope he won’t think that. I’ll have to come up with a way to explain to him why I stayed behind so he doesn’t get the wrong impression.
Smitty and Amber are wrong about me. I am not afraid. Smitty and I may have gone out a few times, and we may have slept together once, but that doesn’t mean he knows me. Nobody knows me. The tiny mean-girl voice in my head is saying maybe even I don’t know me, but I ignore her; she’s full of shit.
I leave my bedroom on a mission. I’m going to notify my sister of what’s what and tell her not to worry, that everything is being handled. She can run off to be with her precious band and I’ll stay behind to handle things, just like I did when she left us to live in Manhattan. And then I’m going to go find Sam and ask him what he wants to do while he’s here, and we’ll make plans to do it. Every single thing he wants to do, from walking to the top of the Empire State Building to inline skating in Central Park . . . it is going to happen. I am going to be the best damn hostess anyone in this city has ever seen. Stranger danger . . . thhhppbbtt. Please. But first, before I do any of that, I’m going to use the bathroom, because my guts are suddenly in knots.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My sister’s door is locked, and I can hear her talking rapidly on her phone behind it, so I leave her alone. In the living room, I find Sam sleeping on the couch again. I get a glass of water from the kitchen and sit down on the chair next to him. As I swing my foot up to cross it over my leg, my toe bumps into the coffee table and wakes him up.
“Who’s that?” He’s instantly sitting up straight, looking out over the room in confusion.
“It’s me,” I say, signaling with a wiggling finger. “The hostess with the mostest.” I take a sip of my water.
He looks at me through squinted eyes. “What?”
“Have you not heard the news?” I’m trying to sound friendly, but it’s coming off as bitchy, so I try again. “My sister got a phone call.”
“From who?” He leans forward and rubs his eyes for a few seconds before falling back against the cushions and stroking his beard. He looks like one of the cats at my house, cleaning itself out in the sun. When he runs his fingers through his messy hair, attempting to smooth it down, it only amplifies the effect. Even when I’m mad, he’s cute, dammit. So not helpful.
“My sister got a call from somebody in the band. Their manager quit, and everything is falling apart. Apparently, she needs to go over to Japan and handle things.”
He leans forward and rubs his hands together, staring at his palms as he frowns. “She’s leaving?”
“Yes. She’s leaving.”
“Are you going too?” He presses his hands together between his legs and stares at the floor as he waits for my answer.
“No, my job is to stay here and keep you company.”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to do that. Unless for some reason your sister’s worried about me being here alone in her apartment.” He presses into his palm with his thumb, giving himself a massage of sorts.
I shake my head, anxious to get that notion out of his mind. “No, nothing like that at all. I planned to be here for ten days and my plane ticket isn’t good until the fifth, so I’m stuck here anyway. Don’t feel like you have to hang out with me or anything, though. You can just do your thing and I’ll do mine.” I should be relieved at this idea, but I’m not. I’m more . . . disappointed.
My brave notions of inline skating in the park are far, far away, now that I’m sitting this close to Sam. What was I thinking? Of course I’m afraid. Smitty was right about that. But he was wrong about the source of my fear; it’s not the st
rangers out there in the city . . . it’s the stranger in here who makes me nervous, who makes my pulse race, who makes me ready to jump and run with a look or a simple phrase. So why am I not ecstatic that he doesn’t want me to show him around town?
Sam sits back deeper into the couch cushions, stretching his arms behind him and lacing his fingers behind his head. “No big deal to me either way. Stay or go.”
It’s a completely natural thing for him to say, even polite, maybe, but it hurts. I feel so . . . unimportant . . . unwanted. I shrug, trying to act like I don’t care. “I’ll be busy painting, so you probably won’t see much of me.”
“Yeah, I’ll be writing music, so . . . yeah, I’ll be busy too.”
“Maybe I’ll just see you at the breakfast table, then.” I’m trying to put a happy spin on it, be cool about all of it, like he is.
He frowns and shakes his head. “Probably not. I’m more of a night owl.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” I’m not going to tell him I’m a night owl too sometimes, since he’s obviously brushing me off. “Maybe I’ll see you at dinner. Or not.” Ugh. I sound desperate for his company. Hopefully, he’ll understand that I’m just trying to be polite.
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
Well, I did my best. Clearly, we are not going to be having any deep conversations, and this ten-day period is going to be the longest one of my entire life. Of course I’m not going to leave town just because he’s rejecting my company. I don’t want him to think he has that kind of power over me, especially because he doesn’t. I’m definitely going to start out with a black background on that stupid canvas we bought today. I’m going to paint something dark. Something that matches my mood.
My sister appears in the doorway. “Did you get Sam up to speed on the news?”
“Sure did,” I say with a sunny grin. “We’re all set.”
“I’m really sorry this happened. If I could change this at all, I would.”
“Don’t worry about us. We’re big kids. We can handle it.” It’s possible Sam’s words are meant to be comforting, but his expression isn’t getting there at all. He looks annoyed.
It’s hard to believe he expected Amber to entertain him, so I can’t understand his emotion. “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I say, trying to fix the weird message he’s sending. “I’m going to paint and he’s going to write music. We’ll stay out of each other’s way.”
Amber sighs in relief. “Great. Maybe the two of you can help each other get your creative juices flowing. Anyway, I’ve got a flight out tonight, so I’m just going to grab a cab and head over to the airport right now.”
“Right now?” I look at Sam, wondering if he’s as surprised as I am.
Nope. He seems completely nonplussed. Cool as a cucumber, as usual. It’s almost as if he was expecting her quick disappearing act. God, I hope he doesn’t think this is some manufactured event, designed to get us together.
“Yeah,” Amber says. “It’s an international flight, so they take off in the evening. And I need to check in two hours before departure and get some things from the band’s offices before leaving too, so . . .” She shrugs.
I stand, placing my glass of water down on the coffee table. “How about if I ride over in the cab with you?”
“If you want to, that would be great. But it’s going to be a long trip for you. Maybe a couple hours headed back because of all the traffic.”
“That’s okay. I don’t have anything else better to do.” I realize after I say this that I just totally insulted Sam. Yes, Sam, sitting in traffic for two or three hours is way more interesting than talking to you. Oh, well. He’d probably say the same thing in my shoes. He’s already made it clear he has no interest in even sharing a meal.
“I’m going to head out,” Sam says, standing. “Do you have a spare key by any chance?”
“Yes, I do. Thanks for reminding me to give it to you.” Amber walks over to the kitchen and pulls out a drawer. She starts putting things down on the counter from inside it. “Here is a key fob for you to get in from the garage, Em. You’ll have access to my car and driver, who already has one, but you can also use a cab to bring you right to the back door to avoid any people outside. Also an elevator card.” She slides these things in my direction and then another elevator card toward Sam. “This is the key to the apartment.” She points to the plastic rectangle. “If you come in through the reception area at the front entrance, all you’ll need is this key card to get the elevator to work, and it opens right up onto our floor, as you saw earlier. They know you downstairs, so there shouldn’t be a problem with you getting access.”
She walks over to the intercom phone and picks it up. “But just in case . . .” She pauses, waiting for someone to answer her call. “Jeremy, hi. It’s Amber. I need to go out of town for a little while, so I just want to be sure before I go that you guys have it down there in the book that Sam Stanz and Emerald Collins are both allowed access to my apartment and this building while I’m gone.” She nods a few times and smiles. “Thanks so much. I knew I could count on you. Bye.” She hangs up the phone and turns back toward us. “Everything is all set. I’m just going to grab my bag from my room.”
I nod. “Go ahead. I’ll be right here waiting.”
After Amber leaves the room, Sam looks at me with a half smile. “I guess you’re going to get out of that shopping trip.”
I think this is his way of apologizing for being slightly rude. I smile, my own effort at making amends. “Yeah, I guess I lucked out there.”
“If you change your mind about wanting to go, let me know. I could go with you or whatever.”
I stare at him, totally shocked by his offer. “You’d go clothes shopping with me?”
Now he looks just as shocked as I feel. His mouth drops open, and he frowns in what looks like confusion. “Uh, no. I don’t know why I just said that. I hate clothes shopping. Or shopping of any kind, really.”
I’m glad it’s his fault that things are awkward between us this time. “Maybe you said it because you feel sorry for me.”
“Why would I feel sorry for you?”
I shrug, feeling silly that I said anything. “Because my sister is leaving when we should be spending time together? I don’t know.”
He waves his hand in front of him. “Just forget what I said. I’m overtired.” He leans forward and heaves himself up onto his feet with a small groan, stretching his arms up to the ceiling and exposing a sliver of his belly in the process.
I have to look away when it makes a spark run through me. Quick! Think of something cool to say! Don’t let him know you’re imagining him naked! “Did my sister show you what room you’ll be staying in?” Oh, God, what is wrong with you, Em?! Now he knows you’re thinking about his bedroom!
He walks through the kitchen without sparing me a single glance. “Yeah, I’m all set. I’ll catch you later.” He disappears into the big living room beyond, leaving me by myself with my sexy thoughts and total inability to be cool. I scared the poor guy away with my complete lack of finesse.
I stand in the sitting room looking around, wondering what the heck I’m going to do for the next ten days while sharing living space with a man who sends me riding an emotional roller coaster every time we start talking. I’m probably better off avoiding him and being creative instead. The problem is, I really don’t feel like painting anything right now. In all the years I’ve been making pieces of art, I’ve never been able to force myself to make something out of nothing.
The sound of Amber pulling a suitcase down the hallway cuts into my thoughts and throws them into the back of my mind. I have plenty of time to worry about that other stuff . . . about Sam. For the next several hours I’m going to be chatting with my sister in the backseat of a car, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We fill the cab ride with meaningless chitchat, both of us avoiding any conversation that will get us angry at each other again, up until the last fifteen minutes,
when the first airport signs come into view.
“What are you going to do with Sam?” Amber asks out of the blue.
“With Sam? What do you mean?” Just hearing his name makes my pulse quicken. I don’t think it’s because I’m afraid of him either. Some distance has clarified a few things for me, the first being that I find him incredibly attractive and the second that I find him intriguing. Go away, complications!
“I mean what I say. What are you going to do with him? Where are you going to go? What are you going to see? Are you two going to hang out? Are you going to do some tourist stuff together?”
She looks so hopeful, I almost feel bad shaking my head no. “Amber . . . would you get real, please? You know very well we’re not going to do anything of the sort together. Or separately, for that matter.”
“Why not?” She sounds genuinely disappointed. “You seemed to get along really well today.”
“Yeah, until I tackled him out on the street. That was really impressive. I’m sure he’d love to go do that again with me.”
She lifts my skirt to look at my knee. There’s a purple bruise covering half of it. “That was a pretty nasty fall, huh?”
“Yes. And totally weird. I just need to stay clear of him and spare us both any further humiliation.”
She puts my skirt back down, sighing. “Could you please just try? For me?”
“Try what?” She is so frustrating. I don’t know what she’s asking me to do, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.
“Try to . . . I don’t know . . . figure him out. Sam and Ty have this totally iffy relationship. It was a really big deal just getting Sam to agree to come out here and try to do this job for the band, and he and Ty haven’t even really talked yet. I can’t even get Ty to give me the whole story. I’m not sure he knows what it is. If you could do something to help smooth over the situation, I would owe you . . . like, a million favors.” She puts her hand on mine. “I know this is a big ask, but I was thinking if you two got to know each other a little bit, you’d feel more comfortable around him, and he’d see what a great girl you are and how sensitive you are, and maybe . . . I don’t know . . . he’d respond to that.” She pauses. “He’s an artist too, you know. Like you. Maybe you two speak the same language. From what Ty has told me about Sam, I think it could be possible.”