I was a zombie when I took a shower, using Rob’s toiletries—silly how much I enjoyed that. I shut the bathroom door afterward, hoping I wouldn’t wake him while I blow-dried my hair. So far, so good. Getting ready for work at Rob’s place, damn. I never thought we’d be here. Not that he’d called me his girlfriend or anything.
He didn’t stir when I got the rest of my stuff, so I tiptoed out and crept down the stairs. A bowl of cereal was as much breakfast as I ever had at my mom’s place, so I ate the same here. According to my phone, which I’d forgotten to charge, I had twenty minutes to get to work. Fortunately, that wouldn’t be a problem in Sharon.
Since it was ice-cold, the truck gave me five minutes worth of trouble, so I barely dodged in on time. My boss, Mick Davies, shot finger guns at me as I hurried to my desk. Based on the coat over his jacket, he’d only just arrived, too.
But he gave me a creepy smile anyway. “Two minutes later, Lauren, and we’d have a discipline issue.” The faint stress on the second-to-last word told me he had in mind a spanking more than a warning for my file.
Gross.
“But I’m on time,” I said, pretending I didn’t speak fluent pervert.
“So you are.” He faked a hearty laugh. “Bring me a cup of coffee, will you? By now, you know how I like it.”
A salesman caught me pretending to vomit into the trash can beside my desk, and he shot me a sympathetic glance. “I guess the boss is already here?”
“That’s why you get the big bucks.”
As I put on a pot of coffee, I thought, Maybe I should’ve left a note. I mean, Rob knew I had to work in the morning, but...better to be sure. So I texted, Thanks for last night. No reply, but he was probably still asleep. I put away my phone and took the chief butthead his morning jolt. Even though I hadn’t been at the dealership very long, some days I was tempted to spit in it. I reminded myself that jobs were hard to find around here, and that the hours worked perfectly for my summer school plans.
Everything was fine until just past lunch when Davies yelled for me from his office. I was chatting with an elderly couple whom I’d already ID’d as perpetual window-shoppers. With a frozen smile, I invited them to look around the showroom. Then I hurried to the manager’s office, bracing myself.
“What is it?” I asked, pausing in the open doorway.
“Come on in. Shut the door.”
Crap. I remembered Shelly’s warning and resisted. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Of course not, I just need to talk to you.”
My skin felt like it was creeping off my bones. I stared over my shoulder at the front desk. “Should I leave the phones unattended?”
“I’ll pick up, don’t worry.”
“Okay.” This situation should definitely be avoided. But I had no idea what to do about it. Nobody on the showroom floor took any notice of my predicament.
I sighed and did as the boss ordered.
Once I shut the door, I skirted his desk, staying well out of reach, then I took a seat on the other side, being careful not to cross my legs so he could see anything.
Davies admired me for a long moment anyway, making me feel dirty. “There you go. How do you like it here so far, Lauren?”
“The work’s fine, hours are great. The sales team has been friendly.” Actually, everything’s awesome but you.
Since his family owned the dealership, there was no chance of getting rid of Mick Davies. And there wasn’t even a proper human resources department where I could report a complaint. In a business this size, if I said anything, I’d just get fired for “unrelated” reasons. While that might be actionable, I couldn’t afford a court battle. Well, not and go to college like I planned. Some things sucked, but there was no fixing them.
“That’s fantastic,” he said, smiling. “How would you feel about some overtime? I need a personal assistant after hours for a very special project.”
“Dear God, no.” The words burst out of me before I could stop them. “That wouldn’t be good for the baby at all. Working the hours I do, plus college classes—that’s all I can handle, along with nurturing this miraculous new life.” I patted my gut protectively.
What the hell did you just say? Crap.
Maybe I could whisper to the accounting girls about a miscarriage in a few weeks, and hope word got back to him. Otherwise, I’d have to gain thirty pounds around the middle or buy one of those prosthetic bellies, which was just too weird and comedy caperish. Maybe this came from watching too many I Love Lucy reruns on TV with my mom, during her I-hate-the-whole-world phase. Back then, we were too poor for cable, and network TV loved Lucille Ball. But this stupid story was the only thing I could think of that might keep him from moving forward with what he was about to suggest.
Davies was not amused. His overtanned brow folded into a scary frown, making him look even more like a wallet. “You said nothing about this in your interview.”
“I didn’t know,” I babbled. “I just found out. My boyfriend and I couldn’t be happier, though. Maybe you know him? He used to play football for the Cardinals. I mean, if—”
“That’s enough, Miss Barrett. You’re not a good fit for the project after all.”
Ha-ha, I bet, you bastard.
I practically ran out of his office, beyond relieved to reach the sanctity of the front desk. Though I hated to ask, it might even be good to get Rob to come in, provided he was willing to play the role of baby daddy. Jesus, FML. It pissed me off, however, that I needed to trot a burly guy in to register myself as off-limits with Davies. Assholes like him had all the power.
Somehow I got through the rest of the afternoon without any problems. My mom wasn’t back from work when I got home, so I changed clothes and started dinner. It seemed like the least I could do since we hadn’t hung out as much, between Stuart and Rob. I had meat loaf burgers done by the time she walked in the door.
“Wow, something smells great.”
“You’re late tonight. Work stuff?”
“Yeah, there was a problem in the budget—” Whenever my mom talked about her job, the words pretty much all blended into white noise.
After we ate and cleared the table, she asked, “Do you want to watch some TV?”
I’d missed this, and since I didn’t know how long it would last, I nodded. “Sure, whatever you want.”
She picked a movie I’d already watched with Nadia, but I didn’t say anything. It was good the second time with my mom arguing with the characters, as if they could hear her. I remembered all of those days when I’d come from school, and she was too sad to get out of bed...how I’d leave food outside her bedroom, and there would be a dirty plate outside the door in the morning. Since I was a kid, I gave her stuff like peanut butter and jelly with a side of cookies, so she just got fatter and sadder. Some days, she didn’t come out at all, and I lived on whatever I could scrounge. Which could’ve been worse; I was eleven, not five. That shit went on for years. Nobody knew—not even Nadia—how bad my mom’s depression was. I tried to hide it, like it was a shameful secret, much as I did my own anxiety.
Mom caught me looking at her instead of the movie. “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m just happy, that’s all.”
“About what? Rob?”
“That we’re both okay,” I said quietly.
Her gaze dropped. “Me, too. I know it was rough around here, and I’m sorry I let you down. It’s a wonder you came out so well. No thanks to me.”
“You did your best at the time. It’s all anyone can do.”
“I really didn’t. I should’ve gotten help sooner, but...we couldn’t afford it.”
Nodding, I remembered how we’d done the shopping late at night, right before Safeway closed, so nobody would see her using vouchers instead of cash. Before my dad bailed, we’d sold the ol
d house, leaving enough cash to buy this place outright. Otherwise, God knew what would’ve become of us. Things got better when they hired her as a bookkeeper six years ago, and now she was in charge of accounts payable or something. She was in a much better place when I left, but the real change, along with the weight loss, didn’t happen for another year.
“We survived. That which doesn’t kill us, et cetera.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me, too.”
Once the movie ended, I hugged her and went up to my room. It was close to nine, and I realized my phone must’ve died at some point, so I plugged it in and got ready for bed. I had two messages waiting, one from Rob, and the other, surprisingly, from Avery.
Rob: Call me. That was time-stamped four hours ago. His messages were always sparse, and I didn’t picture him ever sexting me. Probably for the best.
Avery: Had fun last night, my turn to host. You and me, Krista and Jillian. Friday night. Can you make it?
I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to hang out with the girl who thought driving lessons equaled sex, but since Avery was a good sport about karaoke and she’d given Rob her blessing, I sent back, Yeah, what time?
Avery: 7:30, I’ll drive.
Me: Is there a dress code?
Silence from her, so I took that as a no. After brushing my teeth, I climbed in bed with my laptop, but before logging in to a game server, I called Rob. His text was so terse that I had no idea if it was important, or if he just wanted to hear my voice. The romantic junior high geek inside me fervently hoped this was the case, and maybe he’d also read me some poetry.
He picked up on the second ring, slightly out of breath. “Lauren.”
God bless caller ID for making me feel shiny. “You got me. What’s up?”
“Did you see my thingie?”
I smirked. “Several times.”
“No, on the web. The video channel.”
“Let me look.” Once I got on the site, I flipped through. “Wow, nice. Those are some excellent views, and you’re up to two hundred subscribers already.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you need to post another video, soon. I’ll come over tomorrow to work on it, if you want. How would you feel about taking your shirt off in this one?”
“Lauren.” His flat tone told me he wasn’t amused.
“Fine, we’ll save that for the membership drive later on.” I was only half-kidding. If he was doing this well already, given time, his furniture business should see some traffic. “Have you gotten any orders?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s not a bad sign. It’s easy to watch things on the internet—takes a little more to convince people to part with their money. We’ll get there.”
“I got two emails, though,” he told me in a bemused tone. “Well, lines, I guess. One said, ‘you’re so hot,’ and the other said, ‘I’ll pay you to build a bookcase in my bedroom.’”
“I think not,” I said.
“People on the internet are so weird.”
“Truer words.” Shit. While I had him on the phone, I had to tell him about our love child. “So...you have to promise not to get mad at me.”
“I don’t like conversations that start that way. But okay.”
As fast as I could, I summarized my encounter with Davies, along with my spontaneous, problem-solving lie. Rob didn’t say a word. The silence started to make me nervous, so I filled it with babble. “Anyway, most of the town thinks I’m knocked up anyway, so no big deal, right? I know you can’t be thrilled about being dragged into this, but—”
“Has he touched you?” Pure steel, no give.
“No. Just innuendos and slimy looks. I said all that stuff to put him off. So I was hoping you’d stop by tomorrow, if you have time. You don’t have to do anything. Well, maybe pretend to look at cars, and shake his hand too hard—”
“I’ll be there first thing. He won’t bother you again.” His tone alarmed me.
“Rob, I need this job. You know that, right?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, I am. You sound like you might pull his arm off and beat him to death with it.”
“’Night, Lauren. See you tomorrow.”
With that hanging between us, it was a wonder I slept, but the short night with Rob, plus work, left me exhausted. I was awake by six, though, a rarity, so I went down and got on my mom’s elliptical. It had been a while since I’d worked out, but I needed to occupy myself, and this was better than killing things online before work. Also, if I started gaming first thing, I knew myself, and I’d likely end up calling in sick. Not the best move when your not-boyfriend might be planning to bludgeon your boss to death.
Today, once I showered, I dressed in the pencil skirt I’d worn on the interview. I paired it with a pink sweater and I spent half an hour on hair and makeup. My mom got up late by contrast, racing out without drinking the cup of coffee I offered. The worst thing about driving Tessa Green-tea was climbing in and out in heels, plus she was cranky first thing in the morning.
I delivered the butthead’s coffee without being asked, but he was curt. No smarmy smile for me today. How sad. Apparently he couldn’t objectify me if I was breeding. I was grinning when I went back to my desk.
We had been open for no more than half an hour when Rob pulled into the parking lot. Unquestionably, I was biased, but he looked even better than usual in a red plaid shirt and an expensive-looking leather jacket lined with sheepskin. The scruff on his jaw said he didn’t shave this morning, and his mouth was set in a firm line.
He beelined toward me, ignoring the attention he was attracting on a slow morning. “Where’s your boss?”
“I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“You asked me to come, Lauren. Well, I’m here. Do you trust me?” That was so unfair since I’d asked him that before, and from him, the answer was always yes.
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
His eyes lightened, though he still looked grim. He no longer radiated murderous intent, just enough menace that one of the sales guys dodged out of his path as he strode toward the manager’s office. I wished I could be a fly on the wall for this conversation, but to my frustration, Davies shut the door when Rob stepped in, so I had no idea what was going on. I craned my neck, watching through the gaps in the blinds. Rob stood across the desk, arms folded, speaking quietly to Davies. Whatever he said made the older man tug at his tie and back up a step. Rob tilted his head, said something else. Davies nodded emphatically.
Then the conversation was over. Rob strolled back to me, completely at ease. “Problem solved. I made him understand my point of view.”
“Which is?” I whispered.
“I think you know.”
“That if he messes with me, you break his kneecaps?”
“Not exactly. But close enough.”
I sighed. “I wish we lived in a world without guys like that. If life was fair, I wouldn’t need you to threaten perverts for me.”
“It wasn’t a threat,” he said softly. “If he makes you uncomfortable, it’ll go bad for him. I’ll make him sorry.”
“Then you’ll go to jail. Not sure I agree with the merits of this plan.”
Weirdly, uncomfortably, two conflicting emotions wrestled around inside me: pleasure and dismay, the former because he’d hurt somebody for me, and the latter that I couldn’t do it myself. Rob was the kind of guy who solved problems with the tools to hand; he wasn’t a thinker. With him, you got a hammer-and-nail guy. And I didn’t really want to change him.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Rob winked. “He just has to believe I will. There are plenty of girls who don’t have psychotic boyfriends, and that bastard goes after low-hanging fru
it. The minute it looks like it might be tough, he’s out.”
“So you made me seem like more trouble than I’m worth.” For a guy who didn’t think much of his own brain, this was a solid plan, better than my having-a-baby gambit.
“Yeah. I think the twitch when I said your name was a nice touch.”
I laughed. “You’re amazing.”
“Just so you know, I’m about to kiss you, just to make sure you don’t have trouble with anyone else.”
“Marking your territory with an inappropriate PDA?” I teased.
“Unless you tell me no.” The softness in his eyes told me he’d listen.
“I doubt I’ll ever be able to say that to you.”
With Davies and the sales team looking on, Rob kissed the crap out of me. If he hadn’t let me go, I’d probably have banged him on the reception desk. He touched the tip of my nose and said loudly, “See you tonight.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Work was better the next day.
After my shift, I had dinner at Rob’s, then we shot another vlog. In this one, he was hanging cabinets. While I worked, he’d finished the formerly broken wall, so the archway was professionally framed, no longer a mess of broken plaster, bare wires and exposed posts. I asked a few leading questions to get him started, and once Rob was comfortable, he gave a great performance. He explained the progress he’d made since the last video and included the viewer in the project through body language and expression.
“That looks fantastic,” I said.
He smiled, though he didn’t stop until he finished with the installation. “This is actually kind of fun. Sorry to make you wait, but—”
“No, it’s fine. The kitchen will be done soon, won’t it?”
“Another week or two, depending on how hard I work.”
I surveyed the progress. The subflooring was gone, replaced by a gorgeous wood grain. Kneeling to touch it, I realized it wasn’t hardwood, though it was close enough to the dining room in shade that I doubted anyone would notice the difference.
“Vinyl?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s more durable and easier to clean, better for in here.”