He stands up and takes the next plate from me. But he doesn’t bend over and put it in the dishwasher. “You’re right. Not many would.”
I grin. “See? Great boss.”
He gives me a wry look. “I have to be honest, though. I’m not sure I’d do it for Lucky and his goldfish.”
I force the butterflies to go away and not take up residence in my chest or my stomach. He’s just being funny.
“Well, he’s a guy. And he’s been highly trained.” I take the plate from Ozzie’s hands and put it in the dishwasher myself. I’m not going to let this thing turn into a flirtation. We can be adults sharing the same living space without things getting silly.
“I’m not sure I’d do it for Toni either,” he says.
Now I’m not as certain he isn’t saying something about us. I try to laugh it off anyway.
“She’s highly trained too.”
“Yeah, she is.” He puts the next plate in the washer. Then he leans over and grabs my sponge from the edge of the sink and leaves the kitchen to wipe down the table. The scent of him lingers, and I breathe it in quietly.
I’m sad he’s left the conversation, but happy to have a moment to gather myself. Wow. He’s saying I’m special. He didn’t go so far as to say he likes me, but I’m definitely getting that impression.
So what do I do? Ignore it? Play it off? Send him signals that I’m not interested? Send him signals that I am? I really need to talk to my sister. She’ll know what to do.
“Do you mind if I go upstairs to make a phone call?” I ask, wiping my hands dry on a dishtowel. “My sister gets kind of freaky when she doesn’t hear from me in the evening.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll finish up down here. Then I’m going to get on my computer in the living room, if that’s okay.”
I wave my hand around. “Oh, sure, no problem. My password’s stuck to the front of my computer over by the window. Do whatever you want.” I put the dishtowel down and try to walk casually over to the staircase. What I really want to do is run, pounding up the stairs as I dial my sister’s number and give her a blow-by-blow recounting of my entire day, gushing like a schoolgirl. But I need to act like the adult I am and have some control. It’s not that big a deal if Ozzie wants to sleep with me. We’re both consenting adults. It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with him.
I lock my bedroom door and put on some music, just in case he has plans to try and listen in. My sister picks up on the third ring.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
You were supposed to call me earlier,” she says in a scolding tone.
“I know. I’ve been crazy busy with work.” Felix jumps up on the bed and curls up in my lap. I stroke his tiny head and ears absently as I focus on my sister.
“I guess that’s good news. You’re talking about your new job, right?”
“Yes. How are the kids?” I need time to figure out how to broach the subject with Jenny about Ozzie being here. I’ll distract her with talk about the children while I do that.
“Good.” She sighs. “Miles is coming to get them next weekend, or so he says.”
“That’ll be nice for you.”
“If he shows.”
“What will you do with two whole days to yourself?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Take a bath with a bottle of wine. See a movie. Get my nails done. Sleep for twelve hours straight.”
“Call me if you want company for any of that. Except the bath. I’m done taking baths with you.”
“You could sit on the toilet and keep my wineglass full.”
“Yeah, I suppose I could do that.” I smile. I would totally be my sister’s bath-time wine filler-upper. It’s the least I can do for the girl who taught me how to ride a bike and tie my shoes.
“So, what’s up with you?” she asks. “How’s the new job going?”
“Pretty good. I’m getting some training.” I decide not to tell her about the surveillance stuff in detail. She’d worry too much. “Took some pictures. Did a little hand-to-hand combat.” Oops. Probably should have held that back too.
“What, what? Did you say combat?”
I laugh, thinking about Dev crumpling to the floor. I hope it doesn’t make me a sadist that I find that so amusing. “Yeah, there’s this guy Dev, the one I told you about before, the really tall one . . . he tried to sneak-attack me today, but I had a weapon ready, so he lost.”
There’s a long silence before Jenny responds.
“Babe, I’m worried.”
My mood falters. “Why?”
“Actually, I’m not sure whether to be more worried about the fact that your colleagues are attacking you or that you think it’s no big deal. They’re both very disturbing situations to any normal person. You used to be normal. What has that place done to you?”
A picture of Ozzie standing there with his arms crossed over his chest pops into my head. Ozzie happened to me, sister. It was Ozzie.
“I’m totally fine, really—I promise. Actually, though, I do need your advice about something.”
“Does it relate to this crazy workplace?”
Now I’m nervous. Maybe this was a mistake calling her. She’s already being kind of judge-y. “Yyyeeeesss.”
“I’m listening.”
It’s too late to do anything but confess. I try to keep my tone light so she won’t panic overly much. “Ozzie’s staying at my place temporarily.” Yay, good plan; yay, me! Jump right into the deep end without any warm-up!
“Oh my god! Are you serious?!” At least she doesn’t sound too angry.
“It’s kind of complicated.”
“Do you like him? Does he like you? Have you guys had sex yet?”
“Ack, no! Stop! Just listen.”
“Okay, I’m listening. Just remember, though, that I have no life, so anything you have going on is going to seem way more exciting to me than it probably is.”
I laugh. “Okay, good. Thanks for the warning not to take your enthusiasm to heart.”
“That’s not what I meant, but go ahead. I can’t wait to hear the details.”
“Remember that night I was texting him, and I thought I was texting you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that guy who was shooting a gun that night in the bar—I can identify him. And Ozzie’s worried that the guy might be able to figure out who I am, so he’s moved in here just until they can assess the threat.”
“Threat.”
“Don’t say it like that, Jen. Seriously, it’s no big deal.”
“I’m preeeeetty sure it’s a really big deal, actually.”
“No, it’s not. I promise. I have a great security system, I have Ozzie and his giant dog here, I have Felix . . .”
“Who’d be really good at maybe puncturing the skin around a murderer’s ankles, assuming he isn’t kicked into a wall first.”
“Now you’re being mean.”
“This isn’t meanness, May; it’s called sisterly concern. And like I said before, I think this new job has twisted your sense of reality. When a gunman comes after you to find you, he kills you. He uses bullets. He doesn’t walk up to the door, ring the bell, and have a conversation with you first. He can get you through a window or a wall, even. It’s true. I’ve seen it on real-crime TV.”
Her voice reminds me of my conscience. They have the same tone and everything.
“Well, this is my life, Jenny. I saw what I saw when I was out rescuing you and the kids, and I can’t undo that.”
“That’s totally unfair, blaming this on me!”
“I’m not, I’m not.” I take a breath to calm myself down. “Or I don’t mean to. I’m just saying, it’s fate. That wrong-number text coming to my phone when you were buying a new phone, me going to Frankie’s where Ozzie was working undercover, me being a photographer when they need a photographer—it’s all fate. It’s meant to be.”