Alison
“Why did I say yes to this?” I’ve walked up to the front door of his building three times and walked away twice. “I shouldn’t be here.” This is wrong. But I really want to see Sky, not to mention the fact that I’m hungry.
I know, excuses, excuses.
In my defense, with all of the hullabaloo today, I didn’t get lunch. I ate an old granola bar that I found at the bottom of my purse. Plus I spent the afternoon talking with five more people, but I couldn’t get any real information out of them because all they wanted to talk about was Sam.
Correction: I did get some information out of them. I guess Sam getting injured has made some of them rather sentimental. A few tears were even shed as they regaled me with stories about Sam being the funniest, best boss in the entire world. I guess it’s possible.
Mo, one of the staff who works in the art department, said something kind of interesting. I almost missed it, but thankfully I didn’t. She said, “That poor man. I feel so sorry for him. He’s got no one. It’s no wonder he searches the break room fridge for something good to eat.”
The urge to choke a little bit was strong. And laugh. At least that takes off number three from my list of complaints. I wonder how many other people knew it was Sam stealing lunches. Probably everyone. I mean, who would complain about the boss doing something like that?
I guess whoever wrote up the green folder complained. And maybe they already knew it was Sam but didn’t want to name names. And if that’s the case, it’s reasonable to assume he or she knows who has been stealing ideas as well.
Now all I need to figure out is who created this folder.
“Oh, screw it.” With a deep breath, I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Ben. I’m here.
I don’t have to wait long for his reply. Be right down.
Thanks to the glass door, I see him as he jogs down a set of stairs just inside. I smile when I see him. I can’t help it, because he’s smiling at me. A very nice smile. I take a second to note his attire. He’s in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that has a logo of one of my favorite bands on the front. He looks good. Bonus, we like the same music.
“Hey,” he says, opening the door to me. Pulling it open all the way, he stands aside, gesturing for me to step in. When I do, he reaches out and takes my hand, kissing the top of it.
I’m sort of surprised by it. I mean, who does that these days? No matter, I love it. I know I must be blushing, but the guy—well, there’s just something about him that makes me feel all sorts of good things. Giddy, like I felt whenever I was with my first high school boyfriend.
He releases my hand and points to the stairs. “Come on up, beautiful. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I’ll follow you.” For one, I don’t know where he lives, so it’s natural for him to go first, and for another, I’m not ready to walk up first so the only thing he can see is my ass. Luckily, I also changed into leggings and a tunic, so my ass is covered.
Oh hell, I need to get over all that crap. After all, he seems to like me just as I am.
Entering his apartment, the first thing I notice is the smell. It’s wonderful. “Mm, Italian. It smells good.”
He’s already in his small kitchen when he chuckles. “Well, I’d love to tell you I made my sauce from scratch, but it’s from a jar.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” It’s what I use too. I look around the place and see it’s almost as small as my apartment. He’s got just enough room for a sofa and a chair. “Where’s Sky?”
“Right over here.” He comes around the tiny kitchen island and makes his way over to the corner of the room below a window.
I follow him and bend down when I see her in a dog bed. “Hey, sweetheart,” I coo. The poor thing looks like she’s been through the wringer. Her fur is shaved all along her spine, and the rest looks a little scraggly.
“I took her out right before you got here, but after dinner, we can take her out again.” Ben picks up a small water bowl and places it in front of her. Lifting her head, Sky laps at the water like she hasn’t had anything to drink for days. “Good girl,” he says to her softly. We’re so close to each other, our shoulders are touching.
“Here, I’ll hold this if you want to finish up dinner.”
“Sure,” he says, looking down at me.
Sitting on the floor in front of Sky, I hold the bowl for her as I pet her gently. Her dark little eyes are looking at me, and I swear she’s smiling. Yes, I know that’s crazy talk, but if a dog could smile, she’d look just like this.
“I think she likes me,” I say, turning my head to look at Ben.
“What’s not to like?” he says with a chuckle. “You’re kind, beautiful, and you smell pretty damn good.”
I feel the heat of a blush creep into my cheeks, so I quickly turn back to Sky. I’m not used to being complimented. Not the way Ben does it, anyway.
“Okay. Dinner is served,” he says cheerily.
Using the chair next to me, I push myself up and make my way to the kitchen area. “Wow.” I see he’s got two heaping bowls of pasta and sauce. Each bowl has a slice of toasted Italian bread on the side. Next to that are two small salads.
“I’ve got ranch and Italian dressings, so you can choose.” He looks at me quickly. “Unless you don’t like either of those.” He turns to his apartment-size fridge. “Maybe I’ve got more—”
“No. I like both of those.” Too much. Ranch and me, we go way back. “This looks amazing.” I’m not kidding. It really does.
“Great.” Ben’s smile almost takes up his whole face. Picking up both bowls of spaghetti, he adds, “If you want to grab the salads, we can eat on the sofa so we’re close to Sky. Plus we can watch a little news.” He stops suddenly. “Unless you’d rather not.”
I quickly shake my head. “No, it’s fine. It’s how I eat dinner every night.”
“If you’d rather talk….”
“Why don’t we turn the volume down so we can talk too?”
“Great plan.”
“What are you doing with Sky while you’re at work?”
We’ve taken Sky outside to go potty. It’s interesting how he uses the sling to help her stand upright while also keeping her from moving around too much. She does her business, which Ben says is exactly what the vet wants to see.
“I’m taking her with me on Monday.”
“Oh?” I’m actually surprised by that response.
“Yeah. I’m not bothering to get permission.” He shrugs. “It’s better to ask forgiveness, right?” He laughs.
“Will you take her every day?”
“No. The animal hospital lined up a place that does physical therapy. They’ll keep her there between treatments, and I’ll pick her up after work. But they can’t start until Tuesday.”
That sounds like a major deal. I can’t imagine how much something like that costs. “How long will she need therapy?”
“I’m hoping less than two weeks, but it all depends on how well she does.”