I crossed my arms and huffed in the back seat as Troy paid the cashier.
He pulled up to the pick-up window and a few seconds later passed a soft-serve cone to his grandfather. He placed the fries in his lap, and grabbed my coffee from the attendant.
Troy turned and handed it to me. “Are you seriously still mad because of something I did in high school?” he asked. “We’re pushing thirty. There are worse things to worry about in the world, you know?”
I shrugged. “You’re giving me an attitude and calling me plain and bitter. Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get over it.”
“Well, maybe I’ve been on defense because you’ve been looking at me like you want to kill me from the moment you recognized me.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware it was that obvious.”
He flashed his sparkling white teeth. “So, you do want to kill me…”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I just…” I let out a breath and stopped talking.
He pulled into a spot and put the car in park. Then he popped a fry into his mouth before turning to me and holding out his hand. “Let’s have a truce, okay? Might as well, since we have to spend four hours a week together.”
God. That sounded like a lot of time to have to deal with him. But I could certainly pretend to be cordial for my sweet client’s sake. I would do it for Mr. Serrano.
I finally took Troy’s hand and shook on it. “Fine.”
My traitorous body enjoyed the warm touch of his skin, and that made me disappointed in myself. It proved how instinctual physical attraction could be. Troy Serrano’s sex appeal had never been up for debate. Not then and not now. It was his soul that was questionable.
I was ashamed to admit that before Jasmine had started dating him, I’d actually had quite a crush on Troy. He was the quintessential popular football player. And I was exactly the type of girl who was invisible to guys like that. My head was stuck in the books, not up the asses of jocks. I never wore makeup or flaunted myself in skimpy clothes like Jasmine and many of the other girls did. But I still had eyes, and I was only human. When Jasmine talked about what it was like to be with him, I remember the ache of wondering what that might feel like. Then he hurt her and became Enemy Number One to me.
After a few minutes, Troy started the car again and drove down the road as Frank Sinatra continued to play. The smooth music was a stark contrast to my heightened nerves. The next song was “Under My Skin,” which I found to be terribly ironic, considering Troy had definitely managed to get under mine today.
I could see Mr. Serrano’s face in the sideview mirror. He looked so content eating his ice cream and listening to his favorite music. If only life were that simple for all of us.
“Where are we going now?” I asked.
“The mall,” Troy answered.
“What’s there?”
“Stores,” he deadpanned.
“I know.” I gritted my teeth. “But is there a specific place we’re going?”
“Nonno just likes to browse,” he said, observing me through the mirror. “Why the long face? They have a Disney store. I can drop you off there if you want, Goofy.”
“And this truce of yours has lasted all of what? Three minutes?” I blew on my coffee.
“It’s still on. I just like messing with you. I mean, come on, you’re wearing freaking Goofy scrubs. That’s like asking for ridicule.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he was right.
When we got to the Meadowbrook Mall, Troy parked and got Mr. Serrano’s wheelchair out of the trunk. Once Mr. Serrano was settled, the three of us walked together from the lot to the main entrance, which was right by the food court.
Inside, Mr. Serrano decided he wanted cinnamon pretzel bites, so we ventured over to the Auntie Anne’s kiosk and waited in line.
My eyes landed on Troy’s expensive-looking watch, then traveled up to his muscular forearm and the veins lining it. A waft of his scent momentarily overpowered the smell of the cinnamon.
“You want some?” Troy asked.
“Hmm?”
Want. Some?
Oh.
The pretzels. Right.
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t eat sugar.”
His eyes widened. “You don’t eat sugar at all? What’s there to live for, then?”
“4 PM,” I said.
He grinned. “Ah. It took me a second. 4 PM. The time after which you no longer have to grace me with your presence.”
“You got it.”
Several seconds passed. “How did you end up working at Horizons anyway?”
The truthful answer was not something I’d get into with him. This job had never been my dream, by any means. But I felt lucky to have it after several years of feeling lost about my career path. Working at Horizons was the career I’d settled for after many lost opportunities.
“I sort of…fell into it,” I said.
“What exactly do you do there—besides babysit men you hate on mall trips?”
“I’m the activities coordinator.”
“What does that entail?”
“Booking field trips, arranging transportation, and leading in-house activities, among other things.”
“Sounds kind of fun.”
“I’ve grown to like it.” I shrugged. “Anyway, you…seem to be doing well for yourself. What is it that you do?”
“I’m a financial advisor—creating personalized financial plans, executing trades in the market, and coming up with tax strategies, that kind of thing. My firm is based in Seattle, where I live, but I can work from anywhere, which is why I’m able to be here temporarily. They started transitioning everyone to mostly remote a couple of years ago.”
“When did you come back to Meadowbrook?”
“I’ve only been here a month. Not my choice, really. But someone needed to keep an eye on my grandfather. My dad just retired early from the fire department and planned a trip to Europe with his girlfriend. He needed peace of mind while he was gone. He felt guilty about leaving Nonno, so I told him I’d move here for a while and hold down the fort so he didn’t have to worry.”
“Well, that’s…commendable.”
He smirked. “It pained you to say that, didn’t it?”
“A little. How could you tell?”
“You had this look on your face like you were constipated when the words came out. Your disdain for me doesn’t take a break, even when you’re giving me a compliment.”
“I’m sorry if I can’t hide my reaction to you. When someone hurts my friends, they hurt me.”
“Okay, but you got me back, didn’t you? All that crap you pulled? Keying my car?”
“There’s no comparison between hurting a person and hurting a car.”
“Don’t forget about the donuts. You could’ve easily hurt me if I’d shit myself to death.”
I fought laughter. “What do you want me to do? Look, I told you I wasn’t proud of my actions back then. They were extremely immature. We’ve agreed to a truce, but that doesn’t mean I can just instantly forget about the bad blood of the past. That will take time—more than the half hour we’ve been together. Yes, it was forever ago, but somehow it still seems like yesterday.”