“It’s okay. I have the money,” I lied. “Took some extra commissions this week.”
He studied me for a long moment, but I didn’t break character.
“Okay.” He glanced at his phone. “Well, I’m gonna head home and tap out the sitter. Kristen’s already on her way over with dinner.”
They liked to feed me. I think they thought if they didn’t, I’d starve to death. Six months ago I’d put my foot down and only allowed dinner once a week now. They used to be here every day, but it had started to get ridiculous. They had a baby and their own lives, and I didn’t want to feel like their responsibility. Kristen would never say it, but I think it was a relief. Either because she thought I was getting better or because she was glad she didn’t have to schlep over here every day. I’d filled my freezer with Lean Cuisines and shocked them both when I didn’t die from malnourishment.
“See you later.” Josh gave me a hug, ruffled Tucker’s ears, flashed me a dimpled smile, and left.
The dog laid his head back on my lap, and I peered down at him. I took my cell phone and hit the camera icon and snapped a shot. “I bet Jason would like to see some of your vacation pictures,” I said, thumbing a text into the phone and shooting the photo off.
Sloan: All worn out after a six-mile hike!
I set my phone down and lolled my head back on the sofa. Then my cell pinged.
Jason: I bet he loved it.
Another ping.
Jason: No picture of you?
I rolled my eyes. Sexy or not, he was a stranger. I wasn’t going to send him pictures of me.
Sloan: Do you think how I look is going to have any bearing on my ability to watch your dog?
The three little dots started jumping, letting me know he was typing a response. I smiled. I’d kind of liked talking to him yesterday. I sat up and tucked my feet under me as I waited for the reply. “Your dad’s a flirt,” I said to Tucker. He looked up at me with those soft copper eyes and then put his chin back in my lap.
Jason: You’ve seen pictures of me. I don’t think it’s that weird to want to put a face to a name. You’re watching my favorite person in the world and I don’t even know you.
I twisted my lips. He had a bit of a point. But still.
Sloan: You’re a stranger. You could be a pirate.
The dots began jumping again.
Jason: Aye, that be true.
I laughed.
Jason: Do you like games?
Where was this going?
Sloan: It depends.
Jason: On?
Sloan: On whether someone ends up drunk or naked at the end of it. I don’t like those games. I always end up the sober one, driving all the drunk, naked people home.
Jason: Not that kind of game.
Sloan: I’m listening.
Jason: Every day I can ask you one question to get to know you better. And if you don’t want to answer it, you have to send me a picture.
I shook my head while I typed.
Sloan: What kind of questions are we talking about? The yes-or-no, check-a-box kind?
Jason: Lol! No, too elementary school. Real questions. I can ask anything I want, and you have to answer it truthfully.
Sloan: Do I get to ask you a question every day?
Jason: Of course.
Sloan: And if you don’t want to answer it?
Jason: I’ll answer it.
Sloan: How about if you don’t want to answer it, you have to let me keep Tucker an extra day.
There was a pause between texts. The ceiling fan made a steady clicking noise above me while I waited.
Jason: Deal.
Sloan: Deal.
His questions were going to be perverted. I was almost certain. He wanted a picture, so he’d probably ask me things he thought I’d never answer. But the game was too alluring. And I liked the idea of asking this good-looking mystery man about himself. It was kind of fun.
Jason: Ready for my first question?
Sloan: Ready.
Jason: Why don’t you paint what you want to paint?
I stared at the text. I hadn’t been expecting that.
Had he asked it to throw me off? Had my weirdness over my art shone through in our brief conversation yesterday? I let out a deep breath. Now I kind of wished there were just yes and no boxes to check.
I decided to deflect him.
Sloan: Really? This question? Seems like a waste. You get a do-over.
Jason: Don’t want a do-over.
And then,
Jason: Wouldn’t mind a picture though.
My lips pursed. “Fine,” I muttered to myself.
Sloan: I haven’t painted my own works since my fiancé died two years ago.
The dots started to jump. Then they stopped. Then they started again.
Jason: I’m sorry to hear that.
There was a pause between texts while he typed again.
Jason: Sometimes the hardest place to live is the one in-between.
I blinked at the message.
“Yes…” I whispered.
The dots started bouncing again.
Jason: Your turn. What’s your question?
I was glad he was changing the subject. I didn’t want to talk about this. I thought about my question and decided I’d have a little fun with it.
Sloan: How would you survive a zombie apocalypse?
The dots jumped for several minutes. Then a text pinged, but just three words came through.
Jason: I’m calling you.
The phone rang.
“Well?” I said, answering without saying hello.
“My answer is too long to text.”
“You’ve given the zombie apocalypse that much thought, huh?”
“Haven’t you? It’s a serious situation,” he said sternly.
“Only a matter of time, really.”
I could tell he was smiling when he continued speaking. “Survival is all about going where there’s the least threat of other humans and zombies. We’d have to get to somewhere remote.”
“We?”
“You and me.”
“How do you know that I’m qualified to be on your zombie apocalypse survival team?”
“Are you?”
I scoffed. “Of course. But you didn’t know that. Do you always give out important jobs to people without checking their qualifications? It seems to be a thing with you.” I pulled a blanket over Tucker and me and grabbed my iced coffee, snuggling deeper into the sofa.
“You’re right. Totally right. Admission into my survival compound is contingent upon a satisfactory comprehensive interview, illustration of survival skills, and a thorough physical. I’ll be conducting the physical personally.”
I laughed, hard.
“Okay, so provided I’ve passed all of your tests, we’d be holed up in a rural—what? Cabin?” I asked, putting the straw to my lips, still smiling.
“Yes, on my property in northern Minnesota where we could live off the land until things blow over.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Live off the land? Do you know how?”
“Did you think Tucker was just a pretty face?”
“You hunt? With Tucker?” I looked down at him. Brandon would have loved a hunting dog.