“How are you?” he asks over the heads of the two women in front of me.
“Good. You?”
“Great. Did you get my voice mail?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” My grimace is genuine.
After thinking all weekend about being with Dylan, I was too distracted to remember to return Toby’s call. Also, the whole SUV thing at Maxwell’s Gearheads got to me. I didn’t know if I was being paranoid. I needed to see if Jordy had any news about the license plate. Maybe I could turn it in to the cops.
Toby looks around the crowded place. “Grab us a table and I’ll get your coffee. We can talk.”
I shake my head. “Oh, that’s really nice. But I have to study.”
“Perfect. I need to study, too.”
The old geezer at the counter still hasn’t made up his mind. How complicated can it be? It’s coffee, dude. Not a political election.
“Emerson?” Toby raises an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Toby loosens his moss-colored scarf and points at the far corner of the room. “Last chance. One table left.”
My gaze follows his to the sole table. It looks like an oasis in my sea of panic. It’s my chance to recoup the lost time I spent over the weekend worrying over the break-in and the guy in the SUV.
“Okay.” Giving up my place in line, I beeline to the one empty spot. The small round table is pushed into a corner, placing both the chairs close together. I take one chair and move it a couple of inches to the left. We’ll still be practically sitting on top of each other.
It takes a minute to remove my coat and lay out my book and highlighters. Then I block out everything but the chapter for the quiz.
My stats book is marked with notes in the margin. I write down everything the teacher says in hopes that the ink will magically decode and imprint on my brain. It doesn’t really help.
I’m deciphering a formula when Toby moves his chair out and takes a seat. “I ordered us both a latte. Hope that’s okay. I’m not sure what you like in it.” He tosses a variety of packets onto the table.
“Oh sure. Thanks so much. What do I owe you?” I grab the sugar and pour the entire thing into my coffee cup.
“Coffee’s on me. What were you frowning so hard about?” He tips up the cover of my textbook. “Ah, stats. I told you I could help you with this.”
I roll my eyes. “Can you sneak in and take it for me? That’s the only thing that will save me at this point.”
“Show me what you’re studying.”
I turn the book toward him. “Formulas. Like this one. Variance of the difference between random, independent variables. Do you think the stats genius who came up with this could make this formula name any longer?”
He leans over and positions the book so we’re both looking at it. “Let me help. Show me the chapters your test is over and the things giving you the most trouble. I’ll tutor you until you’re comfortable with it.”
“Toby, you have your own studying to do, right? I can’t let you do that. You’re way too nice for your own good.”
“My stuff can wait. This is what a guy like me calls a golden opportunity. Damsel in distress needs help with classwork.” He hangs his head for a moment, and then glances up at me sheepishly. “I have an ulterior motive. I’d like something in return.”
“Oh yeah?” I respond, my tone filled with hesitance and regret. Don’t ask me out again. Please don’t. It’s really a pity since I need help with this class so badly and he’s hot and extraordinarily nice and the list could go on like an Oscar acceptance speech.
“Can you look over my resume for me? I have a job interview coming soon for...well...it’s actually an internship and—” Toby rocks back in his chair, grinning, and he takes in my puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”
My face heats and I hope he can’t read my didn’t-see-that-coming look. “I...umm...sure. I can.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh yeah.” Except for the fact that my vanity seems to be larger than a small country. Surely there is a topic less mortifying than my off-target assumptions. “What are you interning for?”
“Engineering firms work with the university and take on students. But it’s like a job interview. You still have to apply and be selected.”
“Very cool.” I take a sip and savor the latte. I usually only buy the regular and less expensive brew—plain old coffee.
“Yeah, it’s great.” Toby grins. “The only bad thing is that I’ll be even busier if I get something. I might have to give up Folks’ Auto.”
I nod. “I feel for you. I totally understand not having enough time to do everything.”
“I hope I can still spend time at home with Diesel.”
I raise both eyebrows, questioning who this might be. “Diesel?”
“Yeah. The dog you helped me bring home. You have no idea what you’ve done to me. One minute I’m living the bachelor life, no responsibilities, no hassles. You come into my life and bam, I’m scheduling walks, buying dog biscuits, paying for obedience classes. Guess I’m trying to give Diesel all the things he’s missed out on in life.”
“Um hmm.” A smile spreads across my face at his declaration of hardship. “Sounds like he picked exactly the right owner. By the way, I like the name Diesel. No other dogs will mess with him. I mean, it’s a badass name.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds. His eyebrows bunch and he taps one finger on my stats book. “Seriously, though. I really need help with prepping for my internship interviews. I need a good set of eyes on my resume. I’ll tutor you and you help me with the stuff I’m bad with.”
“You’re getting the raw end of the deal.” I shake my head, resigned already.
“I warn you, I’m a terrible speller.”
I tilt my head and give him an is-that-the-best-you’ve-got look. “Spellcheck will take care of that.”
“Not really. So, want to come by my place?” He blows on the top of his coffee to cool it.
I hesitate, and then look around the coffee shop. “We could meet here.”
“Oh, okay.” He stares at the table and then his gaze flicks up. “I had something else I wanted to ask you about.”
“Something you can’t ask here?” I raise an eyebrow.
He bobs his head and looks away, his mouth tipping up at a corner as if he’s embarrassed. “I had to buy an interview suit. And I had a hard time knowing what to buy and this sales girl convinced me that I needed all these different shirts and ties. She said I could take them all home and bring back the ones I didn’t want to keep. It made sense at the time.”
I’m smiling at the picture he’s painted. This guy should not go shopping alone. Ever.
“Emerson, I really need help. I can’t afford to keep everything and it was stupid for me to think I could shop for that kind of thing alone. I need someone like you—somebody honest—to take a look.”
I eye Toby’s ripped jeans, Doc Marten boots, and red flannel shirt. “I guess I can sacrifice my time in the name of fashion.”
He smiles, his mouth against the lip of the coffee cup.