business card for her heart, and with her gaze down she offered it to him. “In case you’re ever bored a four o’clock in the afternoon.”
Gently he smiled at her as he took it. “Like when I need a break from sink cleaning?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she agreed with a reluctant smile. Then she turned and looked at her car. “Well, I’d better get back to work otherwise it might be four a.m. before I get to go home.”
“Yeah, I’d better get this stuff in before Hunter blows a gasket.” He watched her get in the car, and then he stood holding the door and the food. “Drive carefully.”
Why was it so hard to just say good-bye? “Don’t let Hunter get to you.”
“I’ll try not to,” he said with a laugh.
“I’ll see ya.”
“Yeah,” he said, and very carefully he shut her door.
She started the car, waiting for him to slide out of the space between hers and the Trailblazer. However, when she backed out, he was still standing right at the edge of the car’s path, those white bags dangling from his hands next to his knees. Off-handedly she waved as her body traced down everything it liked about how he looked—those pants curved in all the right places, the jacket draped over those arms that she couldn’t get out of her head, and that smile, lop-sided and completely amazing. He waved. She did too—kind of. When she got to the street, she looked back. He hadn’t moved, and somehow, it was like she was destined to be watching him in that rear view mirror forever.
The next morning Lisa was still on his mind as Jeff went to his locker to grab his coat at 6:30 fully prepared to head out with the rest of the guys. However, Hunter had other ideas. How he accomplished hanging a whole open bag of flour from the locker door without getting it everywhere in the process, Jeff would never know, but the second he opened the locker, the bag ripped and white powder spilled out, hitting the ground at his shoes, and creating a cloud that drifted all the way up his clothes.
With two coughs he waved at the now-white air surrounding him as he looked through it to his cloths. Snickers and giggles erupted from the far side of the lockers.
“Nice,” Jeff said with a reluctant smile as Dante and Hunter peered around the end of the gray metal, fighting back the laughter. “Very nice.”
“Have fun cleaning that up. I’d hate for the chief to happen by and see it,” Hunter said, and he turned Dante toward the door.
A tired sigh escaped as Jeff looked down at the white lava floe still cascading from the locker onto his shoes. Carefully he picked one shoe up and then the other, and he walked over to the sink, knowing he was leaving a lovely white shoe trail behind him.
“Crud, Witkowski baled on me,” a short, middle-aged fireman said, coming into the room as Jeff pulled the trashcan over to begin the clean-up. “What am I going to tell Pat?”
“What’s the big deal?” the man’s colleague, a tall, brownish-blond goateed man about half-a-decade older than Jeff, said in a deep voice that resonated off the concrete walls. “I’m sure she’ll understand.” However, they stopped in mid-conversation when they turned at the lockers and saw Jeff scooping the flour from the floor and transferring it into the trashcan. “Problems?”
“You could say that,” Jeff said, wishing his voice sounded happier about the mess.
The goateed man shook his head in sympathy and turned back to the conversation. “Pat’s cool. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Understand what? That I’m going to miss her birthday again? Like I missed Valentine’s Day and Jenny’s spring play and our anniversary before that? Yeah, I’m sure she’ll understand.” The shorter man shook his mostly hairless head. “I just wish I could find somebody else to cover for me on Tuesday. At least it would stave off a divorce for another couple months.”
Jeff was listening as he cleaned, and although they would
Gently he smiled at her as he took it. “Like when I need a break from sink cleaning?”
“Yeah, something like that,” she agreed with a reluctant smile. Then she turned and looked at her car. “Well, I’d better get back to work otherwise it might be four a.m. before I get to go home.”
“Yeah, I’d better get this stuff in before Hunter blows a gasket.” He watched her get in the car, and then he stood holding the door and the food. “Drive carefully.”
Why was it so hard to just say good-bye? “Don’t let Hunter get to you.”
“I’ll try not to,” he said with a laugh.
“I’ll see ya.”
“Yeah,” he said, and very carefully he shut her door.
She started the car, waiting for him to slide out of the space between hers and the Trailblazer. However, when she backed out, he was still standing right at the edge of the car’s path, those white bags dangling from his hands next to his knees. Off-handedly she waved as her body traced down everything it liked about how he looked—those pants curved in all the right places, the jacket draped over those arms that she couldn’t get out of her head, and that smile, lop-sided and completely amazing. He waved. She did too—kind of. When she got to the street, she looked back. He hadn’t moved, and somehow, it was like she was destined to be watching him in that rear view mirror forever.
The next morning Lisa was still on his mind as Jeff went to his locker to grab his coat at 6:30 fully prepared to head out with the rest of the guys. However, Hunter had other ideas. How he accomplished hanging a whole open bag of flour from the locker door without getting it everywhere in the process, Jeff would never know, but the second he opened the locker, the bag ripped and white powder spilled out, hitting the ground at his shoes, and creating a cloud that drifted all the way up his clothes.
With two coughs he waved at the now-white air surrounding him as he looked through it to his cloths. Snickers and giggles erupted from the far side of the lockers.
“Nice,” Jeff said with a reluctant smile as Dante and Hunter peered around the end of the gray metal, fighting back the laughter. “Very nice.”
“Have fun cleaning that up. I’d hate for the chief to happen by and see it,” Hunter said, and he turned Dante toward the door.
A tired sigh escaped as Jeff looked down at the white lava floe still cascading from the locker onto his shoes. Carefully he picked one shoe up and then the other, and he walked over to the sink, knowing he was leaving a lovely white shoe trail behind him.
“Crud, Witkowski baled on me,” a short, middle-aged fireman said, coming into the room as Jeff pulled the trashcan over to begin the clean-up. “What am I going to tell Pat?”
“What’s the big deal?” the man’s colleague, a tall, brownish-blond goateed man about half-a-decade older than Jeff, said in a deep voice that resonated off the concrete walls. “I’m sure she’ll understand.” However, they stopped in mid-conversation when they turned at the lockers and saw Jeff scooping the flour from the floor and transferring it into the trashcan. “Problems?”
“You could say that,” Jeff said, wishing his voice sounded happier about the mess.
The goateed man shook his head in sympathy and turned back to the conversation. “Pat’s cool. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“Understand what? That I’m going to miss her birthday again? Like I missed Valentine’s Day and Jenny’s spring play and our anniversary before that? Yeah, I’m sure she’ll understand.” The shorter man shook his mostly hairless head. “I just wish I could find somebody else to cover for me on Tuesday. At least it would stave off a divorce for another couple months.”
Jeff was listening as he cleaned, and although they would
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