Little Miss Lovesick (8 page)

CHAPTER 8

THE next couple days consisted of catching up on work from the weekend and getting ready for another three-day weekend. (Boy, I really know how to schedule my vacations, huh?) Emily and I didn’t have time to see each other because she was doing the same thing, but we always had time to talk on the phone.

“Just say no, Syd,” she said when I called her Tuesday night. “It’s that simple. I remember how stressed out you were when you worked for him last winter. You don’t need that.”

“I know, but I made almost $30,000 on that sale.” I ate chocolate chips out of a bag while we talked. “And he’s married now.”

“Then have him meet you at the office. Or make sure his wife will be home. The money’s not worth the stress if it turns out he’s not so reformed.”

That particular period of my life was not what I wanted to think about. Bad enough that my boyfriend was completely unsupportive of my problems with a touchy-feely client. But Dirk got all bent out of shape about my insistence that all the money go into our House Fund. Said it was the man’s job to provide for a house. Said I should buy something pretty for myself. Suggested a flat-screen TV for watching movies together. Hmm, in retrospect, maybe the TV thing was a warning sign in our relationship.

In the end, he convinced me it would be better to buy my Kia Sportage with cash and not have to worry about the $400 a month payments since real estate is such a feast or famine kind of business. Now I had no house (which I probably would have by now if I still had that money) and no man providing one.

But yo
u
d
o
have an opportunity to replenish the House Fun
d
, said a Voice.

Price tag
,
sanity, said Sarcasm.

I decided to think about it until GT called back, and make a decision then. Or maybe after we had our first meeting.

Thursday, Trent reminded me about lunch while we were standing in the kitchenette. Before he knew it, two more co-workers had invited themselves along. Trent did not seem one bit happy, but he was too polite to say anything. Me, I was afraid to say anything for fear the others would think Trent and I had a thing going. So the four of us went to lunch and, honestly, had a pretty good time.

Back at the office, though, Trent followed me to my desk. “So, have any plans for dinner tonight?”

Boy, you give an inch…

I laughed nicely. “I’m still full from lunch.” I sorted through my messages.

“Going to lunch with the whole office wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you earlier.”

I started to interrupt, but he held up his hand and kept going.

“Just in case I’m not being clear, would you like to have dinner with me, just the two of us, tonight?”

I stared at him for a moment. Sweet Trent had a backbone, a trait I admired in a man.

“I can’t tonight,” I said in a tone that conveyed my willingness to consider a different date. That was as helpful as I could be right now. Getting back into the dating scene, knowing what to say and when, was harder than I remembered.

Trent’s expression softened a little and he moved a step closer. “How about after the weekend, say Tuesday?”

I smiled a little and turned back to my paperwork. I was afraid I might be blushing, which was too ridiculous. “I don’t have anything Tuesday night.” I looked back at him.

“Right after work, beat the Happy Hour crowds?”

“Sounds good. Where do you want to go?” My chest tightened. I was really going out on a date. Oh geez, I didn’t know if I could do this.

“We’ll figure it out then. Someplace fun, I promise.” He smiled and walked away, looking inordinately pleased with himself, I might add.

As for me, I was having an attack of serious nerves. Time to finish things up and start the long weekend.

Emily met me at my apartment just before lunch Friday. Our plan included nothing more than ordering a Crusted Creations pizza to go and then lying out in the sun all day at Clinch Park beach. Ahh…bliss. I told her about lunch with Trent and next week’s dinner.

“Way to go! See? I told you flirting is a self-esteem builder. Now you’re out there again. Good for you!” Emily gave me a big hug, which almost made me cry. I mean, you know your friends love you, but sometimes you reall
y
kno
w
they love you and it kind of takes your breath away for a moment.

I laughed a little to keep from crying as I hugged her back. “You’re such a good friend, Emily.”

We lathered on the sunscreen and talked while we sunbathed. It was perfect 4th of July weekend weather — hot enough to want to be in the water, but not a scorcher. Brilliant blue sky, a couple of pretty white clouds drifting along, and the smell of dozens of barbeques. The beach was ridiculously crowded because of the holiday. But we were in the portion that had been roped off for Em’s company picnic. No kids to kick sand on us. Yee-ha. So it was startling to be lying there, eyes closed, and hear a voice so close.

“Hey, Emily. Not doing any fishing today?”

I looked over as Emily literally jumped into a sitting position. “Geoffrey!”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He laughed, a deep, rich sound. Nice. I didn’t know who this guy was, but he was pretty easy on the eyes. Thick wavy blonde hair, brown eyes, a face that looked like it smiled a lot. Very nice.

“You didn’t,” Emily said breathlessly. “I mean, you did, but that’s okay. What’re you doing here?” This man had Emily’s undivided attention. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her so flustered. S
o
breathles
s
. Interesting. I continued watching the conversation, not even trying to pretend I wasn’t riveted.

“Same thing you’re doing here, I’d guess. Is there room at the inn?”

I looked around at the rather large roped off area we were in. But neither Em nor Geoffrey the Mystery Man even glanced at the open sand. I considered pinching myself to be sure I hadn’t fallen asleep and dreamed us into a soap opera.

“Sure, of course.” Emily glanced at me quickly, eyes wide. I sat up and tried to figure out what to say or do to help.

Before either of us could move, Geoffrey had unrolled his beach towel right next to Emily. He put his cooler and beach bag at the top of the towel, then stood and stripped off his shirt and shorts. Emily and I gaped.

He was breath-taking with his hard muscles flexing under perfectly tanned skin. “Adonis” came to mind. And not because I was reading a romance novel. He was simply that gorgeous.

As he sat down, he looked at Emily and his smile faltered. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing, no. It’s just — I’ve never seen you without—”

Emily! I wanted to scream at her, don’t say it!

“—without a tie.”

Whew! Good save.

His smile returned as he looked her over. “Yeah, I’ve never seen you without—” He gestured at her navy blue bikini and straw hat. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

I giggled. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t see Emily’s face, but I could hear the big, fat smile in her voice.

They both looked over at me like they’d forgotten I was there. Which I also found vastly amusing.

“Oh! Geoffrey, this is my best friend, Sydney. I’ve told you about her.” Emily gestured toward me while talking to him, then turned to me. “Syd, this is Geoffrey. From work.” Her eyes pleaded with me not to ask questions. Yet.

“Sydney, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s great to meet you.” He leaned over Emily to shake my hand. I saw her bite her lip as she stared at his face, inches from hers.

Who was this man who could turn poised Emily inside out? And why hadn’t I heard of him? “It’s great to meet you, too,” I said.

Moving back to his own towel, he saw Emily watching him. His smile became a great big grin. She grinned back and started to turn red. I couldn’t believe it. Emily blushing!

An hour went by before Em and I could get two minutes alone to talk. By then, more of her co-workers had arrived and Geoffrey was engaged in conversation with two of them. She and I walked down to the water’s edge and put our feet in to cool off.

“Emily!” I squeaked. “What’s with Mr. Hunk-a-licious?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Isn’t he di
-
vin
e
?” she whispered.

“Come on, give me the thirty-second version before he follows you over here.” I glanced over to make sure he was still out of earshot.

She looked, too, and smiled like she was a fairy tale princess seeing Prince Charming for the first time. “We work together, but he’s all-business, all the time. I couldn’t figure out how to talk to him about anything else. Then one day he started talking about this fishing trip he went on and how much he adores fishing.”

I put the pieces together in my head. “So you decided to learn to fish.”

She giggled again. (It was so weird. Em doe
s
no
t
giggle.) “Yeah. Then on Tuesday, I told him I’d just got back from a fly-fishing trip in the U.P. We had lunch together the last couple of days and talked about fishing and…stuff.” She looked over at him again. “Now he doesn’t seem to have any problem talking to me.”

“He definitely likes you,” I told her emphatically.

Her head zipped around and she looked me in the eyes, her face a cloud of doubt. “Do you think so?”

I laughed. “Emily, look at him. He’s looked over here twice already. He put his towel next to yours the moment he got here. He came early probably to see if you were here. And he smiles at you every time you look at him. He’s smitten.”

She sighed. “Oh, my. Me, too.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed with a mix of laughter, food, and shoptalk, capped off with an amazing display of fireworks over West Bay. Geoffrey (not Geoff, Emily made a point of telling me) kindly included me in the conversation when the three of us were together, and Emily introduced me to a bunch of her other friends and co-workers. During the fireworks, though, I eased myself away a bit in case the lovebirds wanted to take advantage of the romantic moment in the dark.

It was nice not to be the needy one for a change. Nice to be the person who tries to do kind things for her friends. It was one of those days when I genuinely liked myself. And there hadn’t been a lot of those in the last six months or so.

Em and I spent most of the rest of the weekend together, shopping, swimming, sunbathing, and of course, talking about Geoffrey. Now that the secret was out, Emily couldn’t shut up about him. Which amused me to no end.

We were going to have lunch after church, but she called me about twenty minutes before we were supposed to meet.

“I’
m
s
o
sorry. Please don’t be mad, but I’ll do anything for you if you wouldn’t mind canceling our lunch.”

Since I was in the car, driving to meet her, my first thought was, you’ve got to be kidding me. But then I realized.

“He called, didn’t he?”

“He did! About a minute ago! Oh, Syd, you don’t mind, do you?”

I chuckled. She sounded desperate and happy. “Of course not. But if he starts coming between us, I’m going to have to take action,” I teased.

“You’re the best! I owe you! Wish me luck!” And she was gone.

Now, what to do about lunch? For about ten seconds, I thought about calling Trent. I mean, we’re friends. We just had lunch. We’re having dinner next week. What’s the big deal?

I put my phone away. The big deal was that this “maybe I’ll start dating again” idea was going way faster than I was ready for.

CHAPTER 9

TUESDAY morning, GT called to schedule a meeting to discuss buying a “cottage” for his mother-in-law.

He chuckled. “Darlin’, you don’t know how bad I hafta find one. Quick! Or she may move in with me and my bride. That would certainly cramp my romantic style.”

I laughed a tad uncomfortably. Oh dear. Do we know each other well enough for this conversation? But…this is what I do. I smiled into the phone. “I completely understand. We’ll make it a priority.”

Hey
!
yelled a Voice in my head
.
What happened to “I’ll think about it” or “No”?

House Fund, think House Fund.

Nah, House Fund or not, I loved my job and I wanted to see if I could help GT find what he was looking for. My parents and Dirk had always pushed me to get into higher end real estate, or move to commercial properties. They wanted me to have a reputation as a go-getter, a successful business woman — and no doubt they thought making a ton of money was the only real proof of success. But I was more interested in finding people houses that could become homes. Didn’t matter to me if it was a little fixer-upper first home or a multi-million dollar summer home. It was the “home” part that made me happy.

My parents, God bless them, were very interested in appearances, and that’s probably why they liked Dirk so much. We lived in a really nice house with lots of antiques and fancy furnishings. The dining room was covered in plush white carpet, so we only used it when we had guests — special guests. It sat empty about 360 days out of the year. That was how I grew up — don’t touch, don’t go in there, don’t walk there, don’t, don’t, don’t. I was determined to push people to make their houses into homes, to relax and be happy.

GT finally found a place that made him happy last time I worked with him. It was a challenge to see if I could do it again.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he said when I agreed to work with him. “I’ll fax over my specifications today and you’ll pick me up tomorrow at my cottage. Meet me there at 2:00 and we’ll get to work.”

I raised my eyebrows. My style is more along of the lines o
f
askin
g
people if they’re available rather than ordering them around. But…deep breath…just chill…I gave him the agency fax number. Checking my calendar belatedly, I was relieved to find it clear in the afternoon. GT’s take-charge attitude had thrown me. I was used to being the one in charge. My usual clientele tended to have no idea where to begin in a house hunt.

Remember, he was like this befor
e
, a Voice reminded me
.
And he just kept getting worse.

Well, now I know what to expect, so I can make it work this time. I’ll find him a house without losing my mind. I will.

When Carmen handed me the fax from GT, well…oh my…

I finished scanning it and carefully read it again. Did a house like this even exist? No wonder he was willing to pay me a bonus to find it. I thought about calling GT back and telling him this was impossible. But no, I wouldn’t quit that easily. I’d tell him in person tomorrow.

It’s best to meet clients where they’re comfortable. You find out what they really want, not just what they say they want. (Trust me, there’s a big difference.) I’d find out what he wants, get it for him, move on to the next client. Okay, no worries.

I hit the spacebar on my keyboard to shut off the screensaver and clicked on my MLS online. (The Multiple Listing Service is a realtor’s primary tool of the trade.) I read, scanned, printed, and searched for the next three hours. I called over to That'sa Pizza for lunch and ate it at my desk in the nearly empty office. One way or another, I was going to begin our meeting on the right foot — with a folder full of possibilities.

The day went by quickly, as busy days do. I must’ve gotten two dozen phone calls. Trent called around three-thirty to remind me of our dinner plans that night. I was surprised to find myself eager to get going.

Workplace romance is working for Emil
y
, mused Little Miss Lovesick
.
Maybe it can work for us.

She didn’t sound convinced. Neither was I. But I was still looking forward to dinner.

As it turns out, I had good reason. He didn’t hang on my every word, but Trent was attentive. He was charming as he argued with me occasionally. He was sweet and funny. More relaxed and confident than I’d seen him before.

And completely spark-fre
e
, complained Little Miss Lovesick.

Yeah, well, it’s only one dinner. Give it time.

The sparks starte
d
wa
y
before dinner wit
h
Matt, she pointed out.

It was a bad idea to use that man to create your lis
t
, mumbled Sergeant Pride.

I was getting a little defensive with myself. It’s a good list. And Trent’s scoring high.

“So…” Trent said. He smiled at me and I smiled back. “Think you can handle dessert? They have the best Italian ice cream you’ve ever had.”

I looked at my to-go bag next to me. Half of my lasagna cooled inside. I looked back at Trent — who had no to-go bag. “Do you have a hollow leg?”

He laughed. “You have to admit, the food is good.”

“It’s great, but I really don’t think I can eat any more.”

Trent waved the waitress over even as I spoke. “We’ll have one dish of the Italian ice cream to share, please.”

“You do have a hollow leg.”

Trent shrugged. But the last laugh was on me. He was right. The ice cream was so good, I at
e
at leas
t
half of it.

By the time he dropped me off at my car back at the office, we’d been talking and eating and laughing for four hours. I don’t know why I kept feeling so surprised to be having a good time.

Probably because of You-Know-Wh
o
, said a Voice.

I’d been reading the Harry Potter books again and it made me laugh to think of Dirk and the evil Voldemort in the same category.

“What’s so funny?” asked Trent as I searched my purse for my keys.

I looked up. No mentioning past boyfriends. Completely taboo. “I can’t believe I’m playing the part of the stereotypical woman who can’t find her keys,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Sure they’re not in your pocket?”

I patted the front of the Capri pants I had on. Sure enough. I pulled them out and jingled them in front of Trent’s face. He took them and unlocked my door.

“Women,” he sighed.

“Gimme my keys, please.” I held out my hand and he dropped them in.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said, standing next to my open door.

“Me, too.” I smiled, then looked down at my keys. I wasn’t sure what to do or say. Again.

When I looked up, he was smiling at me. No stomach flips, but still nice. I could do worse. In fact, I had.

I don’t think you’re supposed to have to try this hard to like someon
e
, said Lovesick.

It’s not hard to like Trent. He’s very likable. I like him.

It’s not the sam
e
, she sighed.

“So…” he said.

“So…”

“Big day tomorrow?”

“Kind of, yeah.” Was I supposed to just stand there and wait for him to leave, or could I get in my car? Was he going to kiss me? I wasn’t sure I wanted him to, but I didn’t want him to think I didn’t want to kiss him. That seemed rather…rude.

“Guess I should let you go then.” He stepped back so I could get in.

I turned on the engine and rolled down the window before I closed the door. He leaned against the doorframe and watched me buckle my seat belt. “Thanks again, Trent. I had a great time.” Once again, surprised that I meant it.

“Me, too. Thanks for coming.” He remembered something and looked past me.

“Got your leftovers? Yeah, you do.” The bag sat on the passenger seat next to my purse. “I guess I’ll be seeing that again tomorrow.”

I stuck out my tongue at him and slapped his arm. He laughed and jumped back.

“What? There’s nothing wrong with that. My mom is the queen of leftovers.”

“Yeah, that’s what every woman wants, to be compared to someone’s mother.” I rolled my eyes.

He laughed. “See you tomorrow. Drive safely.”

I pulled out and waved as I drove away. My plan to choose to feel better seemed to be working. It wasn’t all fireworks and chocolates, but it was nice. I really couldn’t complain.

Then I wil
l
, said Lovesick.

I DROVE straight to GT’s from home Wednesday morning. I was used to GT canceling and rescheduling, so I half-expected my cell phone to ring telling me to turn around and go home. I probably wouldn’t have turned around though.

The sun sparkled over West Bay as I drove up Peninsula Drive. The water reflected the brilliant blue of the sky. The grass and trees shone in a dozen shades of green. This was one of the prettiest drives in town. If I didn’t have to work, I’d keep going until I reached the lighthouse at the end of the peninsula, maybe take off my shoes and walk along the beach up there.

Maybe another day. I could see where I was headed from a half mile away. The right side of the winding lakeshore road was lined with pickup trucks. Pulling into the driveway, I maneuvered around a backhoe and parked under a tree. Looked like more than a simple renovation to me, but then GT had a fondness for doing things in a big way.

I took the folder of listings from the seat beside me and climbed out. I didn’t bother rolling up the windows — which after two years in Traverse City, still amazed me. In Lansing, I wouldn’t have even gone to the ATM without rolling up every window and locking all the doors. But I liked this small town feel.

I picked my way carefully around to the back. (The front door was covered with a plastic drop cloth.) I wore my favorite sandals with a stylish cotton blouse over Capri pants. Professional, yet comfortable. The sandals, along with the rocks and debris in the driveway, reminded me of sliding down that gravel trail in Abundance Creek. Better be careful. No one to catch me here if I fell.

I found another door, obviously the one being used by the construction workers. A large piece of dirty carpet lay haphazardly in front. GT had told me to knock and walk in since it might be noisy. I knocked and heard a “come in” that I guessed was directed at me. I walked in and shut the door behind me, having to move the chunk of carpet a bit with my foot to get the door closed all the way.

I had entered the kitchen, also being remodeled. A man at the counter studied some papers, making notes. From the look of him — T-shirt and jeans, hardhat, scribbling away on what may have been floor plans — I guessed he was the foreman, maybe even the contractor. He probably knew where GT was.

“Hi, do you happen to know…” I didn’t finish my sentence, but my mouth was still open. Wide open.

The foreman’s head shot up in surprise as soon as I began to speak. He didn’t say anything. He just stared.

It was Matt. Right there in front of me. Not in a fishing lodge. Not hours and hours away. Not in a dream. (Ignore that. No comment.)

Right there in GT’s kitchen. With a hardhat on.

“Sydney!” He took a step toward me. “What — what are you doing here?” He looked shocked and maybe a little pleased to see me. Not unlike what I was feeling at the moment.

“What ar
e
yo
u
doing here?” I looked again at his hardhat and the floor plans. “You’re a fishing guide,” I reminded him. Like he had forgotten.

He smiled that really cute smile I remembered from the very first day, the one with the dimple in his left cheek.

“Yeah, sometimes. I’m a general contractor the rest of the time.” He took another step closer and looked at me like I was water in the desert. It felt like that to me, anyway.

“But why are you here?” Not that it mattered. He wa
s
her
e
. Who cared why?