Mr. 365 (4 page)

“Yes, as a matter of fact that’s what I want to talk to you about. This guy’s a puzzle, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

“A puzzle?”

“For one thing, he’s got a hard-edged look, in a tough guy sexy way. That shot we had of him in the light-up Christmas sweater was very misleading. He’s actually hip… he has at least one tattoo that I know of.”

“Really?”

“And he’s way too good-looking.”

“And he’s single? Maybe I should come to your next meeting,” Rachel adds.

“Really?” I ask, hiding the apprehension in my voice. I’d forgotten Rachel’s single status.

Rachel shrugs. “There are worse things than a gorgeous, hip guy who overdoes the holidays. My last boyfriend made me leave him catalogue pages with items circled for gift ideas.”

“How romantic,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

“Exactly.”

I think of attractive Rachel meeting Will, and I’m surprised how quickly jealousy flares up inside me. “No, coming to our next meeting isn’t necessary. Besides he’s not boyfriend material. He has to be twisted inside just to do all this crazy stuff. Right? I just want your advice on how to convince him to do the show when he’s wary of our intentions.”

“It’s like dating a new guy; you have to flatter, romance, and seduce him until he wants to do the things you want him to. If he gets distracted enough, he may forget his trepidation. Try building up his ego. Tell him women will be falling all over him.”

I resent such a ridiculous strategy
. Besides, would this even work with Will?
Nothing in his behavior suggests he’s that kind of guy. Even though we’d just met, I was the only one he wanted to impress.

Maybe I’ve grown tired of the men I’ve met lately who never know what they want, or what they’re sure of. Will is certain of everything, including his reaction to me. As much as I hate to admit it, I find this incredibly appealing.

I’m suddenly protective of this man who doesn’t realize how odd he is with his obsession. “But he thinks we’ll make fun of him… make him look the fool.”

Rachel shrugs disinterestedly. “Well, then it’s your job to make him think we aren’t doing that.”

“And we aren’t, right?”

“No, of course not.” Rachel checks her watch and stands. “Hey I just realized I have a meeting with Don. I have to get going, but you know what you need to do, right?”

I sigh and say what Rachel expects to hear. “Flatter, romance and seduce.”

“That a girl,” Rachel says. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

W
hen he answers the door, I hold up the ornament dusted with fine glitter.

He grins. “I told you Glinda would get you back to me.” He pulls the door open wider. “Come in, come in.”

I hand him a bottle of wine. “I was going to bring sparkling water, since this is work related.”

“But?”

“That just seemed goofy. So, I brought wine instead. Red okay?”

He takes the bottle. “Perfect. I’ve got Romeo in the backyard so the kitchen’s safe. Come keep me company while I finish up.”

I step toward the towering tree in the foyer and pause to hang Glinda on the tree. When I step away, Will rests his hand on my lower back and guides me to the kitchen. I pull a stool up to the center island while he opens and pours the wine.

“How was your day?” he asks.

“Good. I powered through all the boring chores and errands so I’d have plenty of time for fun.”

“Sounds good. Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”
He doesn’t drag his feet, does he?
I imagine where this is leading.

“No boyfriend?”

Well he’s certainly direct
. “Nope, not right now.”

He smiles like a Cheshire cat.

“How about you? Girlfriend?”

“Nope, not right now.” He looks me right in the eye, and it’s unnerving.

There’s a charged pause as I think about the fact that he’s single too. We both take a sip of our wine. I glance up at the elaborate molding running along the circumference of the ceiling and the antique light fixtures with their warm glow of light.

“Before I came in, I was marveling at this house. I have a particular passion for architecture. There aren’t a lot of gingerbread Victorian’s in L.A. How did you ever find this place?”

He lifts his glass in a silent toast. “It was my grandparents. They left it to me.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. What an incredible house to inherit.”

“When I was a boy, I’d spend a month here during the summer, and Gramps and I spent most of our time in his workshop or around the house repairing something. He was always showing me how to fix things. An old place like this requires constant attention. Now I think he was teaching me, knowing one day it would be mine.”

“Well, I bet they’d be proud of how you’ve kept it up.”

“I hope so,” he admits.

I take a whiff of the spices in the air. “So, what are we having for dinner?”

“Penne with vodka sauce,” he says as he stirs the pot. “It’s one of my favorites, so I hope you like it. There’s salad and grilled chicken as well.”

A man who can cook
. Even though I shouldn’t crush on a potential subject, the odds are not looking good for my restraint. Then I remember the promise I made after I broke up with the last “interesting” but crazy boyfriend.
No more crazies!

Finished, I push my plate aside. “That was delicious, Will. Thank you.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“So what’s next?” I say, trying to sound focused. I’m not much of a drinker and the second glass of wine has gotten to me a little.

“Whatever you want.”

I lean back in my chair. “What’s your favorite room?”

“I like them all. But I do have a particular love for the family room since the train set is in there. It’s still being set up, but I can show you what’s been done so far.”

“I’d like that.” I notice he’s much less affected from the wine than I am. Of course he’s tall and muscular, so much bigger than me.

Taking me by the hand, he leads me down the hall and swings open an elaborately carved oak door.

“The main track is set up, let me show you.” He picks up the remote control, dims the lights, and presses a series of buttons. A miniature village lights up, complete with street lamps and an ice skating rink. The skating figurines cut circle-eights across the faux icy surface of the rink.

“Wow! This is amazing!” I marvel at the intricate detail of the houses and sculpted people.

He grins. “And only half of it is set up. Steph and her friends take care of the village stuff. I stick with the trains. Speaking of trains, you ready?”

“All aboard!” I say, laughing.

The expression on his face makes him look like a little kid, which is both disturbing and amusing. I remember a segment of a show about grown men with model train hobbies. There are even shops around L.A. that cater to them. They must have coined the term
man-child
for people like Will and these guys.

He pushes another switch on the remote and then another. I hear the flurry of model trains moving around their tracks before they actually come into view.

“Who designed all this?” I ask, amazed at the intricate detail and planning that must’ve been involved.

“I did,” he says proudly, pointing toward the right corner of the room. “My grandfather collected model trains. Some of the cars on that table in the corner belonged to him.”

“And you put all this together every year?” I ask.

“Well, I have friends that help with the trains too. But I like doing this stuff. It keeps me out of trouble.”

I try to imagine what type of trouble he’s referring to.

He shrugs. “I have a lot of pent-up energy and was kind of wild when I was young.”

“So, all of this keeps you distracted from your natural inclinations.” His bad-boy looks and tattoo make more sense now.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Seems like a healthy way to stay distracted. Good for you I say.”

I examine the setup along the back wall and can feel his gaze as I move away from him.

“Well, I can still get distracted.”

I look over my shoulder and smile before focusing on the table again to study the village setup. “My older sister, Emily, has a few of these houses, but nothing like this. She’d love to see what you’ve done here.”

“You’re welcome to bring her over.”

“Thank you. I wish I could, but Emily and my family live in Portland. Sadly the only way she’ll see this room is if you do the show.” I flash a bright smile.

He makes a face. “You’re smooth.”

“Thank you. I’d love to work with you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, walking toward me. For a moment I imagine he’s going to step close enough to kiss me, but he stops short and just studies me. It unnerves and confuses me how much I wish he’d kiss me.
What’s wrong with me?
It must be the wine.

The pause starts to get uncomfortable.

“I’d like a little more wine, you?” he asks, turning toward the hallway.

Am I going to be smart about this or reckless?
I spin the roulette wheel in my head and blink as I wait for the ball to land. I catch myself nodding before I make up my mind.
Oh my.
Reckless it is.

“Yes, thanks.”

He returns a minute later with an open bottle and clean wine stems. He settles on the couch and pours two glasses.

I sit down and accept the glass, reminding myself to take it slow.

“So tell me more about your family,” Will says.

“My dad’s a project manager for a distribution company and my mom teaches art at the local high school.”

“And they’re still married?”

“Yes. They’ll always be married. They’re like peanut butter and jelly, meant to be together.”

Will smiles.

“Besides Emily, I have an older brother, Tim, who’s married and a pilot, no kids yet. Then there’s Nick, the youngest. He’s the most talented but kind of a lost soul. He’s still figuring things out.”

Will nods with a silent acknowledgment.

My heart hurts thinking about Nick’s recent failed stint in rehab. I don’t share that with Will, even though part of me thinks he may understand.

I lean back on the soft cushions of the couch and close my eyes for a moment to regroup. When I open them the twinkling lights of the little village and the moving train lift my spirits.

I turn toward Will who appears to be deep in thought. “What about your family?”

Will takes a deep breath and a long sip of wine. I wait patiently.

“My story’s a lot less pretty. Things were good when I was little. We were your average family, but then my older brother died in an accident when I was six, and everything fell apart.”

For a moment I try to imagine what life would have been like if Emily or Tim had died young, and I feel a surge of sympathy. It’s one of those moments where someone gives you a peek inside their window and you realize their inside is even more dark and jumbled than you imagined.

I touch his forearm lightly. “I’m sorry, Will.”

“Yeah, it was rough.”

His tone suggests it was worse than rough.

“And your parents?”

“We don’t talk. They blamed me for what happened, so it’s complicated.”

They blamed him?
My stomach curls into a tight ball. How does a small child survive such judgment? Maybe this Christmas fantasy has new meaning. Perhaps one survives by
not
growing up.

“What about your grandparents? Did you spend a lot of time with them when you were young?” I ask, wondering how they must have felt. I hope someone was nice to this emotionally abandoned little boy.

“Well as I said earlier, I used to spend some of my summers with them after the accident when my parents just couldn’t deal. By the time I hit my teens, things were even worse with my parents. So they asked if I wanted to live with them, but I was too far gone and too wrapped up with the wrong people at that point to find my way out.”

“So, is that what you referred to as being in trouble?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate. He looks down where my hand still rests on his forearm, and he slides his hand into mine. His hand is warm and strong, and I want to comfort him.

He gazes at me as he slowly rubs his thumb over the top of my hand. “I like having you here. It just feels really nice,” he says quietly.

I press my fingers into his palm. “You’re really something.”

“You are, too.”

We sit together holding hands for several minutes, both of us lost in thought. As his thumb traces circles lightly over my hand, I wonder what he really wants from me. I also wonder what I’m willing to give.

I turn back to the Christmas village, and try to remember my place. Why am I compelled to get closer to him when I know it’s just going to confuse things for both of us?

“It’s getting late. I better go,” I finally say, feeling cautious.

“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

I give him a gentle smile. “Yeah, I better not.”

“I understand. I want to make sure you’re okay to drive. Do you want some coffee or something?” he asks as we stand.

“Yes, that’d probably be a good idea.”

As we head down the hall, I stop in my tracks. “We really need to talk about the show. We keep avoiding the main reason I’m here.”