9. Izzy
9
IZZY
Nothing beats the feeling of a shower after a day in the sun. The turkey wrap I make for dinner after is a close second, though.
It continues to plague me, what Derrick said about seeing me in the coffee shop. Until that moment, I thought I’d always been hyper aware of him. Sure, I tried to set him up with my sister, even after I discovered my attraction to him, but that was because I don’t live here. It was clear the moment I met him that he’s not the type for a fling, so it wouldn’t have made sense for me to pursue him.
Once I’m settled in bed, I open up my laptop and scour my vlogs from the last time I was here. I spent a lot of time at the coffee shop during that visit, so there’s probably a clip from there in almost every video. But I search through each one without luck. I don’t see him in any clip .
I should let it go. What’s the point, anyway? But it’s become this nagging thing, like a hangnail I can’t help but pick at.
Next, I search my unused footage—I save stuff for at least six months before I dump it to make space—and that’s where I finally come across the video.
I’m sitting at a table with my back to the counter. He comes in and glances my way. The smile that takes over is almost instantaneous. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and his mouth moves in a way that looks like he’s saying my name. But I’m oblivious. If I had been wearing headphones, I could understand. But there was no good reason for me to have missed his greeting.
His shoulders fall slightly, and he turns back to the counter and orders. While he waits for his coffee, he peers over at me every now and then. And when he has his drink in hand, he starts toward me. Halfway to me, though, his face hardens, and he shakes his head. He changes course then and heads out of frame and presumably out the door.
A lead ball forms in my stomach.
I didn’t notice him. How could I not have sensed him?
I watch the clip again and again and again.
Guilt creeps through me as I cut the clip and save it separately so it’s easier to find. It’s not the end of the world, of course. I was in the zone, doing my thing. Even so, it still bothers me. And Derrick was right. More often than not, I’m so focused on what’s going on inside my phone or through the lens of my camera that I’m missing out on life.
My social media presence has created many opportunities for which I’m grateful for, but I want more. I want a husband and kids. Real, lasting friendships. And social media can’t give me that .
I close the laptop and set it on the nightstand. Then I flop back onto the mountain of pillows. Wonton curls up beside me, resting his head on my knee.
Despite the anxiety curling inside me over my social media presence and my future, I manage to fall asleep quickly.
It’s the middle of the afternoon on Monday when Derrick comes bursting through the door, a string of expletives flying from his lips.
With my heart in my throat, I sit up from my reclined position on the couch, setting my book on the coffee table. “Derrick?” I call out.
He doesn’t respond. I’m not sure he even realizes I’m here. So I slip off the couch and follow him into the kitchen, where I find him at the sink, fingers laced behind his head, his chest heaving.
“Hey.” I place a gentle hand on his back. “What’s going on?”
His eyes, full of frustration and maybe even fear, drop to mine. “I should’ve listened to Jessica.”
Frowning, I tilt my head. “Huh? I’m missing something here, big guy.”
With a huff, he drops his hands to his sides. “Jessica has been telling me for weeks, months really that I need?—”
I shake my head and hold up a finger, urging him to slow down. “Hold on, who’s Jessica?”
“She’s my receptionist—no, that doesn’t sound right. She’s more like an assistant. She handles my calls and scheduling. Anything else I need. ”
“Gotcha.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter. “Go on.”
“She’s been telling me for months that I need to hire someone to help me while she’s on maternity leave.” His fingers tremble with agitation when he shoves them through his hair. “I thought I had time. But she went into labor today. It’s too early. They were able to stop it, but she’s on bed rest, and I don’t have the help I need. I told her I could do it myself, but really?—”
“I’ll do it.”
He inhales sharply and zeroes in on me, his eyes wide. “What?”
“I can handle it.”
“Izzy.” That single word is laced with a heavy dose of doubt. I should probably feel offended, but if anything, it makes me more eager to help, because now I want to prove him wrong. “How?”
“I’m a quick learner. She uses a lot of the same stuff I do for scheduling, so that part should be easy. I’m smarter than I look, you know.” I tack on the last bit a tad defensively. The assumption that because I work in social media, I don’t know how to function in the physical world irks me.
He rubs his jaw, brows furrowing, and turns away. After a moment, he stiffens and turns back. “Is the dishwasher running?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, dropping my arms to my sides and smirking. “I fixed it.”
Confused, he frowns. “You… you fixed the dishwasher?”
My smile grows. “I did.”
“How?”
“I watched a YouTube tutorial and figured it out.”
He eyes the running dishwasher, then assesses me. I have no idea how long it hasn’t worked, and I wasn’t sure I could fix it, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.
With a sigh, he says, “You’re hired.”
Giddiness surges through me. I hold my hand out to shake on it. “Thanks, boss man.”
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, slipping his hand into mine.
I salute him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
He walks away with a muttered, “What have I gotten myself into?”
I ride with Derrick the following morning, since he’s working in the office for the day rather than on site. I’m fairly certain he’s only working in the office to get me settled in and to make sure I don’t screw things up.
Until now, I hadn’t realized that he owned a store front. Or something close to a storefront, I guess. The main space is filled with samples—floors, counters, tile, and more—and there is a small office space in the back.
“It’s rare for anyone to come in,” he says, flicking the lights on. “But customers will pop in here and there to look at samples. Typically, I’ve scheduled it with them, so I’ll let you know ahead of time. They can take samples with them, but they should return them within seven days. Just take their name and number before they leave.”
Once he’s given me the rundown, I set Wonton down and let him check the place out. I didn’t exactly ask for permission to bring him, but when I scooped him up and carried him out to the truck, Derrick didn’t balk, so I think it’s safe to assume he’s okay with it .
I settle into a pink chair at the desk that must be Jessica’s and take in the items scattered across the surface. Among the stacks of paperwork, there’s a World’s Best Mom mug filled with pens and a dog-eared paperback next to the computer monitor. In a small town like this, it’s hard not to wonder if the woman who works for Derrick is the Jessica from book club.
So I shoot off a text to Via. She’ll know.
Yes , she replies almost instantly.
I turn on Jessica’s computer, and when a small screen pops up, notifying me that it needs an update, I sigh. If she’s anything like me, she’s been putting it off. While it does its thing, I scour the desk and various Post-its full of information. I organize things in a way that makes sense to me, deciding I’ll write important information in my own notebook. That should help me keep up with all the things I’ll need to learn.
I can feel Derrick watching me while I organize Jessica’s desk into a state in which I can function.
When I’m wiping off the surface I’ve uncovered, he says, “That’s the cleanest I’ve seen this desk since Jessica started.”
I pull out my notebook and a pink pen. “Some people thrive in chaos. I’m not one of them.” When he continues to watch me, I say, “I don’t need a babysitter. If you need to go do something, you can.”
“I’m fine right here.”
“All right.” Refusing to let his scrutiny bother me, I rifle through my purse and pull out my blue light glasses.
A few years ago, I was steadfastly against using them, but I spend hours in front of a screen editing videos and planning other social content, so eventually, I realized the benefit, and they became a must. Now, I don’t like to use the computer without them.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses. ”
I type in the password Jessica forwarded to Derrick and familiarize myself with the home screen. “Only when I’m on a screen, which, admittedly, is a lot.”
He lets out a gruff sound in reply.
A few hours later, the computer files are organized in a way more suited for me, and I’m moving on to alphabetizing his customer list when Derrick stands and stretches. The groan he lets out has me squeezing my thighs together, and the strip of skin the move exposes above his worn jeans doesn’t help me at all.
I hate to admit it, but I’ve used my vibrator more since moving in with him than I have in the last year combined.
“I’m going to get coffee. You want anything?”
“Ugh, yes.” Caffeine is exactly what I need right now.
“Do you want to go with me, take a break, or do you want me to bring something back for you?”
Shooting to my feet, I snatch my purse off the edge of the desk. “I’ll go with you. Come on, Wonton.” I pat the side of my leg.
Obediently, my little white dog pops up from where he’s been snoozing under the desk and scurries over for me so I can put his leash on.
Outside, the sky is a worrisome gray color, but Derrick strolls with his hands in his pockets like nothing is amiss.
“Should we lock up? Bring an umbrella?”
He turns and walks backward, one brow cocked. “It’s Parkerville, we don’t worry about locking shit up, and so what if it rains? It’s not far.”
I reply with a hum. I guess he has a point.
Wonton follows after him, his tail wagging eagerly. I can’t blame him. If I had a tail, it’d no doubt do the same.
As we approach the coffee shop, I give Derrick my order so I can walk Wonton a bit more. He’s giving me the signals that he needs to go potty, and the last thing I need is for him to have an accident in the office.
Derrick is still in the shop and Wonton has finished his business, so I sit at a table outside to wait. When the wind stirs the hair around my shoulders, I eye the darkening sky with trepidation, hoping we can make it back before the skies open up. Getting rained on won’t be the end of the world, but I’d rather not spend the rest of the day hanging out with a wet smelly dog.
The coffee shop door opens, and Derrick steps out with the bottom of both drinks cupped in one massive hand.
I can’t help but gape. There’s something so hot about that—that his hands are so large and capable that he can handle both cups so easily.
“Hey,” he says, in that deep, gruff voice of his.
My heart tugs, and for a minute I let myself pretend he’s mine. It’s been a while since I dated, and I miss it. My last serious relationship ended after we realized we just weren’t a great fit, but for a while there, I hoped we were headed toward marriage and babies.
“Thanks.” I take the cup from him and stand.
“I got something for you, too.” He plucks a pup cup off the top of his where he’s been balancing it and crouches in front of Wonton.
With an eager tail wag, my pup accepts the gift.
Derrick’s smile is warm as he watches my little dog lap up the treat. It only takes a minute for Wonton to finish the dollop of whipped cream, and when it’s gone, Derrick tosses it into the trash can and we start back to the shop.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, sending skitters of goose bumps along my skin and making me jump .
Derrick curls warm, gentle fingers around my elbow. “It’s just thunder.”
“I don’t like thunderstorms,” I confess on a whimper, eyeing the darkening sky.
He assesses me, his thick brows drawing into a nearly straight line and his mouth turned down. “What happened to make you hate them?”
I purse my lips and twist them to one side, hesitant to tell him. It’s silly, I suppose, my fear. But I take a steadying breath and go for it. “When I was seven, my dad forgot to pick me up from school after a field trip. The chaperones must have thought I was gone, because they all left. And a storm came through and…” I shrug and lower my focus to our feet. I can feel his sympathetic gaze on me, and I hate the pity there. “I was really scared that day, and that feeling never went away.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his fingers grazing mine as we walk.
A shiver works its way up my spine, half fear and half excitement from the touch. Attention still fixed on my feet, noting that they are in desperate need of a pedicure, I shrug. “It’s dumb.”
“No, it’s not. Your feelings are valid.”
The statement is simple, but it goes a long way in making me feel better. With those simple words, I feel lighter, more understood.
I’m almost smiling, in fact, when we make it back to the store ahead of the rain.
Wonton, hyped up from his pup cup, runs in circles around us, making me laugh in the way only he can. Dogs have a unique ability to cheer a person up without even knowing it.
Derrick scratches at his beard, though one side of his mouth is lifted. “Should I have skipped the pup cup? ”
I dismiss his words with a wave of my hand. “He’ll calm down soon enough.”
At the computer once more, I get to work making calls to check on orders for floor and tile that Jessica has recently placed, hoping for further details so I can update the transaction ledger.
Derrick watches me from his desk, like maybe this is some sort of silent test.
Have I passed? Or does he still think so little of my abilities? I might have an unconventional job, but I’m not totally inept. Not even close to it, really.
What I lack in formal education, I make up for in life experience.
At the end of the day, we shut everything down and flick off the lights. Then, with Wonton tucked under an arm, I make a mad dash for Derrick’s truck in an effort to avoid getting soaked to the bone.
He hops in with a grunt and cranks the engine. The temperature has dropped significantly thanks to the summer storm, so he turns off the AC. When I continue to shiver, he taps the button to turn the heat on.
“You okay?” he asks when lightning sparks in the distance.
“I’m okay.” I bury my face in Wonton’s neck and inhale, calmed by his familiar clean doggy scent.
“I could stop at the diner and?—”
“Not a chance, boss man. I’m cooking dinner.”
He gives me a sheepish, crooked grin. “You can’t blame me for trying.” He pulls onto the street, heading toward home, and after a few minutes of quiet, says, “You did good today.”
Pride weaves its way through me, and I fail epically at hiding my smile. “Did I pass?”
He rolls his eyes, that grin turning into a smirk. “If you plan on hanging around for a few months, then yeah, the job is yours if you want it.”
“I do. I… I don’t plan on going back to LA any time soon.” Or ever . That part is new, but each day I’m away only gets easier. I don’t miss it at all.
“Is it really that bad? This thing with the singer and her fans?”
I twist my lips. “It could be better,” I finally answer. “But in the grand scheme of things, no. I’ve been feeling unsettled for a while, though. I think this was the nudge I needed to get out.”
He dips his chin, his attention remaining on the road. “It’s okay to outgrow a place. People, too. It happens.”
“I know,” I whisper, digging my fingers into Wonton’s fur. He gives the side of my hand a lick. “But I don’t know who I am outside of that life.”
He glances over at me as he pulls into the driveway. After he’s come to a stop, he puts the truck in park, but he makes no move to get out. “Easy, you’re just you—whoever you are now.”
I meet his eyes, my chest tightening at the honesty in his expression. “I guess.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
I hope so.
As I’m stepping onto the driveway, a giant clap of thunder sounds, startling me. Wonton lets out a scared squeak and leaps from my arms.
“Wonton!” I scream as he darts away from me. “Wonton!” I chase after him, all my own fears of storms melting away.
Derrick curses behind me, his steps loud on the pavement.
At the edge of the driveway, he clutches my elbow and spins me around. I’m already soaked, with my hair plastered to my forehead. He’s just as drenched, his shirt sticking to his wide chest and water running down his face.
“What happened?”
“He got scared and jumped out of my arms!” I spin out of his hold, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Wonton!” I call, searching for him. His white fur shouldn’t be too hard to spot in the gloom.
As water streams off Derrick’s nose, he shoves his long fingers through his wet hair and stares me down, no doubt seeing every bit of the fear that overwhelms me. As much as the storm terrifies me, losing Wonton is so much worse.
“Go into the house?—”
“What?” I round on him, my heart pinching. “No!”
“Go into the house,” he repeats, pointing a forceful finger. “Stay there in case Wonton comes back. I’ll look outside.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my bottom lip trembling, despite the way I try to stop it. “I can?—”
“Inside, Izzy.”
With a deep exhale, I obey, calling for Wonton as I go. My chest is collapsing in on itself, and my heart has cracked in two. He took off so quickly, and he’s not familiar with the area. There’s no telling what direction he went. He’s wet and scared and?—
My thoughts fall away, my brain shutting down into protection mode.
Once I’m inside, I sink to the floor in front of the glass storm door and shiver while I wait.