Chapter 4
FOUR
Rowan
Tapping my fingers against the handle of the fridge, I purse my lips and try to think up a creative recipe for what we have in there. We had spaghetti the last three nights in a row, and we barely had enough sauce to make it through last night, so that’s off the table.
I close the fridge door and pop the freezer open, and my eyes land on a chicken breast. Perfect; I can fry that up and put it over some rice, and we’ll have a decent meal.
I grab the chicken and carefully close the freezer door, trying not to make much sound with it, and my fingers graze over one of the nine strategically-placed magnets stuck to the doors.
Those damn magnets.
I gently slide one of the brightly-colored novelty prints away to reveal the dent beneath it, a permanent marking left from my dad’s drunken rages, and my chest tightens.
Each of them carry their own story, none of which I like to look back on, and this one is the most recent.
This is the one that scared me the most. I was sure he was finally going to haul off and hit me – or even worse, Macie.
I screamed as his fist made contact with the door, but god, I was so relieved when the pain of the impact stopped him in his tracks.
Macie had climbed into bed with me that night after having a nightmare, and I held her tightly to my chest all night, keeping myself awake and on alert to protect her until morning.
I shake the memory off of me, slide the magnet back into place and give it an apologetic pat, then I move to start boiling some water for the rice.
A little over forty-five minutes later, I throw the rice onto two plates and top it with the crispy, breaded chicken, finishing it off with a squeeze of lemon over the top. It’s nothing fancy, but it will do.
While we eat, I check over my sister’s homework and start up a grocery list. Tomorrow is pay day, according to my calendar, and we need some groceries. I promised Mace I’d take her shopping on Saturday, too, so even though the money comes in in the morning, by Saturday, it will be gone.
·
“Happy Friday, Mr. Fowler!” I sing as I round the corner into my boss’s office.
“Happy Friday, Rowan,” he echoes, checking his watch. “You’re a few minutes early today.”
I set my bag down and shimmy out of my coat before hanging it up and pulling the tablet from its charging port.
“There wasn’t as much traffic this morning as usual,” I tell him.
A lie; the drop off line at school went faster than normal, which left me a few minutes to spare.
But I’m not about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know that I’ve stepped in to play parent because the only one we have left is incapable of doing so himself.
The last thing I want is Colt Fowler’s pity.
I can feel his eyes on me as I tap through the tablet, checking his calendar for the day and catching up on emails I need to respond to for him; I mostly get his invitations, people wanting to interview him, et cetera, et cetera. All of the important ones, I forward to him.
“You have a very exciting day, Mr. Fowler,” I announce sarcastically. “Two meetings, a lunch, and a conference call.”
He lets out a soft chuckle and tells me, “Better get a cardiologist on the line, then. I’m not sure my heart can handle it.”
Smiling, I return to my tablet and tap my foot as I swipe through my own tasks for the day, things that need done around the office like faxes that need sent, copies that need to be made, and I have to plan where I’ll grab lunch and dinner orders from.
“Rowan,” Mr. Fowler says.
“Mhm?”
“Sit down.”
“Oh,” I laugh, “sorry.” I don’t miss the arch of his brow as the word comes out. He just told me yesterday to stop apologizing, but I can’t help it from slipping out.
I plop into the seat across from him and run him through the list of things that need to go out today, making sure I haven’t missed anything, before I gather up the necessary papers from his filing cabinets and stack them in my arms, making my way toward the copy room.
I pull up a chair as I wait for the machines to do their thing, checking every now and again to make sure that the ink isn’t running low in the copier.
A lot of people might consider it a menial job, but I enjoy it.
I like the atmosphere, I like the people I work with, and my boss is kind to me.
It’s also a huge bonus that there’s almost always an excuse to sit somewhere.
Seriously, there are chairs all over the place.
Emmett passes by the door to the copy room and I catch him with a quick smile. He stops himself, grabbing onto the door frame, and pokes his head in.
“Hey,” he says. “Glad I caught you.”
“Oh?”
Stepping into the room, he replies, “Mmhmm. Wanted to know if you’re busy tomorrow.”
“Not after five,” I answer with a smile.
“Cool. Be ready for dinner by eight, then.”
With a wink, he disappears around the door once again, and I smile to myself, biting my lower lip.
We’ve had a few flirtations, and sure, we spent time together at the office party, but I didn’t think he’d actually ask me out.
I figured he would have beautiful women lined up around the block for a chance to be with him; between his bone structure and what I know of his personality, the guy’s got to have a roster.
Crap, we really do have to go shopping, now.