Chapter 9 A Bit Much #2
Connor smiles stiffly in response, and I know that smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, barely shows his teeth. He’s flashed it to his least favorite clients, anyone who calls him dude, and to Real Penn. Many times.
“Ruby,” Connor says. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Great!” I grin back maniacally, my hands waving through the air. I must look like a demented jack-in-the-box.
“Miss?” Walter calls out.
I make the mistake of catching his eye, and he lifts the clipboard. “This will just take a minute,” I shout back. “My cousin here needs my help.”
“But you still need to—”
Penn cuts Walter off. “Your cousin?”
I shush him and grab one of the bouquets to make it look like we’re in this together. Pulling Penn by the wrist, I drag him toward the elevators to get us away from other eyeballs. And get some answers.
“What is going on?” Penn scold-whispers.
“I’m the one who deserves an explanation,” I volley back.
“What are you talking about?”
The elevator dings. I head inside, and with a groan, Penn follows, pressing the fourth-floor button. “Why are you here? Did you follow me?”
“Why are you here? And who is she?”
“Who’s who?”
I point at him. “Don’t play dumb. The redhead. I saw her this morning, leaving my house.”
Penn’s eyebrows lift, but before he can respond, the doors open on the second floor.
An older lady steps inside and presses the button for the third floor. “How sweet,” she says, gesturing to the flowers. Then she surveys my getup and winks. “Smart girl. Show off those stems while you can.”
The doors open, and my new best friend leaves.
As we climb another floor, I scowl at Penn.
“You made me feel crazy for even joking about a secret girlfriend, and then…” I shake my head.
“Is it a relationship? Or are you two, you know”—I gesture to his lower region, and his gaze follows—“special ‘buddies’ of some kind?” He sputters a laugh, which enrages me even more.
“Because I’ve done quite a thorough inventory of your Instagram account, Penn, plus all your followers, and she’s nowhere. ”
“Ruby, I’m not—”
The doors open on the fourth floor. Two men stand there, waiting. I smile sweetly at them, then follow Penn down the hallway, jogging to keep up with his long, brisk strides.
“Look,” I say. “I know we’re not a thing. But last night, I…”
Penn stops. “This is about last night? About…you and me?”
Having his full attention brings my unhinged rant into focus. Heat prickles at my skin. “Well, yes. And no. I just felt like there was, you know. A vibe.”
“A vibe,” he repeats. Another smirk plays on his lips, and I can’t stand it.
I poke him in the chest with the bouquet. “Just tell me. Does she work here? Are you bringing her this entire garden? Really, Penn. Play hard to get for once, will you?”
Penn licks his lips, and the smirk comes loose. “I’m not in any kind of relationship. And that woman, I don’t even know her.”
Relief swells in my chest. But now I’m even more confused.
“So you’re letting strangers into my home?”
Penn takes a deep breath. “I can’t do this right now, okay?” He keeps walking, eyeing the numbers on each door.
I groan, rushing to catch up with him. “Why not?”
“Because I’m on the clock.”
“On what clock? Do you work here, too? Penn, you manage the bar. You’re helping at the diner. Isn’t that enough? It was one thing when we were kids, but you can’t keep bouncing around like this. You can’t just hop across the lily pads of life all willy-nilly.”
His laugh is a quick burst. “The lily pads of life?”
“You get my point. You need to commit to things.”
His smile fades. “I’ll explain later, okay? But if you insist on following me, then here.” He shoves the grocery bag into my hands. “Make yourself useful.”
I peer inside. It’s full of bread. “What is this? Why—”
Penn stops in front of a door, so I do, too. He knocks. Waits. Looks at me, then faces forward again. I side-eye him, and he tilts me another glance before returning his attention to the door. Quietly, he says, “You were right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There was definitely a vibe.”
Butterflies, a whole swarm of them, twitch inside my chest.
Which is silly. Because none of this is real.
And butterflies were not part of my plan.
—
A voice tells us to come inside, so I follow Penn into a small kitchenette. An older gentleman sits in a plaid armchair on the far side of the room, and he smiles at me warmly.
“Ruby, meet Earl. Earl, Ruby.”
This man, whoever he is, has a kind face and thick white hair, and a blue cardigan that makes me think of Mr. Rogers.
I don’t know who he is, or why we’re here.
All I know is I’m carrying bread into a strange man’s room.
For reasons unbeknownst to me. And Penn still hasn’t explained this morning’s hot houseguest.
“Lovely girl,” Earl observes, as if I’m not here. “Your employee? Friend? Lady friend?”
I stammer out a nervous laugh. Lady friend? Employee?
I wait for Penn to answer Earl’s question, my brain still buzzing, thanks to There was definitely a vibe. The thing is, I want Penn to see me differently. It’s my way out. But now that I have an inkling of what that feels like, I’m afraid of it, too.
“We used to be neighbors,” Penn explains. “Now we’re temporary roommates.”
A smooth dodge. Very diplomatic.
Earl eyes me curiously. “How nice.”
His knowing stare makes me uneasy. Maybe he’s got some old-person sixth-sense stuff going on and knows I don’t belong here.
Penn starts trimming the flower stems at an angle, and I wonder where he learned to do that. I wonder what else I don’t know about him. Not just in this world, but in reality, too.
“And how do you two know each other?” I ask.
Penn sets the flowers into mason jars. “We’re friends.”
Another question dodged.
“Good friends,” Earl agrees. “But only if Penn keeps bringing lilies. Those were her favorite.”
“Whose?” I ask.
Penn inhales sharply, and I’m afraid I’ve made a misstep. But Earl’s glowing.