7. Day Seven
Day Seven
I tried to keep busy with additional work.
The original plan was to allot all the twelve days before Christmas to Peter’s delivery needs, but now I felt like I had a grip on how long he was going to need me for and I could run a couple additional errands. They paid a pittance compared to the abundance of Peter’s employment, but hey, working myself to the bone at least kept my mind occupied.
After a busy and eventful day, I knocked at Peter’s door.
“Next gift ready, Peter?” I asked with a grin.
Peter looked at me with something like concern in his eyes and I nearly bristled. So what if the cheerful voice was fake today? He should not be able to discern that. I was a damn good actor.
“Is that a bruise?” Peter asked in a voice so cold it could freeze a lake.
Oh. Of course. He bought a service, and he expected his delivery guy to look perfect. I was already cutting it close from day one with my leather motorcycle outfit but, while Peter did frown at seeing my gear for the first time, he let it slide. But a bruise on my face could upset his wee little Leo. Oh no. We couldn’t have that.
“Don’t worry, sir, I will make sure nothing is visible when I deliver the package,” I said in a dead, professional voice and held my hand out expectantly.
“That’s not—” Peter started, but trailed off as I just stood there waiting. Finally, he awkwardly deposited the package in my waiting arms and I left swiftly, as if hounds of Hell were nipping at my heels.
I made good on my promise, stopping by Sephora to buy some concealer. I wasn’t bad at hiding bruises in this way, but I wasn’t perfect either, so I asked one of the make-up assistants at the store to help me. By the time she was done, my face not only looked free of any bruising but my eyes had been lined with black eyeliner as well.
“Damn, I look good,” I said to myself when I was admiring my reflection in my motorcycle’s side mirror.
The small change of eyeliner put me in a much better mood and I felt ready to face Leo with a non-fake smile.
Three knocks later and I presented the package, holding it up in my outstretched arms as if I was presenting baby Simba.
“Behold!” I said dramatically.
“Oh! Is it something this impressive?!” Leo gasped.
“I have no idea!” I said in the same booming voice.
A scowling face of an old lady peaked out from further down the corridor.
“Sorry, Miss Mac!” Leo giggled before he pulled me inside.
“Ah…” I rubbed my neck awkwardly, an apology for making trouble on my lips, but Leo waved his hand.
“Don’t worry about it. Miss Mac is just allergic to fun. C’mon, let’s go to the living room so that I can properly behold my gift.”
I took off my biker boots and hung the protective leather jacket by the door, then I followed after him. He was digging into the box already and, with a sound of surprise, he pulled out… a plant? Wait, were those chilies?
“Aww, he got me flowers!” Leo gushed.
“Those… are not flowers,” I said skeptically.
“Close enough! And it’s even better than flowers. I can cultivate this plant and use it in the kitchen. Wait, I had planned to do some cooking today. Maybe I can make some chili con carne… Let’s see how hot those babies are.”
With aplomb, Leo harvested one of the hot red chilies and bit into it. I watched the fascinating journey on his face, as his expression turned from considering, to surprised, to delighted.
“Whoa! Quite high on the Scoville scale,” he wheezed, his hand flapping fruitlessly like a fan in front of his mouth, which I assumed was on fire.
“Really?” I perked up. I did like my food spicy.
“Wanna try?” Leo offered me the engine red pepper.
I chomped down on it.
Oh. Oh fuck.
“Leo told me I made you cry?” Peter asked as soon as he saw me, practically tearing the door off its hinges in his haste to greet me.
“That snitch.” I narrowed my eyes, already contemplating my revenge. “And I wasn’t crying. There may have been some moisture at the corners of my eyes, but that’s all. That’s not crying!”
“Was it my question about the bruise? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just… I was worried… I am worried about you. Especially if it’s something that would make you cry,” the man in front of me said, while wringing his hands.
I blinked at him.
To be honest, I completely forgot about the bruise.
“Um. Leo was talking about the chili peppers? I maaay have underestimated the hotness of your gift,” I explained.
“Oh.”
Slight red appeared on Peter’s cheeks and he moved aside to let me in. He tried very hard to look like someone who didn’t just panic at the thought of me crying over being hurt and avoided my eyes.
Shit, just like Leo in the past, I had treated this man poorly by not giving him the benefit of the doubt and jumping to an unfavorable conclusion when he was just worried about me.
“I got into a bar fight,” I blurted out.
“Tell me about it?” Peter cocked his head as he asked.
He, markedly, did not judge me based on just one sentence.
“There was a girl… well, a woman really, boxed between three men, and I could see how uncomfortable she was. When the guys started to get handsy and she tried to get away, I saw red. It turned into a brawl, but hey, you should see the other guys,” I winked.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Peter asked, his eyes scanning me with intensity.
“Nah. The motorcycle leathers are actually quite good at dampening blows and the guys were just random drunk shitheads. Shame I had to break a table with one of them and the owner decided I wasn’t going to be paid for my delivery because of that, but eh, the important thing is that the woman I rescued was not harmed. I gave her a ride back to her flat and all.”
“You broke a table with someone?” Peter asked disbelievingly. Right, he was so prim and proper his pals probably challenged each other to duels instead of brawling. I doubt he stepped his foot in a hole-in-a-wall like Sonny’s Folly even once in his life.
“He deserved it,” I sniffed.
Was I imagining things or did Peter look a bit dazed, as if he was imagining my muscles straining as I threw a fully grown man into a wooden table so hard it fell into pieces?
Peter shook his head as if to get rid of the vision.
“Wait, that’s not important. Someone didn’t pay you? That’s illegal!”
“Yeeeah, the bar owner totally did not respect the legally binding contract that we both signed,” I said with such a dose of sarcasm the words were practically dripping with it. Fast jobs on the side with no paper trail? That would never happen!
“I… see,” Peter frowned. “That’s still underhanded, not respecting a gentleman’s agreement.”
I would pay to see Sonny’s expression if he was called a gentleman to his face. With a snicker at my own imagination, I patted Peter’s arm.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s just how it is for us couriers. Let Sonny choke on the money. I don’t need it when I have such a generous benefactor as you.”
“If you’re sure…” Peter said without conviction, but I had the perfect distraction for him to drop it.
“Look, this time I have a gift for you!” I professed a still hot container.
“For me? From Leo?” Peter took hold of the plastic box reverently.
“Yeah, man. That’s why I am so late. Leo insisted on making chili con carne using your gift, so I waited around to bring this to you. Dig in while it’s still warm!” I urged.
Peter took my advice, and power walked to the kitchen, looking as if it was his birthday. As I followed him, I had a sense of déjà vu; it was the second time today I was spending time in the kitchen of a beautiful man. The two hours it took Leo to prepare the meal were spent in light conversation, the atmosphere completely relaxed as we shared bits of interesting trivia with each other. Leo won in the contest of dinosaur facts knowledge, but I was deemed the master of the weird sea facts. Honestly, those were two of the most fun hours of my life in the last month. As if that wasn’t enough, Leo insisted I had to taste the painstakingly prepared chili con carne, so I had shared not only a kitchen but the meal with him. With a steady supply of milk, I didn’t even mind that the end result was still a bit too powerful for me.
Maybe after I spent a joyful evening with Leo, giving my report while Peter ate with gusto should feel, I dunno, less interesting, but I found Peter’s thoughtful hums and the way he looked at me with utter intensity while I described how Leo got sauce on his eyebrows quite endearing. I liked Peter’s calmer, quieter, more serious company as much as I liked Leo’s rambunctious, vivid, captivating personality.
I insisted on waiting to read the poem until he finished eating, which turned out to be the right choice, as Peter spluttered when he heard the words.
“My tongue on fire
I wonder how you would taste
You are hot as well.”
That night, when I lay in bed, I was thinking about seeing Leo and Peter again. How come it felt like my whole world started to spin around those two strangers?