9. CHAPTER NINE
When he’d seen the flyer for the crafting class at his inspection, Theo hadn’t expected Effie to be the one teaching.
He thought some dowdy old lady would lead the group.
Not that he had anything against dowdy old ladies.
In fact, he had signed up for the class and asked Talia to join him precisely because he enjoyed trying new things and learning them from passionate people.
He hadn’t anticipated that Effie fit that bill.
Theo was distracted and not doing a very clean job of lining the cardinal design onto his glass with puff paint.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Effie was thinking about how bad his name tasted.
Couldn’t stop wondering what it tasted like.
She would have to tell him at some point.
He’d demand it. Maybe after they tussled over his follow-up inspection.
If they tussled? They got off to another rocky start tonight.
In retrospect, oh, it’s you , probably wasn’t the best greeting upon entering Effie’s makeshift classroom, but then again, he was certain it’s just what she’d expected of him.
She’d done her best not to scowl and now went on leading the class effortlessly.
“Theodore, you might want to wipe your tip.”
“Excuse me?” he said, wondering if everyone else, especially Talia, made it sound as dirty as it did in his head.
“The tip of your puff paint,” Talia said, rolling her eyes. She nudged him with her elbow.
“Ah,” he said and went to work clearing the glob off the end of the paint tip.
“Once you’re finished with your line work, you can carry your glass to the register.
I’ll dry everyone’s puff paint while you enjoy more wine and your dates without me hovering for a few minutes.
” She presented herself like an intrusion, despite being the reason they were all there in the first place.
Theo caught her eye, and the subtle shade of pink that rose to her cheeks had him wondering if it was more of an effort to lead this class than she let on.
What he’d assumed was a bite in their first meeting might well have been the sharper edge to shyness.
Effie led the charge by carrying her own perfectly puff-painted glass to the register at the front of the store. It was far enough away that when she started to use a blow dryer on a low setting, the hum wasn’t an annoyance.
Talia poured them another glass of a smoky merlot, one of Theo’s favorites. He lifted his glass. “Cheers.” They clinked glasses and sipped, not breaking eye contact until they’d swallowed— good luck and all that.
Talia sized Effie up with a tilt of her head. “Do you think she sits at home knitting on Friday nights?” Theo shrugged. “I think she probably has a cat or something. Just like a quiet little virgin with her crafts and creatures. ”
Theo couldn’t argue that the description might be accurate as Effie tucked her feathered waves over one shoulder, her back to them.
She worked the hairdryer over the puff paint; her weight shifted to the side, so one hip popped.
His eyes found the little flowers that peeked out from the back pockets of the jeans that fit just right.
He urged his gaze away. “Does it matter?” Theo asked, never one to like making guesses about people.
“No, it’s just a fun game,” Talia chirped. “But I do think you’d scare the shit out of her.” She chuckled and brought her wineglass to her lips. Her eyes flicked to his crotch and back to meet his gaze. Her grin was wicked.
“You better behave yourself, or I won’t invite you to craft night again,” he warned.
“Heavens, no.” Theo knew she’d only agreed to come in case things turned more intimate, as they were apt to do when they went out. He couldn’t deny a similar train of thought had sparked the invitation.
He looked back at Effie, though, and hated himself for wondering if Talia was right.
If he would intimidate her or if he could make amends for his crappy first impression.
The tangible prospects before him came into crystal clear focus as Talia whispered in his ear all the ways she wanted to have him later that night.
Effie was grateful for the reprieve of drying the puff paint.
She needed the five minutes to compose herself.
Theodore was here with a woman who dripped sex appeal and experience and, well, everything that Effie wasn’t.
To top it off, Theodore persisted in being arrogant and annoying.
He mentioned he’d be by in the morning for their follow-up, reminding her that passing inspection still loomed when she just wanted to make it through the class.
Effie tensed remembering the sheer disappointment that she dared be the instructor of this class.
She tried not to give it another thought.
Effie returned everyone’s glass and demonstrated how to mix the paints and glue to create a transparent color, filling in the sections between the faux leading. Usually, she tried to use people’s names when giving tips or little compliments, but it wasn’t wise when it came to Theodore.
She’d said his name once already, and she managed to control her face, which was a feat that deserved some kind of a medal.
Avoiding it for the rest of the night seemed like the right move, but she worried that he’d notice and take offense, calling back the really rude face she had made the first time they met. Maybe it wouldn’t even come up—
“So, what does my name taste like?” Theodore asked as he brushed a mix of red paint and Elmer’s Glue over the first square of his cardinal.
He really was infuriating. Especially as he dared her with a look.
Effie only replied so they might break their intense eye contact that had steam rising from her tiptoes to the crown of her head.
“Do you truly want to know?” Effie asked, using her project before her as an excuse to avert her gaze.
“Taste like?” Talia interjected, utterly confused. “What a weird question.”
“I have lexical gustatory synesthesia, so I can taste words.” She said this all while staring intently at her glass, but she felt the attention of the whole group turn on her.
“I’m dying to know,” Theodore confessed.
“Fine. Theodore tastes like soggy cardboard.” He didn’t seem to like the answer but took it in stride. The relief she felt at admitting it startled her.
After that, everyone wanted to know what their names tasted like, so they played a little game while they painted.
Effie explained that Talia tasted like seafood alfredo—something about it sounding Italian and like tilapia and rich flavor all at once.
Mr. Robecheck, Arnold, had a name that tasted like asparagus.
Mrs. Robecheck, Sarah, tasted like SweeTarts.
Heidi adored that her name tasted like hot caramel sauce, while Colin thought that a name tasting of whipped cream was perfectly acceptable.
“So just my name then that displeases your taste buds?” Theodore asked, humor in his voice.
“It would appear so,” Effie replied, apologetic. “Make sure you’re adding glue to every color, Mr. Robecheck. You want it to stick to the glass.” The gentleman nodded and added a dab to the blue he used.
“And what’s your name taste like?” Theodore wondered. Effie wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked her that.
“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Effie said, not interested in continuing down this line of questioning.
But he waited. Effie swallowed hard, her mouth having gone a bit dry.
No explanation came to save her. The silence around her felt probing, and she wished that Theodore didn’t bring it up.
She was back in grade school, misspelling caricature in front of the whole class.
Her skin dampened, the room boiling over with her awkwardness.
She just wanted to get back to teaching.
“I decided your name tastes like eggplant,” Theodore said as he lifted his brush with a flourish. He gave her a subtle wink, and her shoulders relaxed. Disagreeable, perhaps, but not unobservant. Kind even, to have saved her from her social anxieties, even if he had triggered them.
“A flavor will frequently be related to how a name is spelled or sounds. So I guess I’ll accept eggplant.” She smiled faintly and settled in to work on her own stained glass. Everyone went back to their dates, allowing Effie to ponder her real answer.
Her relationship with her synesthesia was something she’d worked on in therapy for years.
It took her a long time to realize that there was an emotional component to the way words tasted.
Another heat wave of embarrassment tingled her spine as her name played on repeat in her mind, washing her tongue in that not-so-satisfying flavor.
She shoved the regret back in its cage to examine—for the millionth time—another day and returned to her project.
Theodore finished his painting and held it proudly. “Excellent faux stained glass, Theodore,” Effie said, and her nose scrunched again. It was alarming how horrible it tasted, given whatever flutter she felt when she looked at him.
“Fascinating.” Theodore laughed. “It’s that realistic?”
“Like licking an Amazon box that’s sat out in the rain and molded,” Effie joked. Theodore laughed again and she couldn’t help enjoying it.
“Well then, maybe you should just call me Theo. Everyone else does.”
Effie tensed. “I’ll call you cardboard.”
“I imagine cardboard tastes like cardboard. That can’t be pleasant.”
“Better than soggy cardboard,” Effie rebuffed. She honestly couldn’t tell if they were truly bickering or if he enjoyed the banter.
“Indulge me. I want to know if Theo is better or not.”
Effie was truly hesitant. Even hearing words left her with faint flavors.
Not as strong or recognizable as when she said the word, but she already knew what Theo tasted like.
She didn’t need him knowing that, though, because it wasn’t any better.
In fact, from Effie’s perspective, it was much, much worse.
“I doubt it changes much,” Effie warned. It struck her as funny that she hadn’t considered trying to shorten his name before now. Maybe because everyone always asked if Effie was short for something, she didn’t like to assume any alterations were fair play.
“Just try it,” he coaxed, and it sounded flirtatious. But that couldn’t be right , not with Talia there reminding him he promised to go to the Tipsy Moose after this and finding any excuse to brush up against him. “I’m not going to give up on this.”
“Fine,” Effie said. “What a lovely cardinal . . . Theo.” Effie’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head, and her tongue reached for the corner of her mouth where she’d certainly find— Hope .
Honeyed ham. Tibby. Thyme. Grams. Graham crackers.
She forced herself to think through different name tastes to clear her palate, but the damage was done.
“That certainly seems like an improvement,” Mrs. Robecheck remarked from her stool, and Effie blushed. She really needed to learn to control her damn face. She quickly averted her gaze, though her skin prickled with Theo’s attention.
“Definitely not cardboard,” Effie offered by way of explanation .
Talia had a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, this is fun.”
Theo reached for her like he was going to grab her hand to calm her.
God, how bad had her face been? She bounced with nerves as his hand got closer, but en route he knocked his arm into his glass of wine that sat precariously near the edge.
Unfortunately, it perched above Effie’s open tote and cascaded all over her things.
Theo scrambled, grabbing for the roll of paper towels in the center of the table.
He hurriedly unpacked her tote, dabbing at everything before Effie could even dismount her stool.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” he said as he continued to blot the mess.
Effie could do nothing to stop the atrocious tang on her tongue. Theo noticed. “Shit—Sorry again.”
“Just stop saying it,” Effie blurted.
“Right. Sorry,” he said, embarrassed.
Effie crouched before him as he pulled the novel she’d been reading from the bag.
The one whose cover depicted a broad-chested pirate hoisting the thigh of a busty wench over his midsection as he pressed her against the wheel of his ship in the middle of a rainstorm.
Rippling pectorals and stacked abs were on full display beneath his drenched shirt, now also drenched in wine.
Theo’s grin went crooked as he looked at the cover, then at Effie.
She snatched it from him before Talia could see.
“I’ll buy you a new copy. If I could just get the title,” he teased, clearly enjoying the fire in Effie’s cheeks. She scowled back at him.
“That’s not necessary,” she asserted, tucking the book onto a shelf of the cutting table. Theo held her wine-stained bag in his hands as he stood.
“You have to let me apologize somehow,” he argued.
“It’s not a big deal. I have other bags.”
“And other books?” Effie could have melted under the heat of his gaze. He enjoyed this far too much. Wasn’t he just going to comfort her? Now, he goaded her with flirty looks he had no right to be sharing when he was on a date.
“Yes.” He kept staring. So did Talia. “Is this another thing you’re not going to let go of?”
“Decidedly not,” Theo asserted. “Let me apologize.”