Chapter 10 Olena
OLENA
Alone in my bedroom that evening, I open my laptop to check my bank account for the tenth time this weekend.
I’ve been watching my balance steadily circle the drain, feeling more and more anxious about my dwindling funds with each passing day.
When the page loads this time, however, I almost yelp with joy at what I see: my last Seattle client has finally paid me.
Relief washes over me. I immediately call the repair shop that’s holding my car hostage and tell the man who answers that I’ll be there tomorrow morning to pay what’s owed and pick it up. I hang up and exhale loudly.
Thank you, universe. Finally, I’ll have my own way out to the Faulkner property on Monday. This is perfect timing so I can get to work. At the property. With Jude.
Jude. Images of him float into my mind. That first moment when he lifted his umbrella and I saw those green eyes. The way his hair fell in front of his face when he was concentrating on his notes. The devilish grin on his face after he gave me the protein bar.
I open my portfolio and pull out his business card. Sharpe Blades Landscaping.
I type it into the search engine before I can think better of it.
His website loads to show smiling faces in beautiful gardens, happy customers standing on pathways, and laughing families picnicking on grass.
I click through the gallery of images but don’t find any of Jude.
I catch myself feeling slightly deflated and search for Jude Sharpe Lennox Valley instead.
No social media profiles. Weird. I find one tiny, low-quality group photo from four years ago, evidently from a fundraiser for the Lennox Valley Conservation Society that was profiled in the local paper.
Zooming in on the photo just makes it blurrier.
I squint at the screen, trying to make out which guy in a ball cap is him…
I jump at the knock on my door, slamming my laptop shut in a panic.
“Yeah?” I squeak, my strange voice giving me away. I clear my throat.
What the hell am I doing?
Wyatt opens the door and peers in with a puzzled expression. “Everything cool?”
“Yup, just working. You know, getting things ready for Monday.” I smile awkwardly with over-exaggerated pleasantness.
“Okay…” Wyatt eyes me suspiciously. “Anyway,” he says, gesturing to the door with his thumb, “I was just gonna let you know Sam and I are heading out to grab dinner in about ten minutes.”
“Oh, awesome, have a great time.”
He turns to leave.
“Oh, and hey, I finally got paid!” I do jazz hands to accentuate the significance of this news.
“Oh my God, it’s about time!” he says, sagging with relief against the doorframe. “So happy to hear that.”
“I know. Now I can get my car back tomorrow,” I add.
“That’s perfect timing with the new job.”
“I know, right?”
Wyatt steps into my room to give me a quick hug, reminds me not to get sucked into working late, then leaves, shutting the door.
I open the laptop again and immediately close the browser tabs with Jude’s website and the news article.
Digging out my notebook, I take a breath to reset myself, reviewing my scribbled notes from the tour.
I try to jot down some additional ideas, but nothing comes to me.
Pulling up my design software instead, I hope that will work to get me in the zone.
I stare at the screen blankly and try to force my brain to think through the design steps that are usually second-nature to me. Uh, trees. There were trees.
I’m having trouble focusing. Thoughts of Jude’s abrupt exit on Thursday are hogging all my mental bandwidth, my humiliating hoodie mishap this morning coming in at a close second.
Why do I always embarrass myself in front of him?
I get as far as saving a blank file in a folder named “Faulkner” before giving up on work.
I grab my favorite stress ball, the one with green glitter gel inside, and pace the room. Squeezing it and watching the green sparkles bulge out between my fingers, I try to channel some of my nervous energy, but all my thoughts return to one person.
What was going through Jude’s mind, anyway? First he gave me a snack, then turned cold and bolted. Then, this morning at the park, I could have sworn he was almost flirting with me…
He probably thinks you’re ridiculous. Because you keep acting ridiculous.
I’m still pacing when there’s another knock at my door.
“I’m back! I’m coming in!” Wyatt’s muffled voice calls out, as if concerned about what he’ll walk in on.
“Come in!” I call back impatiently, and Wyatt opens the door, peeking in at me again.
“Hey, did you want me to—” He stops mid-sentence, stepping into the room fully. “Are you sure you’re okay, babe?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.
“Uh, well, first of all, you’re about to pop that stress ball.”
I look down and release my death grip with a self-conscious smile.
“And when I came in here before, you looked like I caught you watching porn. What gives?” He smirks at me.
“I don’t know what you mean; I’m fine,” I lie with a weak smile.
“You just look like you’re… working out some tension,” he says carefully.
“Just some job stress, is all. Butterflies, I guess.” I know I don’t look the least bit convincing.
“Uh-huh,” Wyatt says slowly, narrowing his eyes at me. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that tall drink of water who was giving you bedroom eyes while you choked on your hair this morning, would it?” He smiles knowingly.
I roll my eyes and let out a groan. “Nat told you?”
“Oh, every glorious detail.” He’s grinning at me. “It sounds like hunky lumberjack was a bit of an understatement.” He raises his eyebrows.
I collapse on the bed in defeat. “Ugh, Wyatt, what am I going to do? I have to work alongside this man. And I can’t go five minutes without acting like a total mess in front of him.”
“Oh, honey.” Wyatt sits down on the bed beside me, rubbing my back. “Don’t give yourself a hard time about being… yourself.”
My eyes widen and I turn to see Wyatt grinning and bracing for impact. I tackle him, slapping playfully at his arms and chest as I knock him over onto my bed. “Rotten human!”
“I take it back!” Wyatt gasps between fits of laughter. “I couldn’t help myself! Mercy! Mercy!”
“How dare you!” I shriek, laughing despite myself as he cackles below me. Defending himself, he finally catches both my forearms in his hands, stopping us both.
His eyes are watering from laughter. “Seriously,” he gasps. “Seriously. I didn’t mean it. How can I make it up to you? Tell me your demands. Anything.”
Still perched over Wyatt on the bed, I narrow my eyes in mock resentment and think for a moment. “Bring me dinner when you come home and we’re even.”
“Deal!” He lets go of my arms and wriggles out from under me. Standing, he straightens his shirt and wipes his eyes. “I really didn’t mean it, you know. You’re not a mess; you’re perfect.” He leans over to kiss me on the cheek.
“That’s more like it,” I reply, giving him a rueful smirk. “Now, go get me dinner, errand boy.” I lift my chin at the open door.
He retreats in supplication, averting his eyes, and I throw a pillow at the door as he closes it.
I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, sighing deeply. What am I going to do?
My phone rings and I get up to grab it from the desk.
Fuck. I don’t recognize the number. Again.
Nausea suddenly replaces all the giddy energy from wrestling with Wyatt. I reject the call and put the phone down. I wait a minute, frozen in place, my heart beating rapidly, to see if I’ll get a voicemail notification. Instead, the text notification chimes.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
I know this is your number. Stop ignoring me.
I feel ill. I delete the message as fast as I can, block this new number, and toss the phone back onto the desk with a clatter.
Inhaling a steadying breath, I walk back to the bed and sit down slowly.
I look warily across the room at my phone, as if sheer force of will can make Sean stop trying to contact me.
What the fuck am I going to do?