10. Zeth #3
Obviously, I tried to avoid Amby’s gaze, and that made the walls feel like they closed in on me a bit.
What was he thinking? And why did I fucking care?
Before he visited, I didn’t care if my shirt was worn through or that I couldn’t serve tea.
But now, I hated feeling so exposed as a failure.
And when the very first drawer got stuck, I hated that too, because I couldn’t do anything. Amby watched a fool losing control.
I tugged harder, refusing to give up, and the top drawer squealed of warped wood against wood before giving in.
I managed to stop myself from flinging the damn thing out and set it on the floor with a sniff.
When I went for the two middle drawers, they moved with difficulty, but didn’t make me look like an idiot.
“I’ve got this last one,” Amby said, rushing over. He pulled off his jacket and handed it to Millie before squatting at my side. I stepped aside to watch him from above as he tried to pull the bottom drawer free. As if finally on my side, the dresser didn’t let go at all.
Amby was slim in good places but I saw his bare arms yesterday, and he’d grown some nice definition.
He wasn’t weak. I held the dresser top while Amby pulled until his face went red as he tried to maneuver it out.
Maybe he was playing around, or he really was having as much trouble as I did. Either way, I felt better.
When it finally budged free, Amby flew back on his ass with the drawer hitting his face.
He blinked his large brown eyes in a bit of a daze, and I feared he might have hurt himself, so I quickly bent to a knee at his side.
I inspected his face for injury while Amby dropped his gaze, and I found myself staring at the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose…
a nose that I was clearly viewing without gold frames.
“Fuck,” I exclaimed, looking around him, “Where’d your glasses go?”
“Here,” Millie chuckled. She nudged them with her foot, and I quickly rescued the fragile frames before she stomped on them. There was no knowing with my dearest sister.
I made sure the glasses weren’t damaged before carefully setting them over those wonderful freckles I used to kiss.
“Thank you,” Amby said softly.
I moved back to help him to his feet. Once standing, we stayed hand in hand for a moment, both of us frozen as we stared at each other. His palm was warm against mine, and I realized how good my fingers looked wrapped around his smaller ones.
When I glanced over at Millie, I found her blinking at us, her face a mixture of baffled and amused.
Amby withdrew his hand quickly. “Um, do you want to carry the dresser first, then come back up for the drawers?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Alright.”
I nodded. Short, and to the point. That’s how we should interact.
No need to get all bothered when all we were doing was moving furniture together.
I waved Amby over to the far side and positioned myself closer to the stairs.
Crouching, I placed my hand into an empty drawer space.
Amby moved to the other side, and I watched his form closely to make sure he didn’t hurt his back.
But his position was good, like he also knew what he was doing. I was impressed.
Amby caught my gaze around the dresser to ask, “Do you want to go first, or carry it from the top?”
Going first would place most of the load on me, and that’s what I wanted, so I offered, “I’ll be bottom.”
Amby’s eyes widened, and then he blinked. I hadn’t meant for my words to sound so… sexual. But I rendered Amby speechless, and I treasured how his face went red as a tomato before he quickly disappeared behind the end of the dresser.
“Ready when you are,” I heard him say.
I swallowed and ducked behind the dresser too, feeling far too much heat in my face for a simple day of moving furniture. I huffed to clear my head and found my words again.
“Ready,” I said, and damn my voice for dropping a few pitches. It sounded like I invited him to do something else. Thankfully, Amby ignored me and the dresser moved. I quickly grabbed on and lifted too until we had it in the air. “You good?”
“Yes, are you?” Amby tried to keep his voice steady through his little grunt. It was kinda adorable.
I led the way to the stairs, shuffling slowly. Amby followed along, looking a bit flushed and pinched, yet his grip appeared secure and his back straight, so I picked up my pace, and we reached the hall without issue.
The first step was always a challenge. I was about to say that when Amby gave me a nod to point out my position, and I believed his earlier bragging without a doubt. Why did he have experience moving furniture?
Maybe my face asked my question, because Amby tossed me a told-you-so look. I stuck out my tongue playfully at him and found the first step with my shoe’s tip before stepping down.
I continued faster as my confidence in us rose. This wouldn’t be so hard after all. Halfway down, Amby called from over the dresser top, “Still alright?”
“Yes, you’re doing well. I’m impressed.” The praise was warranted. He deserved it, and the words felt good for me too.
“Giving compliments now? You’re full of—” He grunted as he stepped down, “surprises.”
“I’m being serious. You’re good at this.” I don’t know why it felt like Amby needed to hear that. When he didn’t reply, I focused on the next step, then two, before saying what he really needed from me, “Thank you for your help.”
“I’m happy to help. You should come to my house sometime, and I’ll show you what I’ve been up to.”
“Is that flirtation? I’m being serious.”
“So am I. I have a few things I could give you for the laundry.”
The dresser slipped free from my left hand and crashed right into the wall with a loud bang.
It slammed into my shoulder with a solid thump that stole my breath and pushed me back, forcing my shoe to slip right off the step.
The sickening release felt like falling from a tree.
Without a doubt, I was about to bite the dust.
Then my shoe hit the tiled floor.
I didn’t die. Opening my eyes, the lower floor came into view.
“Fuck,” I muttered with relief, and rested my head against the angled dresser. Prayers would have been better than swearing, I guess, but I’m not a praying sort.
“Zeth, move!”
“Don’t think I can. I’m trying not to piss myself, thank you very much.”
Amby suddenly grunted, and the dresser shifted closer to me. When my shoes slid back against the tile, Amby motioned his curly head toward the floor where the dresser was still suspended a few inches from my feet.
“You make an excellent bookend,” his voice strained, “but I’m the one holding this thing up. I’m about to drop it on you.”
“Oh.” I swiftly pulled the dresser backward so we cleared the last few steps with a speed that might as well have been falling.
When Amby joined me at the bottom, relief washed through me just as Millie tried to descend the steps with a desperate grip to the railing.
The fear I had felt was all over her face.
“We’re alright,” I called up to assure her. I spread my arms out to show her I still had my limbs. “Go sit. We’re fine.”
She sent me a disbelieving look, but did as I said.
When I glanced toward Amby, he was heading for the front of the shop. The floorboards creaked beneath his shiny black shoes, stirring up dust from his steps. He stopped before the large windows, and the sunlight beamed down on him, making his auburn curls appear redder.
Curious, I walked over to see him holding his right hand at an angle in the light and pinching the base of his fingers.
My fears hitched as my gaze roamed over him. “What’s wrong?”
“You maimed me.” Amby didn’t meet my gaze, as if mad at me for putting him into such harm today.
But I knew that pout of his. He wanted my attention.
I leaned over and grabbed his hand with a huff.
And although his fingers were red and abused for sure, a close examination didn’t find any permanent damage.
He was throwing bait to me on purpose, and like an idiot I was taking it. Even if he was joking, if Amby said he was hurt, I wanted to help.
Millie always needed a distraction when in pain, so I ran a thumb into Amby’s shirt sleeve and rubbed his wrist with strong strokes. His smooth skin distracted me. Then I asked what I always asked Millie, “Is something broken? Can you wiggle your toes?”
Amby released a rough breath and eyed me sharply with disbelief. The distraction worked.
Sunlight shifted through the window, making Amby’s glasses sparkle. The delicate frame was still slightly bent from the fight in the lake. Or maybe the dresser drawer had dented them once more. Either way, the two glass ovals weren’t parallel. They sat roughly five degrees off from each other.
I wanted to fix them again, but Amby’s sulky mouth moved, so I shifted my focus to listen, but no words came out.
There was a smartass comment shuffling around in there somewhere, and the returning sass had me suppressing a grin.
This was the Amby I remembered. Not the shy thing he presented to Anna.
I deserved his teasing right now. I wanted it. Maybe the dresser hurting him was my fault. My hand had slipped after he offered me castoffs from his house.
“I got a splinter.” Amby pouted playfully as he held up his hand.
“Where?”
He blinked and pointed to the lower joint of his middle finger. “Here.”
I took his right hand gently in mine and grimaced as I finally saw a dark splinter wedged into his skin.
Damn, that really did look like it hurt.
I was a cad. I needed to fix this, better than I did with his glasses.
I smoothed my thumb over his palm, surprised and also glad he let me.
This close, I could see more scratches and nicks in his skin. What had caused them?
“You going to take it out for me?” he asked softly. “Or just stare at it?”
I met his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. I was enjoying holding his hand again, to be honest. His fingers were long and slender, and also calloused. I wondered what they’d feel like on me…
Clearing my throat, I raised his hand to my open mouth so I could suck the splinter out. I licked his soft flesh once to wet it and firmed my lips to apply pressure when Amby jerked his hand away so quickly, he seemed to disappear.
“What are you doing?” he laughed nervously.
“I don’t want your mouth…” and his flustered expression contradicted every damn thing he was about to say.
He’d taken a step back, but he sure as hell wanted my mouth on him.
He wanted me sucking, just not there. Not right now.
His eyebrows drew together, as if he might finish that statement, but he deflated and continued, “That’s not how to remove a splinter.
I’ve tried it before, and it hurts. We need tweezers, or a needle. ”
I adjusted my pants with a smile and shake of my head. “I don’t have those.”
He didn’t like that answer. “Epsom salt?”
I didn’t even know what that was. Who had fancy salt? “No.”
“Then white vinegar sometimes does the trick, mixed with water.” This time, he looked hopeful, like everyone should have vinegar. And maybe they should, if they cooked. Or cleaned. We used to have a big jar.
This was getting embarrassing. I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced toward the laundry room with its pump and well. “I have water.”
When he didn’t reply, I felt myself sweating over how pathetic I sounded in an empty laundry that was my only asset.
The stark-white envelope I left on the counter only made it worse, threatening to take the laundry away from me.
Ambrose Somerset won. He exposed my con.
I was gold-digging, and now my chances of a comfortable life, my chances of owning epsom salt, whatever-the-fuck-that-was, were over.
He messed it all up by making me care about his stupid hand.
I lost my future over a splinter. Pinching my nose wouldn’t change a damn thing, but I tried.
“Just water?” he asked, almost sounding concerned.
I spun on Amby so fast he flinched. And that made me laugh like the madman I repressed during his whole visit.
With the laughter came spite, “That’s all I have, alright?
Water. So go ahead, go tell Anna how poor I am.
Tell her how you brilliantly tricked me by coming here and revealing my con with your pouty lips that tugged on my sympathy.
Your romantic words yesterday about mourning me.
Who’s the fucking liar here? So you win Anna.
And don’t bother inviting me to your wedding, ’cause I don’t have anything nice to wear. ”
“Zeth…” he sighed, his face falling. “I would never spy on you.”
I scoffed. “That’s the whole reason you’re here right now, to expose me, to distract me!
And to deliver this—” I grabbed the letter, crumpled it into a ball, and lobbed it at his head.
It flew so far off target that Amby didn’t even need to duck.
“You’re trying to seize my inheritance too, aren’t you?
Well, your strategy played out perfectly. ”
Amby shook his head. “Why would I steal your inheritance from you? You’re talking out of your ass.”
“Get out.” I couldn’t stand the sight of him.
It was foolish to let him into my residence and into my trust. Once again, my hopes got dashed, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Amby was just the latest person to betray me.
My stomach twisted, and I stormed to the front door to rip it open.
The glass rattled as I turned on Amby, “Get the fuck out of my life.”
My rage echoed in the empty space, and Amby’s brow gathered.
But he pulled up his mailbag and walked out the door.
He put his hand on his head before stopping, realizing he didn’t have his cap.
Or his jacket. Amby turned slightly, as if he might come back to retrieve them, but when he saw my displeased face, he quickly turned back on his heel and left.