Chapter 13 Olivia
Olivia
“Abig night? You have a date?” I felt a stab of jealousy hit me right in the gut.
Sam laughed.
“Yeah, I’m going to hang out with my cat Leo, order a pizza, and watch the baseball game.”
“That does sound fun,” I teased.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Going to the symphony? The opera?”
I ignored the dig because it wasn’t that far off from my usual nighttime activities.
Or at least it had been my usual. Something had changed for me.
Getting arrested, working here, it had made me take a long, hard look at myself.
Maybe people assumed I was a vapid rich girl because that’s the face I presented to the public. It was time to change that.
“I’m meeting with a realtor. I’ve been looking for a house.”
We hadn’t gotten too far though, partly because I was unable to articulate what kind of house I wanted.
“Are your parents finally pushing you out of the nest?” she asked as we locked up the house and headed to the parking area.
“No, but it’s way past time for me to be out on my own.”
“Won’t you miss Marta?”
“I’d totally steal her if I could, but my mother would murder me,” I confessed. “But I did ask Marta to teach me how to cook some things for myself so I’m not totally helpless.”
“Wow, you’re full of surprises today Princess.” We paused in the space between my car and her truck, and she gave me a long look. “I’ll see you Monday, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, you can count on it.”
As I drove home to shower and change for my appointment with the realtor, I thought about that scene in the kitchen – the squirrel, the hug, the praise from Sam that made me feel warm and fuzzy. Being recognized for something was a nice change.
I wondered what Sam would have said if I’d asked to come share a pizza with her.
Would she have invited me over? Or told me that we couldn’t hang out together?
I knew she occasionally did things after work with Barney and the other guys.
Maybe I should suggest it, because when we were together at work, Sam was strictly professional.
But when we were alone, I started to see the chinks in her armor.
When I’d pulled back from that hug tonight her nipples had been pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt, despite the warm temperatures, and a pulse was beating madly in her neck.
She was as affected by me as I was by her. Of that I had no doubt.
***
“What the hell is this?”
I exchanged grins with Barney as Sam hurried out of her office, my gift in her hand.
It was a custom made toolbox painted pink, her name outlined in tiny diamonds.
I’d met the artist Dahlia Foster at a fundraiser a few years ago.
She was a genius with wood, crafting jewelry boxes, curio frames, candy dishes, and other cool things out of local wood that she reclaimed from the forest.
There was enough forest land within driving distance of Seattle that it was pretty easy to find enough fallen branches and toppled trees for her projects.
She’d never made a toolbox but had been excited about the challenge. I thought she’d done a wonderful job, especially on such short notice.
“Do you like your gift, boss?” I asked.
Sam held up the box, looking between it and me while the rest of the crew watched the scene. “It’s pink.”
She said this like the color was illegal or something.
“I wanted to give you something to remember me by when I’m done with my assignment,” I said.
She lifted the box closer to her face, examining the design in the light streaming through the window.
“Please tell me these aren’t real diamonds.”
“I can’t tell you that,” I said.
She stalked closer, shoving the toolbox towards me. “This is too expensive, I can’t take it.”
“It’s a custom design, I can’t return it,” I said. “And I don’t know anyone else named Sam that I can give it to, so if you don’t want it, toss it in the dumpster.”
I shrugged like it didn’t matter either way, but the truth was I wanted her to keep it. I’d had it made special for her and while I knew the pink wouldn’t be her favorite, I was still hoping that she’d like it. That when she used it, she would think of me.
She looked at me like I’d suggested that she murder a puppy.
“You want me to throw a diamond encrusted toolbox into the trash?” she asked, hugging it close to her chest like she thought I was going to take it back from her. “No way.”
She walked away, still cradling the toolbox to her chest, and Barney and I exchanged a grin.
“I betcha five bucks she uses it,” he stage whispered. “She has a hidden girlie side she doesn’t like people to know about.”
Hmm, that was interesting.
Sam didn’t say a word about the toolbox for the rest of the day, but when I went into her office for something it was sitting on her desk, right next to her phone and water bottle, a few items already stacked inside.
I noticed that her water bottle was beat to hell, all chipped and dented. I made a mental note to order her one of the special water bottles everyone talked about. She deserved to have nice things, and it was easy for me to provide them, but I had a bad feeling that Sam wouldn’t see it that way.
I’d have to find other ways to woo her. Like more of Marta’s cupcakes.
On Friday of my third week, I planned a surprise for the whole crew.
“Don’t bring a lunch tomorrow,” I told them the day before. “I have a surprise for you.”
The guys had all seemed thrilled, but Sam had just rolled her eyes, muttering about spoiled princesses. But she was right there alongside the rest of us when we heard the noise of a vehicle coming up the gravel road right at noon.
“Is that a food truck?” Barney asked.
“Wait, that’s Manny’s isn’t it?” Jose said, recognizing the distinctive decorations on the food truck. “You got us Manny’s?”
“Surprise!” I said, making a ta da motion with my hands. “Tacos on me. Or whatever you want.”
“Damn it, Manny’s is my favorite taco truck,” Sam said as she walked up to me.
We stood side by side in front of the living room window watching as the guys rushed out to the truck like a swarm of locusts.
“I know, that’s why I picked them.”
She gave me a surprised look. “How did you know?”
“You mentioned it one day when we were all talking about our favorite food carts. You were saying how the best gig you had was when you re-did some condos near the food cart pod and that you ate Manny’s almost every day for a month.”
She seemed surprised that I’d remembered.
“Well their carnitas are like crack,” she said. “Have you tried them?”
“No, I’ve never eaten at a food truck before,” I admitted.
Sam shook her head, then grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the door. The heat of her fingers seared my skin.
“You’re in for a treat then, my friend.”