“You look at me like you’ve thought of the worst insult possible and you’re just choosing not to say it,” I observed.
She smiled blandly. “Self-control is easier for some than others,” she noted.
I studied her. “What does that mean? Is it just me, Dair, or is she plotting my murder? Behave yourself, Ro.”
“Perish the thought,” she returned without missing a beat.
I grinned.
My phone dinged a text at me. It was a video sent from me, from my laptop messages to my phone messages.
I squinted my eyes at her. “Did you just send me a video from my own computer?”
“It’s very important; you should watch it right away.”
I played the video. It was of a gray cat with folded ears hugging a stuffed pink bunny.
Aww. Wasn’t that sweet? How strange and random. Why would she send me something sweet right now?
Aha! There it was. As the video kept playing, the cat’s hugging turned into a solid maul. I watched, bemused, as it proceeded to tear the pink bunny’s head clean off.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I told her.
We shared a smile.
Oh, she was just too much fun. I was tickled.
Dair was looking at me strangely, and I ignored it.
Nothing to see here.
When he left, I hit my home gym. I made Ro workout with me, staying close to take notes if I thought of anything.
“You know you can get voice to text software for this, right?” she asked. “You don’t need an actual extra human here to jot things down for you.”
I waved off that bit of sass. “Don’t mess with my process. Your workout gear is the most hideous clothing I’ve ever seen, by the way.
She was on the bike beside my treadmill, plodding along sedately while I busted my ass.
She glanced down at herself. Her oversized gray sweatshirt and sweatpants made her look like she’d gained fifty pounds instantly. Even her shoes were hideous, dingy white and clunking. “I got a really good deal on them. Five dollars for everything I’m wearing, can you believe it? I’m a sucker for a bargain.”
I cringed. I couldn’t. I honestly couldn’t believe that she thought that atrocious ensemble was worth five dollars. “Oh my God,” I burst out. “Well, stop it. I’ll give you a clothing allowance if you’ll just burn everything you own in a fire.”
She laughed.
It was a very nice laugh, rich and bright. Something in my chest grew warm at the sound.
“I don’t mind my clothes,” she finally answered, “but I do mind being wasteful, so no thank you.”
I was onto weights when my workout brainstorming finally bore fruit.
“Sanguine,” I told Ro.
“Sanguine?” she repeated back.
“Yeah. Just write down that word. It will trigger the rest of the idea I just had.”
“Are you sure?” she asked me. “Want to give me a few more details?”
“Nope. Sanguine.”
“You don’t want me to write anything except for the word sanguine?”
“Trust me,” I said with complete confidence.
It was a few hours later, and I was shooting hoops in my indoor basketball court when I asked Ro to read my brainstorming notes back to me.
“You only had one,” she told me.
“Okay. Read it.”
“Sanguine.”
“Sanguine?” I stopped dribbling the ball. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
Her reply was expressionless and absolutely perfect. “I guess you were pretty sanguine about only having me jot down this one word note.”
“Smartass,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
It was a few hours later, and I was swimming laps while she watched me, her hands on her hips.
“You know,” she laid into me when I came up for air, “the first thing you said to me today was that you weren’t supposed to be doing anything but writing, and everything we’ve done today has had nothing to do with writing.”
“That’s not true. I brainstormed with Dair, and again when we worked out.”
“That’s right. I forgot about sanguine. I’m pretty sure we’ve reached the part of the day where you’ve procrastinated enough that I’m supposed to be putting you in check, right? With threats and such?”
I was intrigued. I tilted my head back to look at her straight on. “Yeah, probably. Whatcha got?
“If you don’t get five hundred words written in the next half hour, I’m going to make you watch an entire episode of Fuller House.”
Oh, she was good.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS REMARKABLE how well Ro settled into her new job in just a few short days. She seemed to learn everything on the first try. I never had to tell her anything twice, even when it looked like she wasn’t listening. Hell, half the time I didn’t even have to tell her once. She had a much better idea of her job duties than I did.
It had only been four days, but I could already feel my life becoming less chaotic, my work life more productive.
Also, and much more importantly, more fun.
I woke up and went straight to the kitchen, where she was just finishing up with the coffee.
She’d prepared me a perfect cappuccino, but I didn’t reach for it, instead I took a long drink of her too sweet latte, grimacing as I set it down.
“You want some coffee with that sugar?” I asked her.
“That wasn’t yours.” She pointed at mine.
“Oh,” I grabbed mine, playing dumb.
“You knew that was mine. Why do you love stealing the first drink of my coffee when you know it’s too sweet for you?”
I didn’t tell her that it was because of the way her nose wrinkled up when I did it. Annoying her was fun for me. I got way too big of a kick out of it.
I grabbed my cup, taking a long swig of it.
“Your cappuccinos are life-changing,” I told her appreciatively, “I’m hooked. Totally addicted.”
“Addiction isn’t funny,” she said in her perfect deadpan way.
“Sure it is.”
We shared a smile, mine big, hers just a slight upturn at the corner that showed her amusement with me. I really liked that smile.
“How did you know I’d just woken up?” I asked her.
“I didn’t. I got lucky. I was just about to take off, and I figured I’d leave you a cappuccino in the hopes that you’d come down before it got cold.”
My eyes narrowed on her. “Take off? Why would you take off?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“Is it?” I asked. I wasn’t that great with days of the week. “Okay, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“I need Sunday mornings off. I thought we went over this when you hired me.”
I just kept looking at her, brows drawn together in confusion. “That thing about church? I thought that was a joke.”
“Well, it wasn’t. I have church on Sunday mornings, and I don’t like to miss it.”
Well, hell. “How long does church take?”
“Around an hour.”
I noticed for the first time that she was dressed somewhat differently than normal. She was wearing a dress. It was hideous, but it had flowers on it, and it did look vaguely like something a person might wear to church.