Page 62 of Roommate
He turns to me with a surprisingly heated gaze, and it catches me off-guard. Roderick is thinking about sex right now. Sex with me. Hallelujah. There’s hope for me yet.
“Look,” I say. “I’m down for anything. But you should know that I meant cooking lessons.” And I can’t help smiling, even if my face is turning red.
“Oh!” He throws his head back and laughs. “Of course. I’m sorry. You should have spoken up sooner. I’ve just been—”
“Super busy working extra shifts. I know.”
“Yeah, but I made a promise. Tomorrow night? Unless you’ve got chores?”
“I’ll get out of it,” I promise. Now that the cold weather is upon us, I don’t have to work as hard. My dad’s back is still a mess, but there isn’t as much farm work. “What do we need from the grocery store?”
He rubs his hands together. “I’m not sure yet. It will be a game-time decision. Let me handle the shopping.”
“Sure.” I pull twenty bucks out of my wallet and hand it to him. “For my half. I’ll be home by six.”
“Great.” He puts the money away. “See you then.”
Roderick
I spend parts of the following morning daydreaming about cooking with Kieran.
Unfortunately, daydreaming is bad for business. Happy thoughts about a certain hot farmer distract me as I’m tallying up a catering order. And I end up undercharging the buyer.
So I do the only reasonable thing and put fifteen bucks of my own money in the till.
Ouch. That’s what I get for letting my mind wander to a man that I’ve already sworn off of once. You’d think I’d learn.
We’re going to be cooking tonight, damn it. Just cooking.
When the work day finally ends, I head to the grocery store. I buy all the ingredients to make a roast pork loin with ginger and lime, plus a mushroom risotto and green beans on the side.
I don’t buy the bottle of wine I was planning to pick up, because I spent that fifteen bucks already. Otherwise, my dinner plans are still on track. But after I load everything into the back of the Bug, things go wrong again. My engine starts up fine, but then abruptly cuts out when I shift into reverse. It just dies.
I should mention that I’m completely useless when it comes to cars. All I know how to do is put the key in and drive. Or call AAA. Which I do.
“Are you a member?” is the first question they ask.
“No, but maybe I should be.”
“I’ll need a credit card number.”
Yeah, I really should have seen that coming. “I don’t have a credit card, but I have a debit card. Or I can pay cash.” There’s a bank machine in view inside of the store. It’s the kind that charges an extra fee, but that’s the kind of day I’m having so I shouldn’t really be surprised.
“I can’t send out a tow truck without a credit card number.”
Of course you can’t. I hang up, because it’s either that or say something rude. I end the call and find the number for a local garage. But it’s now after five thirty, and they’re closed.
I’m ten miles from home, the temperature is dropping, and my pork loin and risotto need at least an hour’s worth of attention. What to do?
Out of ideas, I call Kieran to ask if he knows a mechanic.
“Sure,” he says, his rumbly voice soft in my ear. “What’s the problem?”
“I dunno,” I mumble. “Maybe I need a jump or something. What’s his number? Still hoping to cook this dinner.”
“Where are you?”
“In Montpelier, unfortunately.”
