Page 30 of Every Now and Then
He’s cute, maybe a little older than me, but his ornery smile makes him look younger. My first impression is that he seems like the type who was voted class clown in high school, but upon closer inspection, I amend my previous assumption. He’s too pretty. I bet he was the type who got caught under the bleachers with a different cheerleader each week.
“After eating at these types of events for years, I can give you the rundown. But the safest rule of thumb is to avoid seafood and mayonnaise. That shit goes bad fast.”
He’s wrong about the mayonnaise, but I don’t correct him. In scientific studies, commercially made mayonnaise, which has all kinds of preservatives in it, has been shown to slow the growth of bacteria when mixed with contaminated proteins.
Since I’m a closet nerd, as Laura says, I don’t tell him any of that, though.
“Well, thank you for your completely unsolicited, yet helpful, advice.”
“I do what I can, ma’am.” He tips his cowboy hat in my direction. His schtick is a little over the top, but there’s something charming about him.Yep, I think he got under more than one cheerleader’s skirt in his time.When he smiles, it’s infectious, and I can’tresist returning his grin. “You planning on sticking around here for a while? I need to get back to work soon, but I’d love to continue our conversation later.”
“Conversation? We’ve only exchanged a few words.”
“Then let’s exchange a few more, darlin’.” Again, over the top, but in a likeable way.
“Alright then. And to answer your earlier question, yes, I’m sure I’ll be here until the bitter end. I’m just tagging along with my best friend, and she’s a huge country music fan.”
“The bitter end, huh? Something about that statement makes me think you aren’t a fan.”
Given that he’s wearing a cowboy hat and boots, it’s obvious heisa country music fan. I don’t want to insult him, so I tell a little white lie. “It’s not my favorite music genre, but it’s growing on me.”
He presses his lips together to bite back another smile. “You looked like you were physically in pain when you said that.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “Or possibly constipated.”
A burst of laughter pops out of my mouth, loud enough to cause a few people nearby to turn and look. “Okay, fine. I don’t really care about country music. Satisfied?” I admit, rolling my eyes as he smiles.
“Think you’ll survive an entire night of this terrible country music?”
“I’ll survive.” Scrunching up my nose, I lean toward him, letting him in on a little secret. “I brought earplugs.”
He barks out a laugh, shaking his head, before glancing at the digital clock on the wall. “Look, I really have to get back to work, but I’ve enjoyed chatting with you. Any chance I could get your number? Maybe we could meet up for a drink this week?”
“Sure, that sounds fun.” He hands me his phone, and I type in my name and number. “I’m Anna, by the way.”
Grabbing my fingers, he surprises me by bringing them to his mouth and kissing the top of my hand. Such a flirt. “I’m Josh. It was a pleasure, Anna. I’ll call you so we can set something up for later in the week. Sorry to dash, but duty calls. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
That was strange. But fun. With the cushion of vodka, this flirting stuff is easier than I expected.
Handing me my drink, Laura gestures with her thumb to Josh’s retreating back. “Umm, who was that? And what just happened between you two?”
“That was Josh. He works here. And he asked me out for drinks,” I squeal, smiling.
“Hell’s bells! That was fast. Color me impressed!”
“The student has become the master,” I kid, elbowing Laura.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she laughs. “But that was good work.”
As the drinks flow, we chitchat about life. “How’s the home search going?”
“Not well. I can’t find anything suitable in Brentwood that’s in my price range. I'd hoped that by showing the girls new houses, they would get excited about moving, but everything we’re looking at is smaller and older than our current house. So, of course, they aren’t excited.“ I sigh, taking another long sip of my drink.
“Have you considered moving out of Brentwood?” Laura eyes me speculatively. “Claire and Grace are so young, and you don’t love their private school. It’s expensive, and everyone who attends is privileged and bratty. You always complain about how spoiled and out of touch with reality the families are.”
She’s not wrong. Grace and Claire attend Wesley Hall only because Kyle wanted them to. It was another item on hiskeeping up with the Joneseschecklist of success.
Big house—check.
Nice cars—check.
