Page 269 of Small Town Firsts
I shoved up my glasses to perch on my head and went to refill my wine while I waited for April to reply. Now that I’d moved away from my desk, I realized I was hungry but not enough to go for a full meal.
The heat of the late afternoon had left me a little sweaty and always curbed my appetite.
I opened my tiny fridge in my equally tiny galley kitchen. There definitely wasn’t much to go on in there. Ireallyneeded to go shopping. Spotting spreadable wine cheese on the top shelf, I smiled—yes, please.
I hip-checked the door closed and reached for the box of Triscuits in the overhead cabinet. I shook the box with a disappointed sigh and didn’t bother with a plate. I’d definitely be finishing off the meager rattle of thin salty treats. I tucked my wine tumbler into the crook of my arm and padded over to the modernized Rococo couch that I’d bought from Kinleigh & August’s Attic.
Kinleigh Scott and her husband, August, were good friends of mine. Since they’d hooked up, there had been a lot more interesting rehabbed furniture in their combined stores. So far, I’d added two of their pieces to my little studio, the couch being my favorite. The back and sides of the sofa were hand painted in a gorgeous lavender, gray, and blue paisley. The over the top Baroque-style leaves and scroll work were painted a deep dark plum to offset the softer colors. The velvet upholstery was a few shades lighter.
It was like the universe knew I’d needed it to go with my tapestry rug and array of framed prints that made up the corner of my apartment. Just beyond the one good window, I had a huge cubed bookcase—one of August’s builds—as a room divider jammed with my collection of tarot and crystals. The other side held my bed with a special drawer the size of my full bed for storage below the frame, courtesy of Kinleigh’s clever mind.
A double-door closet had been turned into my podcast recording space. My clothes made for great noise buffering.
The other half of the apartment was my art studio, meager kitchen, and child-sized bathroom with standing shower.
It wasn’t much, but it suited me. When I had a hankering for television, I had a cool little projection unit that hooked up to my iPad so I could watchThe Golden Girlson the one bare wall in my place.
I glanced at my phone—no reply yet.
While I waited, I pried the top of my cheese spread open and scooped some out. My cheese to Triscuit ratio was definitely out of whack. I shrugged and popped it in my mouth as my phone buzzed.
Instead of April’s name, the distinct letters I’d plugged into my contacts glowed from the screen.
PMS.
I licked off a stray bit of cheese from my thumb and read the preview.
PMS:
I apologize for my behavior yesterday. I should not have contacted you after business hours. Nor should I have spoken to you with such familiarity.
Mercy, this dude had an iron rod shoved up his butt. I unlocked my phone and folded myself into the corner of my couch. Who the hell talked like that outside a Regency romance? I only knew because that was my mom’s favorite genre lately. I’d filched one of the old, scarred books with Fabio or some lookalike on the front the last time we’d had lunch.
She got them for like a dollar a bag at the library. She wouldn’t miss it. Probably.
Before I could reply, another text came through.
PMS:
I hope we can clean the slate and start again.
My slate’s in good shape. Takes a lot more than that to get my panties in a twist.
And there I went with the inappropriate talk. I couldn’t help myself. Hopefully, he wouldn’t turn out to be a troll when I got to the office on Monday.
Not that it mattered one way or the other. Maybe it would be better if hewasa troll. Temporary boss and all that. Who needed eye candy I couldn’t act on?
Either way, I’d definitely have donuts in hand.
I quickly typed off another text.
Guess I’ll just have to do your cards tonight to make sure we’re on the right path.
I wasn’t sure what had possessed me to say that. The little chat bubbles came up and stopped, and then resumed and stopped again. Maybe I’d gone too far.
Maybe?That was basically my life motto.
I scooped out another slab of cheese for my…man, only four crackers left?Ugh.I wiped my hands and retrieved my review deck and went back to my couch. I shuffled as I thought about the ever-repressed Preston Shaw.
