Page 17 of Tattle Tail
“Hello, sweet pea,” Joseph said with a wink. Pre-flight safety checks could wait a minute. Something far more interesting walked onto the landing pad.
He scrambled down the ladder and draped one arm over Peaceable’s shoulder. He pulled her in for a loose, one-armed hug, conscious of his grimy hands. Safety checks involved a lot of crawling around on the floor, looking at valves, and reading meters. It got dirty.
“I know you said no hanky-panky at work, but I don’t think I can wait until dinner tonight,” he teased.
Peaceable’s ears pushed back, and her tail slinked close to her body. Was she embarrassed? Oh, this wasn’t even him trying to embarrass her.
She pushed his arm off her and took a full step away. “I want you to know that this was not my idea.”
“I thinkthiswas very much your idea, sweet pea. Fiancé? You jumped straight to that. Buy a guy dinner first.”
Truthfully, he did not entirely understand why he played along with the fiancé pretense. If a friend needed him to tell a little fib or play a role, he’d do it without hesitation, but Peaceable was not a friend. He wasn’t certain what she was to him. Not a rival, not an enemy, but definitely not a friend. Maybe he just wanted to watch her squirm, caught in a mess of her own making.
Mari’s teasing about pulling pigtails came back to him. He’d have time to think about it once he was in the air. Pre-flight safety checks were not the time to be distracted.
“I need to know if you have any allergies or dietary restrictions,” she said, sounding all business.
A grin spread across his face. She could have easily sent a message, but she trudged out in the cold to the landing pad. To ask about allergies.
“Is that why?” He glanced down at her delicate-looking leather shoes, splattered with mud. The thin wrap was suitable for a drafty office, not outdoors.
She shivered. Perhaps Peaceable didn’t entirely understand her need to see him.
“Are you sure? Is there anything else you need? Kiss your fiancé goodbye?” he asked. Heat crept into his voice, and her cheeks darkened. She was too easy to tease.
“Yes. I mean, no. Just about dinner,” she quickly said.
“No allergies. I’ll eat anything as long as it doesn’t have a face.” He did not appreciate his meal staring back at him. He once ordered a pickled fish dish from a Fremmian place, expecting to get a fillet, not the entire fish, pickled and watching him.
“A face?”
“No eyes, no faces.” He shuddered. “I eat meat, but I don’t want dinner looking at me.”
“No faces,” she said. “I should get back…”
“Wait a minute.” He touched her arm, making her pause. He leaned in close. The scent of the lightly perfumed powder on her skin smelled so damn good. He whispered in a low voice meant only for her, “I can’t wait until dinner.”
She shivered, this time not from the cold.
Peaceable
What was wrong with her? Peaceable had typed out the message to call off dinner, drop the fake fiancé business, and eventually come clean to her mother, but she could not send it. A break-up, even a fake break-up, should be done in person. Etiquette mattered.
Only once she got to the landing pad, Joseph had a sheen of sweat on his brow and a bit of grease on his cheek. He had a distinct odor that was…not unpleasant. Musk, rain, and heat. Her brain ceased functioning properly.
Something must have been wrong with her. Perhaps a virus. It felt like she hardly knew herself.
He had been gracious enough not to call out her pathetic lie—again.
She picked up a meal on the way home, unwilling to risk cooking. While a competent cook, she was too distracted and would burn dinner. Peaceable knew herself well enough to know that. Whatever had affected her behavior recently had not changed that.
In the brief window of time she had, she tidied up her apartment. Joseph did not need to see her dirty laundry on the bedroom floor.
Not that he would see her bedroom. This was not a date. It was a business meeting. Still, she put fresh linen on the bed and ran the bot to clean the floors. If Joseph peeked into her bedroom out of curiosity, she wanted it to look inviting.
No, she mentally corrected herself. Presentable. There were to be no invitations to the bedroom tonight. Or tomorrow.
Anticipation simmered in her stomach.
