Page 20 of Man Hands
“I’m going toGoogleyou.”
“No!” I bark, and she practically drops her phone. “Sorry. What if you didn’t? I mean, there’s just a bunch of people yapping on the internet. You should make up yourownmind.”
Her eyes widen. “You mean youhavefans?”
“Well, sure. A few.” I have millions. But only a dick says so. And I do not want her to sit across from me at this table and read my Wikipedia entry. Before last winter, I wouldn’t have had any problem with it. Before The Incident, I liked all the female fans’attention.
Notanymore.
“Okay,” she says slowly, dropping her phone into her purse. “Then you can’t look me up,either.Deal?”
“That’s fair,” I agree. “Only now I’m desperate to know what you don’t want metosee.”
She grins. “The selfie cam on Ash’s phone hates me. Every shot is like this.” She grabs her face and squeezes, distorting her cheeks. “I looth like a Hobbit,” she explains through a puckered face, and then we bothlaugh.
“I think you’re beautiful.Obviously.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m not sure I believe that from a guy who works intelevision.”
“It’s notThe Bachelor, Brynn. I renovatethings.”
“With tools?” She looks a littledreamy.
“Yeah.” Is there another way to renovate things? “Sometimes I just use my hands. Break things apart. Put them backtogether.”
“Oh,wow.”
We’ve been talking about me for a few minutes now, and that’s just rude. “What do you do?”Iask.
Shepales.
14Arm WrestlingChampion
Brynn
The wordssort of hang over the table in a speech bubble.What doyoudo?
I try on a few different responses in my mind.I’m unemployed, is the most accurate. But so unsexy.I’m a fireman. Fun, but a total lie. I don’t even know where I got that idea. Thanks,subconscious.
When Tom was Braht’s gardener, this was all so much lessconfusing.
“Well… It’scomplicated.”
He smiles at me, and his eyes lower a little, and I realize that this man, this god, this TV personality is ogling me. That’s right. He’soglingme. Well, he’s actually ogling my girls, but I’ll take it. I am not a woman who’s been ogled in a really long time, and it feels good. I sort of relax alittlebit.
“How is it complicated?” he asks, his eyes holding minethistime.
“Well, I’m not working in my field at themoment.”
“What’s yourfield?”
“English language and writing. I taught at a private college. I have a PhD in English. But I just got laid off from my job.” I saylaid offbecause that sounds way better thanfired.
He sits back in his chair a couple of inches. “You’re an academic?” He lickshislips.
