Page 37 of The Holiday Grump
“And then you had to find her a place? Because you can’t help but get involved.”
“What’s this about? You wanna take her?”
“I would, but I have a feeling you’d bite my head off.” He winked, slapping a load of grout on the floor, then handing me the float. “Can you carry on? I’ll start from the other end, and we can meet in the middle, then we wash and let it dry for thirty minutes while we grab beers, then the final clean, and it’s done.”
I took the float and did my best to mimic Jackson’s movements, happy to see a glimpse of what the finished floor would look like. No more picking my way across the ugly, gutted floor when I needed to use the bathroom. No more ruining socks walking on rough concrete. Why had I lived like that for so long?
Jackson grabbed a sponge and showed me how to wipe the tiles without pulling out too much of the grout. “Keep it light,” he said. “Like you’re stroking her hair, postcoital.”
“Whose hair?” I grumbled.
He ignored me. “I, for one, think it’s healthy that you’re noticing someone. But remember what I’ve told you about local girls? This is someone who works next door and you’ll see regularly. And now she’s living in your store…” He paused for effect, giving me a careful look. “I told you, I’ll take you out. A weekend in Bangor. We’ll blow off some steam and find you a hot date.”
“I don’t need a?—”
“I mean a nice bookish lady who’s turned on by that whole mental patient slash professor vibe,” he corrected, gesturing at my outfit.
I glanced at my fluffy slippers, corduroy pants, and bathrobe. “I was going forThe Big Lebowski.”
“See! Even your movie references are dated. At this rate, you’ll end up with a menopausal woman.”
“Noelle thinks elbow patches are sexy,” I countered, then immediately froze, wishing I could reel the words back in.
Jackson halted, too, holding a measuring tape between his hands, like he was using it to assess the credibility of my words. Twenty inches of bullshit.
“She said that?”
I nodded.
“In actual words?”
I nodded again.
“To you?”
I groaned in frustration. “She says a lot of things. Blurts them out like a broken radio. It’s not that deep.”
“But she said it to you.” He narrowed his eyes. “She’s into you!”
“She’s curious. She’ll be into someone else tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “No. She’s intoyou. I’m sure there’s a sexy dude wearing elbow patches in a catalog somewhere, but the way you do it? Nobody finds that sexy. Trust me.”
He had a point.
“I guess there’s just not that much to do in Hideaway Harbor.”
“She wants to doyouto alleviate her boredom?” Jackson gave me a look.
“Either way, she’s only in town for the holidays.”
Jackson’s eyes widened as the realization took hold. “That’s right! Because she sells tinsel and shit!”
I nodded because a lot of what that store contained was indeed shit.
“Stay away from her. I mean it.” I couldn’t help the words from flying out of my mouth.
Jackson laughed. “I’m not going after her! But you should. Have a holiday fling. Distract yourself from… you know. It’s perfect.”
