Читать книгу One Wish - Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 7

Two

When Cooper asked Troy about his plans for New Year’s Eve, Troy agreed to work. He hadn’t gone skiing and was getting a little bored—might as well make money. Even though the night was clear and cold, it was a party night and Cooper’s wasn’t where the party was. Cliff was packing a full house at his restaurant and would stay open past midnight to accommodate his revelers, but Cooper’s on the beach didn’t have patrons past eight o’clock.

At a little after eight Troy locked up and walked next door to Cooper’s house and brought him the contents of the till. Cooper and his wife, Sarah, were bundled up and had been sitting on the deck where an outdoor hearth blazed under a star-studded black sky. “I hear Cliff is going to shoot off some fireworks over the bay if the wind stays down,” Cooper said. “If we’re awake, we’ll have the best seats in town. The problem with having a house like this—you never want to leave it.”

“You look pretty comfortable. The fireworks might wake you up,” Troy said.

“We had invitations for New Year’s Eve,” he said.

“I’m sure,” Troy said, grinning. “Getting old, Cooper?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so. But look at you—working tonight and all washed up before nine...”

Troy was ready to move on. “I’m going to stop at the store, grab a six-pack and drop in on a friend.”

“Let me save you a trip,” Cooper said. He got up, went to the refrigerator and pulled out a six of Heineken bottles. “Will this cut it?”

“I wasn’t going to spend that much,” Troy said with a laugh. “What do I owe you?”

“Gimme a break,” Cooper said, waving him off. “Just get outta here and happy New Year. I hope the friend is female.”

“She’s female, but just a friend. I hope she’s home or I’ll end up at my apartment alone with a six-pack like a loser,” Troy replied.

“I guess calling ahead didn’t cross your mind?”

“I didn’t think about it,” Troy said. “Like I said, nothing special. Just a friend.”

But Troy had thought about it. He was completely prepared to find Grace not at home and he didn’t really care. Or she could be entertaining, which he’d kind of like to interrupt. Since Grace never brought out these boyfriends, he figured the only way he was likely to get a glimpse of one was to surprise her. What he’d really like to know was if Grace was as lonely as he was. Because two lonely people could negotiate a deal that would get them through. Why not?

He’d been thinking about her for the past couple of days, ever since she stopped by Cooper’s while he was working. Grace had been in Thunder Point a little longer than he had, but he was just discovering her. He’d run across her a few times with Iris; she made him laugh. She was cute. Pretty, actually, but not the kind of gorgeous or sexy that slapped him upside the head. If he was honest with himself, women like that made him nervous. Grace had a wholesome look about her, kind of freshly scrubbed and glowing. She was very small, like a woman in a girl’s body. But when she started talking, all traces of the girl vanished—she was clever and had a sassy, cynical wit. There was a sharp edge to her, like she’d lived a lot. She was full of the devil.

He privately acknowledged he was looking for a woman to spend some time with. The truth was, he hadn’t often been without one. This might be one of his longest stretches; he’d been too damn focused on a woman he couldn’t have. He wasn’t above brief liaisons but he preferred something a little steadier. For that, he had pretty rigid standards. First of all, appearance was important. Not the only criteria, but someone who made an effort, put her best foot forward, kept up her looks. Next, she had to like to play. Troy loved extreme sports and it was not required that a woman he was dating be into the extreme, but it was important she liked trying new things, liked being outside, enjoyed physical activity. Iris had fit those requirements. She appreciated the outdoors, liked hiking, biking, paddle boarding. And she’d liked watching his videos of his own more adventurous experiences. She’d covered her eyes sometimes, but she’d watched his white-water challenges, rock climbing, diving with sharks, whales, squid.

Troy wanted a woman who was a good sport, at least. Of course she had to be intelligent and have a sense of humor. And since he was on the rebound, it was probably a good idea if she wasn’t the clingy, needy type. That made Grace, who didn’t get serious, a contender. She seemed to be casually dating someone and that sort of thing was usually a turnoff, but not at the moment.

He knocked on her second-floor apartment door, not really expecting her to answer. He saw the curtain move and then the door opened. She was wearing yoga pants, heavy socks, an oversize, long-sleeved T-shirt and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He tilted his head and smiled at her. “You don’t have a date tonight?”

“Well, not at the moment.”

Troy tried looking past her. “Is the medieval knight here?”

She put a hand on her hip. “Did you want to come in, Troy?”

He lifted the six-pack. “If you’re not too busy. I brought beer. Sorry, I should’ve called.”

She held the door open for him. “I’m surprised you don’t have a date.”

“It’s not like I’m desperate,” he said, entering. He held out a beer for her, took one for himself, then opened her little refrigerator to stow the rest. “Oh-oh,” he said. It was stuffed. Small to begin with, there was no room for a six-pack.

“Here, I’ll do it.” Some maneuvering was involved in getting four bottles of beer into the little fridge and ditching the cardboard pack.

“You’re sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Come in, Troy,” she said, moving through the dinky kitchen to the couch.

There was a movie on Pause and a plate of something snacky on the coffee table. He peered at it.

“Pizza rolls. I was just watching a chick flick but it’ll keep. Now what’s up with you? And take off your shoes.”

He did as he was told, then sat on the far end of the couch. “Really, nothing. I worked at Cooper’s, which is why I don’t have a date or anything. It was dead tonight, and it was still early. I had about three choices—Cliff’s, Waylan’s or your place.”

“You could have taken that new Jeep up to North Bend or even Bandon. Found a lively bar. Party a little.” She picked up the plate and offered him a pizza roll.

“Thanks.” He chewed it and nodded. “Not bad. I didn’t feel like dealing with a bunch of strangers,” he said. “I just felt like some company before I go home.” He grinned at her. “And I thought maybe I’d run into one of your boyfriends.”

“Oh, so that’s your ulterior motive and the reason you didn’t call. I didn’t want to go out tonight. I went for a run.”

“A run? You don’t get enough exercise?”

“Short hours in the shop today. The nice thing about being a one-person operation, I can close early or open late if I want as long as I have a cell number for the shop. That way I can take orders anytime. In fact, if I’m available and someone needs something, I can run downstairs and make up an arrangement. But I knew there wouldn’t be any calls tonight and, God, it was beautiful on the beach. There were a few people out there—Sarah Cooper and her dog, a couple of teenagers, one older couple I’ve never met—maybe part-timers. And me. I like to work out, but there isn’t a gym around here that matches my oddball hours.”

“You work out?” he asked.

“Not regularly. Just a bike ride or jog. I don’t lift anymore—my arms and legs get enough of a workout in the shop. My flower girl calisthenics are enough. I add cardio just so I can drink a beer and eat pizza rolls.” She offered him the last one. After putting the empty plate back on the coffee table, she curled into her corner of the sofa, her knees under her chin. “Tell me about Christmas, tell me about your family. Are you close?”

“I guess. As long as we don’t have too much togetherness.”

“What does that mean?”

He took a pull on his beer. “I love my family. I do. We don’t all get together that often and when we’re gearing up for a family thing, I get excited. Then on the third or fourth day I want to kill my sister and shove my brother in a hole.”

She sat forward a little. “Really?”

“My sister can be a bossy bitch and my brother is a screwup. Jess was married at nineteen and they started trying to repopulate the world—my niece was born when Jess was twenty. Then came a nephew and another niece and she thinks she runs a tight ship but if you ask me, the ship is sinking. The kids are out of control, my brother-in-law, Rick, works as much overtime as he can—he’s a firefighter—the house is upside down and I think Rick likes the firehouse because it’s the only place there’s enough quiet to watch a game. And my brother, Sam, can be such an idiot. He’s twenty-one going on seven and my mother would cut his meat for him if she could. He’s spoiled and irresponsible. He doesn’t even walk his plate to the sink and he has to eat on the hour. He looks in the refrigerator and sees eight slices of leftover pizza, so does he ask if anyone wants some? Of course not—he eats them all.”

Her eyes were large. “Should I be sorry I asked?”

Troy took a breath. “Nah, I’m just coming off another successful family gathering. I should’ve stayed in the motel with my folks—it gets a little tight at my sister’s”

“Your parents stayed in a motel? Why?”

“Because they’re smart! But take ’em one day at a time and they’re great, they’re really great. Jess’s kids might be loud and messy and hyperactive, but they’re also happy! Rick’s such a great guy, I don’t know how Jess captured him. And when I got moody and wouldn’t tell anyone what was bothering me, Sam took me out on the town. Not that it’s much of a town. We must’ve hit three whole bars. Of course Sam wasn’t really trying to cheer me up as much as he was hoping to get laid, but then...” His voice trailed off.

“Then...?” she asked.

“When I was twenty-one, that was always foremost on my mind. No apologies.”

She giggled. “And now?”

“Not always foremost.”

“So you love your family, when you don’t hate them?”

“I’m crazy about them all the time—we just get on each other’s nerves. We’re typical, I think. I’ll say this—half the time I want to punch my brother and slap my sister, but if anyone ever laid a hand on either one of them, I’d take ’em out. Really, I don’t know how my folks lived through us. What about your family?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she got up, took the plate and her bottle to the little kitchen area, retrieved two fresh beers and returned to her corner of the couch. “There’s very little to tell. My father died when I was fourteen and I’m an only child. My grandparents are gone, one set before I was even born and the other set before I was eighteen. There are some very distant relatives, but if I met some of them even once, I don’t remember. I did get a letter from someone who claimed to be a cousin or half cousin or something, but he only wanted a loan.” She laughed. “He apparently didn’t know anything about me.”

“How did you respond?”

She smiled. “I wrote back that it was very kind of him to reach out, but I wasn’t making loans at this time.”

“No one, huh?” he asked. “Your mother?”

“Also gone,” she lied, looking away. She just wasn’t willing to get into all that. Plus, she’d told Iris that she was alone. “There are friends, but probably not as many as you have. The couple who owned the flower shop in Portland where I worked, we’re close and stay in touch. I talk to them every week and visit now and then. They not only trained me in the shop but took me under their wing. Good people. They’re in their sixties and never had children, which probably explains why they think of me as family, though we’re not. And there are a couple of other friends who also stay in touch—Mikhail, to name one, but he travels all the time so I never see him. That might be one of the reasons I became good friends with Iris—we have that absence of family in common. And there’s the fact that I bought her flower shop, of course. Sometimes I look at people like Iris...and...well, you—and I feel a little abnormal, like I should try harder...”

“Iris? And me?”

“You’re both so connected to people. Iris doesn’t have family, but she has more good friends than anyone I know. The whole town loves her. The school definitely leans on her. And your family isn’t around here, but I bet you talk to them every week.”

“Pretty much,” he admitted.

“You’re really involved with people, too. The school, Cooper’s, even Waylan’s. All over town, people yell hello! But the reality is, I was raised an only child, had a very solitary upbringing and I’m probably a little too comfortable being alone.”

“People around here are pretty friendly to you, aren’t they?”

“They are. That’s what I love about this town. But I’m kind of a loner.”

“But you’ve had a lot of boyfriends,” he reminded her.

“This is true. And they’ve all been amazing. I spend time with a guy who actually owns a plantation in South Carolina, a guy with a British title of some kind—viscount I think. There’s Malone—he owns a lobster boat on the East Coast, there’s a bar owner, a guy in the ski patrol, a navy SEAL...very interesting, sexy guys. But I own a flower shop—my time is precious.”

He tilted his head and peered at her. “I think you’re bullshitting me, Grace.”

She got off the couch and went to the wall unit, opening a cupboard under the TV and there, lined up neatly, was a tidy row of books—paperbacks and a few hardcovers. Below the books was a similar collection of DVDs. She left the doors standing open and went back to the couch. She gracefully extended a hand toward the bookcase. “My keeper shelves. From medieval knights to navy SEALs. And there’s Wrath...I’m afraid he’s a vampire, but a very nice and sexy vampire. They’re all mine.”

“Should we have a little talk about your medication, Gracie?”

She smiled. “I know they’re pretend boyfriends, Troy. But they never cheat and I haven’t had to get one single screening for an STD.” Then she giggled. “I don’t have space for a lot of storage and books so I do most of my reading on an e-reader, but I have a special collection there. I can’t be without them. What would I do if my e-reader wasn’t charged or I lost it?”

Troy felt a tug of some kind inside, somewhere in his chest. He knew it was a warning sign—it was too soon to feel affectionate toward her. In fact, he’d prefer to never feel anything but friendly. But he couldn’t deny it felt good to know that Grace wasn’t involved with anyone. Her claim to never having been very involved was unusual for a woman her age and beauty. And he liked it.

“How are you fixed for real dates?” he asked.

“I have a very demanding schedule. When you own your own business every day off is a day without pay. I don’t have much help at the shop. I’ve had a couple of part-timers over the past couple of years, but right now I have no one—the last one had to quit. She wasn’t that much help anyway, but at least she kept the shop open while I delivered flowers. I have to try to figure that out. Like I said, I need a more balanced life.”

“Have you thought about a high school or college student? Or maybe two who could job share, putting together two part-time schedules that equal one full-time employee? There are so many at the high school who don’t want to go to college or who do but have trouble affording tuition.”

“Good idea, but when I advertise for help, hardly anyone answers.”

“You need help advertising in the right place. There’s a work-study program at school. If you can train your student-employee in a trade, they’ll get a credit toward graduation and get a morning or afternoon off to work. Didn’t Iris ever suggest this?”

Grace looked a little excited. “No! Should I ask her to help me with this?”

“Yes,” he said. “Not tonight. Tonight we drink beer and eat something. What’ve you got? I could run out for something...”

“How hungry are you? Because I make some amazing nachos. And since I have some black olives, taco meat left over from taco salad and sour cream...”

“Oh, yeah,” he said.

“Didn’t you have any dinner?”

“I had a couple of Cooper’s mini pizzas...”

“And you say it’s the little brother who eats on the hour?” She went to her tiny kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to run down the street for something? I hate to ask you to feed me,” he said.

“Don’t go,” she said. “It’s not much trouble and it sounds good.”

She bent over to dig around in her little refrigerator and Troy felt a fever coming on. Those yoga pants had a real nice fit. He had to look away, take a breath. Sometimes, he reminded himself, you don’t notice what’s right in front of you. He’d spent all that time thinking Iris was right for him. Even though she made it clear it was a no-go, he never bothered to get to know any other women and here was Grace, right under his nose. Making him hot.

She was complicated, he knew that. She said her life was boring, not much to tell, solitary...and he knew that was just a cover. And he didn’t mind at all.

“Then let me help,” he said, joining her.

They put together a fabulous plate of nachos, ran out of salsa very quickly since that little fridge couldn’t hold much and cupboard space was at a premium. They spent the next hour talking about the town, the rivers Troy liked to run in the summer, the kids he taught. Every time he asked Grace a question about herself she gave him a brief answer and steered the conversation back to him.

“You know there are dorm rooms bigger than this loft,” he said to her. “You live like a college student.”

“I know. I’m keeping my life simple and my expenses down until the shop does better, and it’s doing better all the time. There aren’t that many weddings in Thunder Point, but I get a lot of weddings out of town. They’re killers but they pay like mad. Where do you live?”

“In a small old apartment on the edge of town that’s decorated with castoffs from my folks. You’re saving for the flower shop and I’m saving for travel.” He noticed her eyes widened and wondered where it came from. Envy? Longing? Surprise? Something else? He told her about the dive trips in summer, ski trips in winter, hunting trips with old Marine Corps buddies here and there.

“Marines?” she asked.

“I did a year of community college, enlisted, went to Iraq and got out. That’s how I finished college—GI Bill. I was a lowly jarhead but I made some excellent friends. There’s good hunting in the mountains not far from here. I’ll take you sometime if you like.”

“Oh, I’ve never touched a gun,” she said. “I couldn’t hunt.”

“Then I’ll take you for the scenery.”

Just then, as they were talking about guns, something that sounded like gunshots punctuated the night. Almost as if choreographed, they both turned to open the shutters behind the couch. In the sky above the bay, fireworks blasted the dark sky, exploding into bright fireballs and falling in sparkling streamers.

“Fireworks,” she said in a breath.

“The wind has been too high in the couple of years I’ve been here,” Troy said. “I think Cliff hires someone to do it. Not bad, for a dumpy little town.”

“This place surprises me all the time.”

Troy turned to her and caught her chin in his finger and thumb. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Me, too.”

“Listen, Troy,” she said, and there was no mistaking nervousness in her voice. “I... There are things...”

He stopped her by kissing her gently. He slid his hand around her head to the nape of her neck under her ponytail. His kiss was soft, brief and gentle. Instinct told him he was dealing with a major unknown emotional situation and should go slowly, carefully. He moved over her lips very tenderly.

“What things?” he asked.

She took a breath. “I didn’t exactly tell the whole story about my family, about growing up...”

“I know,” he said.

“How? Do you know things about me? Is there something...”

“Shh,” he said. “I’m a high school teacher. I can smell excuses and evasion a mile away. It’s an acquired skill. So there’s more to you? That’s okay, Gracie. Don’t panic. You’ll tell me when you feel safe.”

“Okay?” she said, more of a question than a reply.

He chuckled. “Okay. We’re just friends. And we’re getting to know each other. Take it easy.”

Then he leaned in again, taking another taste of her lips as the popping, exploding sound of fireworks provided the background music. Again he was gentle and sweet because the last thing he wanted was to scare her off.

“I’m not experienced,” she whispered when their lips parted.

“Well, except for the navy SEAL, knight and vampire?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.

She smiled against his lips. “Yes, except for them there aren’t many experiences. I made out with a guy named Johnny when I was fifteen. For about ten hours I think. He was fantastic and turned out to be gay. Such has been my luck.”

He gave her a little kiss. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It’s all good.”

“Should we be down on the dock, watching the fireworks?” she asked.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “We should be right here.” Then his arms tightened around her and he covered her mouth again with kisses that had become hot, demanding and promising.

* * *

Troy left at around one in the morning but Grace stayed on the couch. She grabbed a pillow and blanket and decided to spend the night right there, where it all happened, where the kissing and snuggling and whispering took place. She was still licking her lips, touching them with her fingertips, contemplating his skill, his taste. The last time she’d been kissed was in Portland by a nephew of Ross and Mamie’s. That was over two years ago. His name was Gary, last name long forgotten. He’d attached himself to her mouth like a plunger and attempted a tonsillectomy with his tongue. He’d gotten away with that three times before she finally told him to stop.

There were some things for which she had very little training and one of them was romantic relationships. She hadn’t been in a position to have boyfriends. And if she did have a crush, which happened rarely, her flirting felt conspicuous and clumsy. She’d had a crush on Troy, as it happened, but because she was Iris’s friend and Troy had been trailing Iris for a year, she never let on. Growing up, she trained mostly alone, the only exception being her father’s younger students—almost exclusively girls. There were men on the skating competition circuit and other athletes competing in some of the national and world competitions. Some of the figure skaters she competed against were so much more womanly—tall, with breasts, worldly, sexy, flirtatious. And they hated her. They had plenty of reasons—she was raised with money while many of them had parents who worked several jobs to pay for their training, not that that had anything much to do with one’s ability to perform a perfect double axel. She often competed against older skaters because her talent meant she was a force to be reckoned with. But the other girls tended to act as if she could buy the medals.

Her biggest rival was a girl her age named Fiona Temple. Fiona beat her once and only once, but that was all it took for Fiona to believe the only thing that stood in the way of her stardom was Izzy Banks. Fiona hated her and spread rumors about her whenever she could. Fiona’s parents leaked stories to the media. Grace would never forget the time, age twelve, when Fiona told other skaters Grace was a rich bitch and how everything was easier for her. Grace had cried and told Winnie all about it. “Never let them see you cry!” Winnie had said. “Never! Lift your chin and beat her instead! Beat the tights off her!”

That’s what she wanted to do, but it was so hard not to feel hurt. So she lifted her nose in the air, ignored them, and they started calling her a stuck-up snot who had everything handed to her.

And then she did something that caused a world of trouble. Winnie had warned her to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t stay silent. She accused a famous skating coach of sexual misconduct with one of his students, a minor. She quickly learned speaking out gets you treated like a leper, even if it’s true. True or not, a smarter person would have proof to offer before opening her stupid mouth. When she asked her coach’s advice Mikhail had been blunt. “He is piece of shit but it will get you nothing to say so.”

That world-famous coach was not prosecuted and ultimately sued Izzy and Winnie. They settled, giving him money. A year after Grace retired from competitive skating the coach was arrested and eventually convicted of sexual misconduct with minors.

She’d been right. Vindicated. For what good it did her.

She hadn’t been completely without friends growing up, but her few relationships had been superficial and strained. When the girls doubled up in hotel rooms to save money, Winnie rented spacious quarters for the two of them and Mikhail, removing Grace yet again from her contemporaries. The only skaters she didn’t actually fear were on the men’s team. And most of them truly wanted to be nothing more than friends.

She couldn’t look to her parents as models for a healthy, strong love match. Her mother had married her father because she needed a keeper. Her father had married her mother as he had married a young skater before her, one who bore him a child twenty years before Grace came along. As much as she had always adored her father, she understood—he had a type. Young, vulnerable, needy, willing to do whatever he demanded because they were convinced he’d help them win.

She could, however, look to her parents to see what she didn’t want in a relationship.

Her other advisors on romance were in the bookcase—the romances and some classic chick flicks. She and Iris had debated them often enough. Some were pure fantasy, some unreasonably coincidental, but some of her favorite contemporary romances revolved around very strong women and men with integrity. And then of course she studied their fictional presumptions, mistakes, missteps, blunders, and from them she learned. Or at least hoped she had.

She had been unprepared for Troy. She had wished for someone like Troy for a long time but assumed that kind of man would never happen into her life.

Troy had kissed with such amazing skill and tenderness. And there was passion—hot, deep, panting, groaning passion. Grace wanted to fall in love with him, something she attributed to her lack of experience. But she thought about what he’d said to her. “You aren’t with anyone, I’m not with anyone and it seems like we might as well enjoy the moment. Right?”

So. He was just lonely and had finally accepted that Iris had moved on. She didn’t care. She loved his mouth, his arms, his hands. She would try very hard not to fall in love with him.

Grace snuggled down into her blanket on the couch and thought it didn’t matter at all. She never imagined she’d have this with anyone and certainly not the very guy she lusted after. They had kissed for an hour. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her, didn’t treat her like someone he was using to pass the time and it was delicious! She decided to close her eyes and dream about him, dream about them taking it to the next level. She was twenty-eight; she so wanted to know what that was like.

Instead she dreamed of Mikhail, the little Russian in his sixties with a cane he pounded for emphasis, shouting in half Russian and half English. It was so unfair, she thought, slowly rousing to the sound of knocking that was not Mikhail’s cane.

She was suddenly afraid and her heart started racing. Who could be pounding after one in the morning? Then she saw that it was starting to grow light and at just that moment she heard Troy’s voice. “Gracie? Gracie? It’s me,” he called softly.

She opened the door for him. He was holding a bag. “What in the world are you doing here at the crack of dawn?”

He looked at his watch. “It’s nine, Grace.”

“Nine? It looks like the sun isn’t even awake!”

“It’s a gloomy day. I brought breakfast and then I’m going to take you storm watching.”

“Why?” she said, frowning.

“Because the swells are huge and I think you need me to show you how to have fun.”

“I beg your pardon, I know how to have fun.”

“Working all the time, then working out for diversion. Nah, you definitely need a coach. We’ll start small—just a little sightseeing. There are big swells, the waves will be awesome.”

“But it’s cold.”

He put his bag on the little table. “And it’s kind of wet. You should dress warm, but first, breakfast.” He pulled some fast-food breakfast burritos and potato pancakes out of the bag. Lots of them. On the bottom were two large coffees.

“Hungry, Troy?”

“Starving.” He sat down and peeled the wrapper off one of the breakfast burritos. “Come on, Grace. Let’s do it. This is going to get you all excited. Promise.”

“I was going to catch up on some paperwork since the shop is closed today. Accounting and stuff.”

He shook his head. “See what I mean? This is exactly why I came over. I don’t know you that well but I already know you’re working too much. I have two jobs and still manage to take some days off.” He took a big bite. “It’s New Year’s Day. It’s a holiday.”

She sat opposite him and reached for one of the burritos. He was right. Not only was he right, she’d told him last night she needed to find more balance. “Do you have an aversion to making plans?”

“No,” he said. “I’m usually much more polite—call ahead, make plans, all that stuff that girls like. I’ll work on that. For now, I think we should have some fun. Especially today.”

“There are lots of football games on TV.”

“I’m recording them,” he said. “I might not watch them all and I’m not going to sit around inside all day when there are things to do. You’ll be glad you let me drag you out,” he said.

“We’ll see,” she said, but she already was.