Taysom
Herpinkshirtandlight blue denim pants have green ink all over them.
“Uh, Charlotte.” I point to her clothes. “I hate to tell you this but—”
She looks down and screams. “No! How did that happen?” She searches her arms and pulls on the hem of her shirt. Bending atthe waist, she stares at her green smudged pants. “These pants were new!”
“I am so sorry.” I walk to her and grab her elbow, rotating her arm around. “But you’d fit right in with your clients. I saw a couple of them with green on their arms and faces as they were exiting the building.”
“We try so hard not to make a mess.” She intakes a breath sharply. “Oh no. I bet the ink pad was open in my lap. I know it was at the bottom of the stack of things I was holding. I thought it was closed!” She slaps her forehead. “Where are your keys? I need to make sure it’s not imprinted on your leather seats.”
“No, I’ll go get it, Charlotte. Why don’t you wash up? There’s a bathroom just right around—”
She blanches before taking in a calming breath. “This can’t be washed up, Taysom. I mean, the ink is washable, but I should soak them in a bucket of soapy water for a day first.”
“Right.” I have plenty of ideas of things we could do with her hanging out at my place waiting for her clothes to come clean. I groan internally.
Do not go there, Taysom.
“Here, let me grab you some clothes of mine that you can borrow.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” Her voice is strained, but I’m already heading to the primary suite on the main floor.
“Do it for me? I don’t want that ink all over my furniture!”
“Well, fine,” she retorts. I turn to glance back to see her arms covering her middle, as if she’s trying…and failing…to cover up the splotches of green all over her.
I bite back a chuckle and head to my room. Throwing open my drawers with reckless abandon, I pull out various items she could change into. All of them are huge.
Finally, I grab a couple of options for shorts and t-shirts and make my way back to the great room, where she’s trying towash her arms. “I bet this ink soaked through my clothes and is staining my skin. I should issue a formal apology to all of the parents of my clients. So sorry for any inconveniences that this wet ink may or may not have caused!”
I’m tripped up on the thought of green ink on her skin, so it takes me a minute to respond. “Here, why don’t you take a shower in my bathroom? There are towels and soap in that main closet there as you walk in. And then you can choose from this stuff?” I hold out the pile of things.
She hesitates. “I don’t need to do that. It’s probably all dry now.”
I step up to her and use my thumb on her chin to wipe away a green smudge. I can’t curb my smile.
“Ugh, I’ve got it on my face now?” She asks, blinking rapidly. A red spiral of hair pokes out of her bun and it dances as she shakes her head in frustration.
“I kind of like the green,” I say quietly.
She balks. “Why? Because I’m red—” She gestures to her hair and to the flush of her cheeks. “And green now? Like Christmas?” She smiles and I can see it all, her frustration with the ink and with the Center closing, and yet, there’s a playfulness between us I crave. Every minute I feel it with her, I want more and more and more.
“No.” My gaze skates over her. “I like the green because it shows how dedicated you are to those kids and to your job. I wish all your prospective employers could see this. It just shows how passionate you are about your work.” I take her in again. “And I love it.”
She flicks her tongue out to moisten her lips. “If you say so,” she says faintly. It’s like she’s lost in thought for a moment, but then, more loudly, “I guess I’ll take you up on the offer for a shower.”
“Good.” I take a step back.
“You don’t happen to have a shower cap, do you?”
“Uh, probably not?”
“It’s no big deal. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to wash my hair.”
“Use whatever you need and I’ll be here with some ice cream waiting for you for
when you’re done.”
