“I was. But let’s change the subject. Anything new at your work?” I asked.
She shrugged. “My boss is one inappropriate comment away from me reporting him to H.R., and Noah, the carpool guy who asked me out is… just my coworker now. Today, we didn’t talk the whole ride to work, and once we were at work, we talked about nothing but collating.”
“Collating? Like, making copies?”
“Yep. We had a ten minute conversation on the best page order for the booklets and possible staple placements for the binding. Titillating stuff right there.”
I smirked. “Well, if he turned a thirty-second conversation into ten minutes just to stand next to you, that’s sorta hot. Did he lean over and whisper in your ear?”
“Ew, no. That’s the type of thing my boss does, and then he gets all offended and flabbergasted when you call him out on it. Noah kept a respectable distance, hands behind his back and everything.”
“He kept his hands behind his back because he was afraid his feelings would show if you two accidentally touched and he dropped all the papers on the floor.”
Jenny narrowed her eyes at me, trying not to laugh. “Your interpretation of my day is so much more romantic than my reality. Go on. Tell me more.”
I was embarrassed now, but Jenny’s know-it-all-smirk had me accepting her challenge. “Well, naturally, you’d have to stoop down and help him pick up all those papers, and then your eyes would meet and then your mouths, and then… then…” I rubbed my palms together. “Someone would walk in and you’d both have to scramble to your feet and pretend you were checking each other’s lips for leftover frosting from the birthday cake at lunch.”
“What birthday cake?”
“You work with like five hundred people. It’s always somebody’s birthday, right?”
Jenny grinned. “Pretty much. So, in your fantasy, do we get caught making out or do they buy the whole, ‘I-was-cleaning-the-frosting-off-his-lips-for-him’ excuse?”
“They’re suspicious, but they let it go. After that, the two of you just give each other looks of mournful yearning from across the hall. It’s very tragic.”
Jenny sighed. “Lauren, the secret romantic.”
“Emphasis on secret.” I had a tough-girl image to protect, after all.
My phone rang in the other room where I’d left it on the arm of the couch. I ran and grabbed it, assuming it was my mom or sister-in-law. Denver wasn’t one to call and check in. In fact, the only thing that would make him call anyone instead of text was if he’d suddenly been turned into Edward Scissor Hands, and even then, he’d probably use voice-to-text.
It was a surprise to see Parker’s name. He did call occasionally, but never after a spat at work. We usually just pretended like it never happened; the Harwood version of a truce.
“Hi, Parker.”
Jenny lost interest upon hearing it was my brother and got up to refill her glass with ice water. Business calls bored her to tears.
“Hey Lauren, I have great news for you.” The sarcasm in Parker’s voice didn’t fill me with confidence about what was coming next. “There’s an Aichi bucket truck for sale in Boise, Idaho, and Dad is insisting I fly with you to check it out and haul it back. I guess you’re the expert on Japanese bucket trucks now.”
“Idaho. Yay.” I did not want to drive home in a bucket truck from Idaho, especially with Parker taking me along as punishment. This was Dad’s version of sticking us in the timeout T-shirt together until we stopped fighting. But if he’d found the bucket truck holy grail, we didn’t have a choice. Most of the ones we wanted shipped straight from Japan at a price we couldn’t afford. Finding a decent used one in the U.S. was worth a lot of driving. “How tall is the lift?”
“Sixty feet.”
“What year?”
“2005. Look, I can email you all the specs. But what I really want you to do is talk Dad out of making you go. I’m the one who works on these. I know what they’re worth, and I know what to look for. You’ll just slow me down with bathroom stops. No offense.”
“None taken. You should take someone with you, though. Just in case you break down.”
“You worry too much. Maybe Clay can come along and babysit me. Would that make you feel better?”
“Yes. But only if you cut the attitude, Parker. It’s a little much, even for you.”
“Sorry. I just hate having Dad as my boss. It’s not even that I want to be the boss instead. It’s just…”
“Trust me, I get it. And I’ll talk to him tomorrow about not making me go along with you. If I call him now he’ll know you asked me to.”
“True that. Thanks, Lauren.”
