The Trouble With Falling
EIGHT
Elijah
It’sdark the next night by the time I lock up the Trading Post and head into town to Hartley’s bakery. Tonight is the first night that I’m helping her with the bakery and we’re painting. I brought a change of clothes to work this morning and put the old ones on before I left the shop.
I’m already second-guessing this whole plan.
Will anyone even believe that we’re together? I mean, my parents know me and they know how I’ve always felt about relationships and girlfriends. Will they really believe that suddenly I had a change of heart?
My mom might be able to miss it since she’ll just be so excited that I’m with someone, but how long will that last? How long before they spot that Hartley and I don’t know the first thing about each other?
I park in front of the bakery, looking over to see that all the lights are on and Hartley is balancing on the top of a ladder.
“Crazy girl,” I mutter as I bolt out of my truck and into the bakery. “You shouldn’t be up there,” I scold her.
Hartley jerks, the ladder teetering under her as she braces herself against the wall to balance herself.
I cross the space, grabbing on to the ladder and scowling up at her. She looks down, returning the dark look.
“Hello, Elijah,” she says sarcastically.
“You shouldn’t be standing up there. Not without someone to make sure you’re steady,” I repeat.
“I was doing just fine before you came in and tried to give me a heart attack.”
I hold the ladder as she steps down and brushes her hands off on her pants. She’s wearing a pair of tight black yoga pants that look like a second skin with the way that they mold to her thick thighs.
Her dark brown hair is tied up in a messy knot on top of her head and she’s wearing an old T-shirt that looks to be at least two sizes too big.
“You look nice,” I blurt out and Hartley looks at me like I’m insane.
Where the heck did that come from? I mean, she does look pretty, but why would I say that?
“Thanks… oh! Is this practice for next week? I guess it would be a good idea to start getting to know each other and acting like a couple before we have to do it for an audience next week.”
“Yeah. That’s what I was doing.”
Hartley nods, her eyes scanning over my body. I’ve got a pair of gray sweatpants on and an old college t-shirt.
“You look nice too. Sorry—handsome. I like your sweatpants,” she says with a flirty smile and a wink, and I wonder if I’ve entered a different dimension.
“Uh, thanks.”
Hartley laughs, like she’s in on a joke that I’m just not getting.
“So, I already taped off the whole place and I’ve got all of the supplies ready for us.”
I trail after her as we head into the kitchen and I see everything set out on the counter. She has tarps and other coverings on the floor, so I head over and grab a roller and pan off the counter.
“Where are we starting?” I ask.
“Out in the main area. I think we’ll have to do two coats out there, so we should start there.”
“Sounds good. Lead the way, dear,” I say, adding a too-big smile to the pet name.
“Don’t call me dear,” she says as she grabs her own paint roller and leads the way out into the main area.
“How about baby?” I try.