Page 11 of Oh Boy!
Yes, the chills that crawl across my skin remind me that some might think I sound as creepy as the serial killer from one of my favorite stories,Perfume… but you’d have to torture me to admit that this character had a big impact on how I practice calligraphy. Scent is a vital part of my work. However, this book would fit better on my odd friend Virgil’s bookshelves.
Mirroring my pose on the other side of aforementioned desk, she blows on her coffee. Bewitched, I watch her lips form an O, instantly sending dirty thoughts through my depraved mind.
“It’s funny,” she eventually says between small sips.
“What’s funny?” My gaze searches for hers this time.
“I never pictured you as a TV aficionado.” I scrunch my nose; I probably deserve that. I don’t miss her sarcasm and want nothing more than to shut her smart mouth with a searing kiss. Not happening in this lifetime, though.
My second mistake is actually drinking the disgusting bitter beverage; I wince and reluctantly force it down my throat. Yuck! What was I thinking? I should have asked for tea. Her boyfriend is a Brit, and she told me that she’s originally from Toronto. They don’t know the first thing about good java. Okay, I might be slightly judgmental here. Either way, that’s my cue to stop my one-track mind from fantasizing about her.
She’s off-limits, moron!
Burying my fingers in my hair, I mutely repeat my new mantra: friends is the next best thing. We’re all friends. Rupert is a friend. She’s a friend… although her name remains a mystery since Rupert strictly referred to her as “my girl.”
Taking a swig of her coffee, she glances at me, hurtling me back to planet Earth. “Jokes aside, I’d never thought you’d drive over an hour to see my outdoor workplace.” My favorite archaeologist sets her empty mug on the desk. “Well, my workplace for the next few weeks, that is.” She pauses as I look anywhere but at her shapely legs that her shorts broadcast in the best of ways. “Want more?”
So much more…
Clearing my throat, I politely decline by leaning my cup to show her that I haven’t finished yet. As for what I really want... Forget it!
“And, of course, you have to show up in a Mustang at that!” she exclaims a little too gleefully after what seems like forever.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just…” She shakes her head, her braid swaying with the movement, and the scent of orange blossoms teases my nostrils. “Your brother has a really nice car.”
At her preposterous assumption, I almost spit out my mouth full of coffee. “My boring brother drives a sedan, obviously. So boring that you missed it when you guys came by for the barbeque last Wednesday before The Whiskey Barrels split to Nashville to record their next masterpiece!”
This woman intrigues me immensely. I don’t know Rupert very well, but whenever I register the pull that I feel around his woman, I feel like shit. It’s not fair to give my soul false hope, and it’s worse to betray a new friendship by lusting over someone I can’t have. On top of that, I became a creeper, dissecting her every reaction. Like why she made out with Rupert in front of everyone when she’s such a guarded person. Like why she’d think I’d spike her drink. Like why she froze and stepped back when my niece, Meghan, was chasing after her newly acquired furball, Salem, calling, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” Was Sally ashamed of her fear of cats?
Damn, Price, don’t get lost inside your head!
“Well, technically, David has a Jeep as well, but that’s Lori’s. See! Bo-ring.” We chuckle at my brother’s expense because I’m nice like that. “I, on the contrary, am the proud owner of a vintage Mustang that’s currently sitting in my garage in Tribeca. Choosing this rental was a no-brainer.” Incapable of stopping myself, I wink, proud of myself for disclosing my place of residence.
At once, she regains her composure and deadpans, “I drive a sedan, too.”
My neck tenses and my brows pinch, irritated with myfaux pas. “Ohhh…” My stern tone is a dead giveaway.
She bumps my bicep playfully. “Chill, Nathan.” Then, she shoots me a knowing smile. “Can’t you see I’m shitting you? I just…” She hesitates. “I just found it ironic that, of all of the cars in the world, you drive a Mustang.” Worrying the corner of my lower lip, I stare until she decides to say more. “My first name’s Sally.”
Ironic, indeed. The song instantly plays inside my head; I love this song. Surely, that’s a sign. It has to be.Mustang Sally…
“This is Kismet,” I mumble. Without thinking, I scoot towards her. My knuckles brush against hers, accelerating my heart rate. Her entire body trembles, but she keeps quiet. The world around me spins because I can’t breathe. I grip the desk to regain my composure.
“I can’t leave things like this,” I eventually blurt. “Have dinner with me, Sally. There’s so much we need to talk about.”
She shakes her head but laces her fingers with mine. Leaning my way, she whispers, “You know as well as I do that dinner is a bad idea. Go back to your brother, Nathan. Kismet has nothing to do with this. It’s a fun coincidence. There’s nothing more to talk about.”
My soul tells me that she’s wrong. Betraying Rupert would be a low blow, but I need her to hear me out and decide for herself; Mustang Sally is a sign. Must be why I do something completely out of character.
Beg her.
