Page 9 of Edge of Ruin
Jack gestured toward an old trestle table in the kitchen area. “Have a seat. How do you like your coffee?”
“Milk, if you have it, and sugar, please.”
He poured coffee into a huge earthenware mug, reached into his refrigerator, and held up a carton of half-and-half. “This do?”
“How luxurious,” I said. “Nobody I know uses half-and-half anymore. It’s always one percent, or skim. Or those vegetable milks.”
He grunted. “I eat whatever I like.”
A sudden memory of Brian, who had a precision scale in his kitchen and counted every gram of fat he ate, rose up in my mind. I fought back an impulse to giggle and concentrated on stirring a spoonful of glistening, sticky brown sugar into my coffee. I tried not to stare at the way his biceps distended the short sleeves of his shirt.
Tried and failed.
He sat down across from me. I took a cautious sip. The coffee was strong, and delicious. It would have been too strong, but for the shot of cream.
“Great coffee,” I offered.
He nodded. I tried to relax by studying the luxuriant house plants, and then noticed that he was staring fixedly at the neckline of my dress. I glanced down, terrified that it was gaping scandalously over a nipple, but no. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“Sorry,” he said, looking down. “I, um, was just looking at your eranthis hyemalis.”
I blinked at him, perplexed. “My...ah, my what?”
He looked embarrassed. “The flower. On your chest. I thought at first that it was Ranunculus acris, but then?—”
“A what?”
He let out an impatient sigh. “A buttercup. But then I saw the leaves. Definitely Eranthis hyemalis. Winter Aconite, I mean.”
I looked down at my tattoo. “Oh. Yeah. I like this flower. I noticed it in a friend’s garden, blooming in the snow, and that impressed me. I saw it as the perfect combination of toughness and a good attitude.”
“Yeah, they’re great flowers.” He tore his gaze from my body and stared down into his coffee cup as if there were something really interesting at the bottom of it.
I shoved my damp hair behind my ears. “I came down to ask you a favor,” I said, taking another sip of the hot, bracing coffee. “I forgot some key things when I left the van. Most I can do without, but the most important is a can opener, so I can feed Edna.”
He reached around, pulled open a drawer, and handed me one. “Keep it at your place,” he said. “I have another one.”
“And some sort of bowl? I forgot her dish, too,” I admitted.
He rummaged in a cupboard for a plastic dish. “Anything else?”
“If I could borrow your broom to sweep out the mud I tracked in?”
He gestured behind himself, to a corner where a broom and dustpan were tucked. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you. Edna thanks you, too. As only a Labrador retriever can.” I took a final sip of coffee and scooped up the bowl and can opener. “I’ll just head on back up to my apartment, then.” I grabbed the broom and dustpan, and made for the door.
I’d managed not to giggle or simper. Now, if I could just get out the door without tripping over the rug, I was home free.
“Do you have anything to eat tonight?” he demanded.
“No, but Edna and I might just hike back to the van and grab some stuff. It’s no big deal.”
“I’ll take you into town to do some shopping.”
“No, really,” I said hastily. “You’ve gone to enough trouble.”
“No trouble. I need groceries anyway. There’s just the convenience store here in Silverfish, so I’ll take you to the Safeway in Pebble River.”
