Page 63 of Holding You
“The kids want popcorn.”
I stand quickly and head into the kitchen. Declan is right behind me, watching my every move. I’m sure that by now he knows where the popcorn is in this house. Max is addicted to it; he has it at least twice a week when he’s watching a movie before bed.
It’s a habit I’ll break on another day.
I grab one of the bags from the cabinet and jam it into Declan’s chest.
“Here.”
He lets out the lightest grunt.
I head back to the living room.
“Why don’t you just let me make this popcorn, take it to the kids, and then I can come back up here and help you?”
“Because I told you that I don’t want your help.”
And we do not need to be alone.
“Ruby, it’s obvious your computer isn’t working. I can fix it.”
I ignore him and attempt to turn my laptop on once more.
Nothing happens.
The popcorn starts to pop in the microwave as I weigh my options.
One, ask around to Lovers to find out who the tech guy everyone calls for help. Get on his schedule, cross my fingersthat he knows how to fix whatever this is within days, and then pay him. Two, wait until this weekend and drive to one of the two computer stores in Wind Valley. It’ll cost more, and I should definitely call ahead to be sure they can get me in. Three, ask the man in my kitchen to help me, and possibly have this fixed tonight so that I can get some work done.
And maybe sit far enough away from him while he works.
I can totally do that.
The microwave beeps and I hear Declan pour the snack into two bowls.
I hug my computer to my chest and stare at him.
He’s at the top of the stairs when he sees me.
“Can you please help me?”
He smirks as he starts the descent to the basement. “I’ll be right back.”
I grab a water and then jog up the stairs for my computer bag. I don’t see him needing the charger for anything, but I’ll have it ready. When I get back to the living room, Declan is just hitting the top step. He’s got two new things with him: a bag with his company logo on it, and he’s also wearing my new weakness, his black rimmed glasses.
Damnit. I’m a mess.
“What were you doing when it turned off?”
“Working.”
He grabs my computer from the coffee table and moves to the kitchen table. I join him. Two chairs down.
“I need you to be more specific.”
“I was opening a file and I’m not a professional or anything, but normally, that mundane action shouldn't cause a computer to shut down.”
“I agree.”
