Page 12 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
She didn’t walk to the door; she floated like she was in a dream. The paper was already thrown onto her sidewalk. Right now was perfect timing to get it and get a glimpse of him.
She stepped out.
Immediately he looked up. “Did I wake you?” he asked. The neighborhood was still so quiet that she could hear him even from over here.
“No, I was awake.” This time she let a small smile come forth. “Didn’t you just cut those yesterday?”
“Keeping up with my yard schedule, are you now?”
No! No! “Oh...no, I just thought...”
He laughed and held his hand up. “Take it easy, tiger. It’s too early to freak out. I was just kidding.”
The mood had passed. She always messed up around him. People like him, people who were always so cool and collected, frustrated her. Why can’t I be like that?
She picked up the newspaper. “Have a good day,” she told him, not willing to make a fool of herself any more than she already had.
“What do you do?”
“What do you do?”
He flexed his bicep. “I’m a personal trainer. Over at Peter’s Gym.”
“I’ve always thought that that’s the worst name for a
gym in the world,” she rolled her eyes. “Is that the best name they could come up with?”
“Apparently, it’s after Peter, Paul, and Mary.” He snorted.
“The only thing that could be worse than Peter’s Gym is Peter, Paul, and Mary’s Gym.” Just saying it cracked her up, and her humor caught up with Cayden.
He composed himself and asked, “So what do you do?”
Don’t get too personal, she heard the voice of caution. “I’m a personal organizer.”
“What does that mean?”
“I work with rich people. Help them organize their homes. De-clutter. That kind of thing.”
“That’s definitely not a common job.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not.”
“How did you get started?”
“Maybe another time.” She winked, surprising herself. She had never winked at anyone before, at least not that she could remember. “I need to get ready. Heard my coffeemaker beep.”
“Why are you so mysterious?”
Nice try. “See you,” she said in almost a purr, and returned to the house.
She envisioned he was watching her every step, memorizing the way the plaid shirt flowed around her body. She shivered at the thought. If only...
THE WEATHER WAS BREWING low to the ground. A front was moving through; the days had gotten suddenly warm and the air had that stagnant feeling that meant a storm was on its way.
As Lillian stepped into her backyard to retrieve some flowers she’d been clipping, the longer strands of grass whipped at her ankles.
“You sure do grow fast.” She bent down, careful not to move too quickly. A sweet, earthy smell rose from the dirt. She plucked a handful of grass, rubbed it between her fingers, and lifted it to her nose. Something about it made her feel grounded. Solid.
