Page 22 of Organized Chaos

Phillip scrubbed at his face as a yelp reached his ears.

Sarah.

He wheeled and dashed from the room. He’d never not finished a podcast according to his schedule. He told himself it would be okay. He’d record later, once he made sure Sarah was okay and she had everything she needed.

She looked up at his approach and her wide smile made his heart beat quicker. “Well,” she said. “You held true to your word. You didn’t sneak up on me.”

“I thought I’d rather not peel you out from under that dresser.” He motioned at the ornate piece tipping precariously against her truck’s tailgate. Somehow, she’d gotten it down the steps while he jogged over. “Need some help?”

She gave him a pointed look. “You sure you want to offer? Looks like you’re ready for a party.”

“I was just recording.” He motioned toward his house, the top story barely visible over the treetops. “I can take a break.”

“Recording what?”

He lowered the tailgate and motioned for her to climb in. “I record a weekly podcast for the ranching community.”

“Really?” She snarled her nose adorably and looked him up and down again. “Video or just audio?”

“Audio. But I’m considering getting into video.” Sort of. He knew he’d have more platform options if he was willing to turn on a camera, but every time he tried, his pulse thudded, his palms sweated, his throat locked, and he froze up. Introversion at its finest. He wasn’t sure why audio recording never bothered him. “You ever do any videos about your refurbishing business?”

She hauled herself into the truck and straightened. “Thought about it. My style is a bit too chaotic for recording. Plus I’d get paint on everything.”

He tipped the dresser into her truck and pushed while she pulled. They grunted and strained but finally situated the heavy piece where it wouldn’t slide out. Phillip tied it down with a pair of rachet straps then stepped back. “Taking anything else?” He should let this go and get back to work. Sarah had infiltrated his life enough.

“Not today. I’ll be back for more pieces later.” She hopped down and slammed the tailgate shut. “You could come out to my shop. Maybe you could record a video for me. Show me what to do.”

He meant to say no, but when he opened his mouth, “Sure,” came out instead. He didn’t know what came over him. Sarah’s infectious spirit made him want to be spontaneous. He’d never been spontaneous a day in his life. He liked order and Sarah thrived on chaos. No matter how he looked at it, he knew this would never end well.

“Hop in.” She grinned while opening the driver’s side door. “I’ll drive you out and bring you back.”

“I’ll follow you.”

“Phillip, half the fun of refurbishing items is the journey from place to place. Ideas bloom in the long stretches of highway. How can you get a vision for what this piece needs to become if you’re so busy trying to talk yourself into going home that you can’t let go and be free?”

That. That right there was why this was a terrible, terrible idea. Yet he couldn’t deny the sudden yearning to be as free as Sarah. To take off just because he could and travel wherever the road might lead.

He had obligations. People counted on him to get the podcast up every week.

“I’ll have you back before dark.” She shielded her eyes from the sun. “That gives you enough time to record your podcast, right?”

Not really but he’d deal with it. He resigned himself to another day with Sarah and climbed into the truck. The minute the doors closed and she headed out, he feared he’d made a big mistake.

Sarah made him want to change things. Things he’d kept the same for years because they worked for him.

Within minutes, she had him rolling up his sleeves and had a crisp wind blowing through his hair when she rolled the windows down. She sang along with the radio, even when she didn’t know the words.

By the time she stopped outside a bright little house on the edge of a suburb, his cheeks ached from laughing so hard when she made up her own lyrics and belted them out at full volume.

“This is me.” She pressed a button on her dash and the garage door in front of them lifted, revealing the most chaotic and colorful space that Phillip had ever seen. His fingers twitched at the sight. Paint cans littered the floor, along with brushes of various sizes. A long shelving unit took up the entire back wall but there was no rhyme or reason to the organization. Who was he kidding? There was no organization. Nothing looked to be where it belonged.

“How do you find anything?”

Sarah did that nose scrunching thing again that he was coming to think meant he’d annoyed her in some way. “I know where I put stuff. Even if it doesn’t make sense.”

“How?” Nothing about this made sense to him.

She huffed and climbed out. “You’ll see. Now help me get this dresser inside. It looks like it’s going to rain soon, and I don’t want it to get wet.”

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