Page 77 of Error Handling
“This is the weirdest thing a guy has ever done to me.”
Chris meets eyes with me in the mirror and raises an eyebrow. Then he continues working.
“Is it working?” I feel a line of mineral spirits drip down my back. Chris catches it with the sponge.
“Yep.” He doesn’t seem distracted by my bare skin, or maybe he’s just extra practiced at being a gentleman. Either option is acceptable. If he tried to make the moves on me now, I might question his integrity. Would I go along with it though?
Maybe.
“Hey,” I say. “There’s something I should probably tell you.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Chris says, as if sensing where this might be going.
Oh, but he has no idea...
“I’ve only kissed two guys,” I sputter. “That’s it. Just two.”
I watch Chris in the mirror when I say it. He blinks and then pretends to go on like there is nothing strange about a twenty-eight-year-old who hasn’t kissed a guy since senior prom.
“And only twice,” I add. “So, if I acted a bit nervous back there, that’s why.”
Chris douses the sponge with more mineral spirits and works on my lower back. “You didn’t seem nervous.”
“You mean, you’ve known other girls who fell onto wet canvases when you tried to kiss them?”
One corner of his mouth rises in a half-smile. “No,” he says, simply.
“I didn’t figure.”
“This is definitely a first. I’ve never had to remove a flaming tree from someone’s back.”
“Is the painting still intact back there?”
“More than you might think. Or it was. I’m almost done though. The next time you fall onto a wet painting you might want to wear a shirt made of thicker fabric.”
“I had no intentions of falling on anything tonight.”
“Next time maybe you can fall forward.”
He meets my eyes in the mirror again and I feel my knees buckle. This time I do fall forward and catch myself with the vanity.
“I’m such a dork,” I say.
Chris makes one last swipe down my back. “No, you’re not.” He drops the paint-soiled sponge into the sink and then places both hands on my shoulders. “I think soap will do the rest, and also, I think the straps on your bikini might be ruined.”
I shrug. The weight and warmth of Chris’s hands against my skin renders me speechless. I swallow, trying to separate my paralyzed vocal cords.
“Okay.” He squeezes my shoulders and then lets go. “You take a shower. I’m going to go finish the kitchen floor.”
After he leaves, I turn on the shower to the hottest setting and lie in the bathtub. I didn’t get to kiss him tonight, but the sensation of his hands against my shoulders was almost as satisfying, and maybe it was just a precursor of what is to come?
For now, I close my eyes, breathe in the steam, and let the hot water massage my skin.
Chapter 14
Sarah
I sit at the small table in Old Towne Ghost Tours’ breakroom picking through a salad that’s barely edible. I threw lettuce, chicken, and cheese together along with raspberry vinaigrette. It tastes like I dumped two cups of sugar on my salad. Why did I think cheddar cheese and raspberry vinaigrette would mix? I won’t be hired as a chef anytime soon.