Marco stood up to stretch, lifting his arms above his head. I had my glasses on this time and was able to fully appreciate the part of his stomach he exposed. The abs were still there, safe and sound. I sighed happily.
“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked. “There’s a smoothie place around the corner.”
“Gross. I don’t even like to eat vegetables. I definitely don’t want to drink them, either.”
He smiled at that. “There’s a diner a couple of blocks over. I could load you up on some carbs and protein.”
Very tempting, but I had to go home. “I had a curfew of midnight when I was in high school. As far as I know, it’s never been updated, so I might be in big trouble when my grandparents realize that I was out all night.”
“Can’t you just tell them you got up early to go jogging?”
I laughed, and he looked confused, so I said, “Oh, you don’t know me well enough yet. They’ll never believe that. I don’t really like moving around a whole lot.”
“You can’t just sneak in?”
“They’re early risers. Not only that, but the birds will alert them.”
“Too bad the birds can’t be bribed.”
I stood up, realizing that I didn’t want to. I was happy where I was. I wanted to stay here. “Too bad,” I echoed, wondering at what point I was going to stop having this crush on Marco so that I could focus all my energy on Craig.
“My dad’s estate had some guard dogs that were big fans of steak. It’s definitely helpful when treats work.” The idea of a young Marco grabbing some filet mignons to tempt angry dogs with was an endearing thought.
Yep, definitely time for me to leave before I started daydreaming about that. “I should go and face the music.”
“Do you have your ticket from the valet? I’ll call them up and have them bring your car around.”
I took it from my pocket and handed it to him. I gathered up the glass and dishes I had used last night and brought them into the kitchen. I passed by the Craig binder, still on the table.
Putting the dishes in the sink, I walked back to the binder and again ran my fingers along the edges. I was surprised that I hadn’t spent a large chunk of last night reading it.
“Car’s on the way,” Marco said as he hung up his phone. “What do we need to take downstairs?”
I showed him the piles of clothes and makeup. He grabbed a couple of laundry baskets, and we were able to get everything down in one trip.
When we went out through the lobby, Betty was waiting there patiently for me out front.
“How do you know when it’s time to change the oil?” he asked. “Does it send you a message in Morse code?”
“I told you, no insults where she can hear you.” I went to open the back passenger door, but it was stuck. I tugged on the handle. “See? This is why you don’t upset her.”
“Let me help.” Marco leaned in, and I tried not to jump away from his nearness. I’d thought spending a lot of time with him would inoculate me to his potent brand of appeal, but I was finding that it only seemed to be exacerbating the situation. He yanked and wrenched the door open.
“Thanks.” We started loading my stuff up in the back seat.
“So this probably isn’t a good time to ask you, but I’m curious. When your modified lawn mower comes to a stop, do you have to stick your feet down through holes in the floor to make that happen?”
I just shook my head. “Don’t listen to him, Betty.”
Once everything was put away, I slammed the door shut. Marco had stepped back and stood next to the curb, his hands in his pockets.
Without thinking, I stepped forward and hugged him. I couldn’t help myself. I felt his surprise, the way his body went rigid for a moment before he relaxed, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tightly.
Still wonderful, but a bit easier to manage this time. I didn’t think I was going to injure him or myself.
Progress.
“Just practicing,” I told him as an explanation. Total lie, but hopefully he couldn’t tell.
“Do you want to go out with me tonight?” he asked against the top of my head. His tone indicated that he seemed surprised he’d asked me.
My voice probably sounded the same when I answered, “Yes.”
Not a good idea, not a good idea, some internal voice said, but I ignored it.
Realizing that I’d been holding on to him for too long, I finally let go. It was most likely my imagination, but he seemed reluctant to release me.
“Okay. So, I’m going to head out. Thanks for last night.” I put my hands down at my sides so that he hopefully wouldn’t notice the way I was trembling.
He put his hands back in his pockets. “I’ll text you about tonight.”
I smiled and then walked around to get in my car. I said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t die because after hugging him like that, I did not need more potential embarrassment.
He knocked on the passenger window, and I had to lean over to manually roll it down. I wondered if I’d forgotten something.
Marco leaned in on the passenger side, resting his forearms on the door. Then he flashed me that killer smile of his and said, “My favorite Muppet is Animal. In case you were wondering.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There was no hope of sneaking in when I got home, as the birds erupted into a cacophony of sound the instant I walked in the door.
I couldn’t even be too concerned about it, though, because I was still running the image of Marco’s face through my head as he told me that Animal was his favorite Muppet. My grandpa was in the family room with his newspaper, and my grandmother came from the kitchen into the foyer.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
“I told you not to wait up,” I said as I kicked my shoes off.
She seemed so mad that for a second, she didn’t register anything else about me. But then the observant scientist in her couldn’t help but take in every detail of my appearance. “What did you do to yourself?”
“It’s just a little bit of color,” I said defensively. It was a good thing I’d left all my stuff in the car or else I’d be answering questions about that, too. I could only imagine how much she would freak out if she knew Marco was buying me things.
“Why did you have this makeover?” she asked, clearly wanting her question answered.
“So I would look nice, Grandma.”
My grandpa piped up from behind his paper. “You know what they say—even an old barn looks better with a fresh coat of paint.”
“Thanks, Grandpa. I think.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be helpful or if he thought I usually looked like an old barn.
My grandmother crossed her arms. “Are you trying to live up to some standard that this Marco has set?”
“That’s not what this is about.” It wasn’t about Marco at all. I didn’t think trying to introduce Craig into the conversation right now would be a good idea, though.
Because I knew she’d tell me that any man I had to change myself for wasn’t worth my time.
She pressed her lips together so that they formed a thin line. I could feel the lecture coming on. Lecture Number 496—how there were so many other important things going on in the world that I didn’t need to worry about frivolous things like hair color and painted nails.