She's Out of Control (21 page)
“Dare I ask?”
“Rain-forest therapy. It's so great, Ash. They take all these natural oils from the rain forest, and drip them on your back, and it's sup-posed to pull out all the impurities in your body. It helps your body recover, and your immune system be boosted, so you won't get the flu this fall.”
“Did my credit card actually pay for this bit of new-age hogwash? I mean, I appreciate all she's done, don't get me wrong. But she'd probably like a good dinner out. Without Seth bringing along a two-for- one deal, you know?” John glances at me hopefully.
“No, she's gonna love it. Aren't you, Ash?”
Being basted like a Thanksgiving turkey, oh yeah, that's on the top of my list of things to do. And rain forest doesn't exactly create a warm cozy for me. It reminds me of Arin and her monkey kids with Seth.
“Of course I'll enjoy it. Thanks so much!”
I
walk into my office tentatively, realizing that I'm not exactly employee of the year at the moment. I sneak by Hans's office to the back doggie porch. Rhett isn't there. I suck in a breath. No panicking, but my throat tightens like I'm a mother who's lost her child in the crowd. I'm sure he's right here somewhere, but the truth might be darker. In fact, the truth is that I can't even keep track of a puppy.
I run back into the office, hoping to avoid Hans, who, of course, I see immediately. He's sticking his head out his door and using a long, beckoning finger to call me. Why do I act like a four-year-old?
“Ashley, would you come in here, please,” Hans asks. By the look on his face, explaining would do me absolutely no good.
“Hans, I'm sorry about this morning, but . . .”
But I brought an untrained puppy to work and then abandoned him.
Is there even an explanation? Not without going into “women's issues” as Hans calls it. I enter his office and see Rhett huddled in a corner, and a telltale puddle under my boss's desk.
“Are you looking for someone, Ashley?” Hans asks.
“Why'd you take him off the back porch?”
Like I have any leg to stand on here, but accusing really does take the focus off me.
“Because he was howling like a werewolf, and people were complaining that they couldn't talk on their phones without sounding like they were at the dog pound.”
I clamp my eyes shut. I've been let go before. I'll deal. “I'm sorry Hans. I, well, I really don't have a good enough excuse, now do I? Rhett was a gift, and I haven't quite adjusted to his presence in my life. Being in Taiwan . . .” I let my voice trail. I'm going for the pity angle, and praying for the best.
Hans sits at his desk, leans back in his chair and picks up his shiny black phone. “I'm taking the dog home to Sophia for the day. You can pick him up when you're done tonight. I am assuming you're working tonight? Since you've brought us a baby and a dog, but no patent attorney for the day.”
“You're taking my dog into custody?”
“Not custody, just an experiment. I've been thinking if Sophia had some company she might not call me forty times a day. This is the perfect opportunity to find out. It will give my patent attorney time to actually do some work, and my girlfriend simply something to do.”
Like the artwork isn't enough?
“
Drive over with me, so the dog knows Sophia's okay.” He looks at me. “Don't worry, we can talk in the car. Think of it as your weekly meeting with me. I want you to update me on the Taiwan products, anyway.”
Maybe my ego needs a huge reality check, but Hans unnerves me. I feel like if he were given the opportunity . . . He's just too smooth, too sophisticated. And I'm . . . not.
“I just have to check my e-mail before we go.” I jog into my office and bring up the Internet, hoping for some amazing excuse for not going with Hans. What I find is something from Seth.
From: [email protected]
So, what about dinner? I know I don't deserve it, but my parents are in town, and they'd love to meet the girl I've told them so much about. Truce?
From: [email protected]
Dinner would be great. For your parents! Capiche? Working late, so leave me details when/where to be. Ash
There. I don't sound too desperate, and quite frankly, I could take or leave the invitation, but I'm actually excited about it. I mean, I get to see the parents behind the commitment phobe. There have to be some clues there, wouldn't you think?
“You ready to go?” Hans hands me Rhett's leash from my doorway.
“I'm ready.”
Again, Hans places his palm in the small of my back, and I notice all the admins staring at us as we walk out the door. Staring and whispering. Once we're outside, I face my boss. I can completely see how women fall for his charm. He's just so elegant. Like Cary Grant, you want to believe in Hans, that he can be turned around and tamed. Logic tells you otherwise, but logic doesn't always rule in matters of the heart. Just ask me, a textbook case of
Smart Women, Foolish Choices.
I groan as Rhett hops on my leg, destroying the second pair of hose in a day. “You know, leaving together doesn't really look good to the office staff. I think they are wondering what's going on. And could you not touch me?”
Hans's lips curve into a slow, sultry smile. “So you're telling me I should hire a male general counsel so the admins won't talk?” His car chirps gently as it unlocks. “I'm European, Ashley. We help guide women to the car because we have manners, not because we're trying to get lucky.”
I feel like I've shrunk four inches. “Let's just get this over with,” I mumble, pulling Rhett around toward Hans's Jaguar.
Rhett is under the distinct illusion that he is a tiny dog, and he sits on my lap, realizing that tenth of a terrier within, which may not even exist. I certainly hope dog hair is in fashion. Hans sits in the cockpit of his classic, leather-appointed English car and inserts the key into the ignition.
“Did you tell Sophia we were coming?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Why, what's she got to do?”
“It's just polite not to surprise a woman.”
“Isn't surprising her the point? I'm bringing her a dog. Surprise! It seemed to win you over for the bald guy.”
“Seth. And I like bald guys.”
Hans apparently learned to drive on the autobahn. We're at the house in a matter of what seems like seconds. When the garage door goes up, Sophia appears in the doorway. She's casual-gorgeous today, in a pair of navy yoga pants and a pale pink sweatshirt. She acknowledges my presence as if she'd been expecting me.
“Hello! Are you here for a late lunch?” she asks us.
“I brought you a surprise.” Hans pulls Rhett out of the car, and Sophia squeals. Not happily, I might add.
“Where did you get that mongrel?” Her entire face is pursed like a closed sea anemone.
“It's Ashley's dog. His name is Rhett. I thought he might keep you company.”
She smiles at me, unwilling to admit she's just insulted my dog. “Sorry, does he have fleas? I'm highly allergic to dander.”
“Probably has fleas on his fleas” I say. Something about her tone makes me want to add head lice to the list, but I snap my mouth shut.
“Why can't Ashley care for him? Next thing you know, you'll be bringing me sick day care kids from the office. I'm very busy with my art, Hans.”
It suddenly feels very hot, as if the garage is too crowded. Which it is.
Hans's brow darkens, and I catch a glimpse of the ruthless nature that he harbors. I've heard it unleashed on others behind closed doors. But I've never actually seen his face, and it's like a Disney villain. You can picture him rubbing the apple. “You were brought over here to care for kids. My wife seems to be doing that now. The dog is the least of your issues.”
“If you had trained those kids properly, they never would have been the . . .” And she sinks into Italian here. Somehow I'm thankful I can't understand her because it doesn't sound pretty. Even in a romance language.
I must say, I don't want to leave my dog with her. This place feels dark and ugly and Rhett is just a puppy. I pinch Rhett's floppy ear slightly and he whines. I wrinkle my face up with concern. “You know, Rhett is probably going to cry all day if he stays here. He's just getting to know me, and I want him to know he lives at my house. We'll drop him at home, if that's all right with you, Hans.”
My boss looks at Sophia and then at me. “Fine.”
We clamber back in the vehicle so Rhett can shred the rest of my nylons. Rhett snuggles his wet nose against my cheek. “No need to thank me,” I whisper. “I feel the same way.” We cuddle up together.
“So she doesn't like dogs
or
children,” Hans says as he races down his street.
“What's the difference if she doesn't like dogs?”
“I want the kids to have a dog when they come over. They need to have something to look forward to at my house. They hate all those ghastly death paintings on the walls.”
“Why don't you take the kids somewhere else then? I don't imagine Sophia exactly conjures up warm fuzzies for them.”
Sophia is part of the reason their parents split. I can't imagine she'll ever be the cat's meow with the kids. Is that complicated?
He changes the subject. “We've got a board meeting tonight. Can you hang around the office? I'm hoping to introduce you and get this general counsel thing off the ground.”
“I owe my roommate my presence. She's been demolishing our entire house single-handedly, and besides, I promised to meet Seth's parents tonight and say good-bye to him.”
He just nods. “You're a good girl, Ashley.”
We get back to the office, complete with the dog we left with, and our appearance now gives new reasons for cubicle whispers. I rush into my office with Rhett, and make him lie down under my desk while I search databases for competing patents. Just as my eyes start to get fuzzy, the phone rings.
“Ashley Stockingdale.”
“Ashley, it's Kevin.”
My stomach twists like a churro.
That's not supposed to happen
. Engineering geek. Remember?
Bald is beautiful. Geeks are us. Bill Gates is a hottie.
Every woman would allow her stomach to turn at the sight of Kevin. How utterly cliché. I, Ashley Stockingdale, am beyond the obvious. “Hi, Kevin. What's up?”
“I'm coordinating my church team for the servers on Thursday. We're a person short on Thanksgiving at the mission. I know you probably have plans, but I thought I'd ask.”
Okay. Mission work. Mission work isn't a date, and I get to see if Kevin thinks of me the same way when I'm not dressed to the nines, when I look like I could pass the Mensa test. Maybe I'll go without makeup even, so he can see the real me.
Um, no.
I'm mulling this over when he continues. “You'll have time to get home to your family. We serve early.”
Hmm. My family: all-day football, my mother showing me the “secret” to mashed potatoes once again, my pregnant sister-in-law who's still tinier than me.
Or,
down-and-out homeless people I've never met in this lifetime. No-brainer. “I'd love to help.”
“Great, I'll pick you up at eight on Thanksgiving morning. Maybe if we have time we can swing by and see some of the kids at the hospital with Rhett.”
“That sounds great.” He visits his patients on his day off. He's a saint, a yummy saint, and I try not to focus on this. I am, after all, on the rebound. But the ride up is so much fun. It's that downward bounce that wipes you out.
H
ans finally left the office at seven. I sneak out at seven-thirty. I'm late for dinner. I hate to be late, and I'm carting an oversized puppy with me. So much for first impressions. Oh well, Seth is my past. First impressions might also be called last impressions.
The happy news is that I haven't had time to worry about meeting Seth's parents, though I must admit I'm very curious. They've spent a lifetime in China preaching, they supplied their son with a Stanford education, and I wonder where the disconnect starts. Will they act like wealthy elite (like Kevin's parents) or godly missionaries? Perhaps a mixture of both?
I pull up in front of Seth's condo and let Rhett relieve himself on a growing sycamore, and then I knock. Seth's condominium is so typically bachelor. His walls are white, there's dirt in every corner, dust bunnies on the sixties-style linoleum, and the carpet lining the stairs is framed by darkened edges from a lack of vacuuming. On a happy note, I smell Lysol before the door even opens, so I know he cleaned today.
Seth opens the door, and his parents are peering out from behind him. They're tall, much taller than I imagined, and older. Probably in their late seventies. Seth's father has a full head of gray hair, a solid, stocky build, and the same piercing blue eyes as his son's. His mother is still beautiful, with a crown of silver hair up in a bun, gray-blue eyes, and skin aged by the sun. I hand Rhett's leash to Seth and bow like when I'm in Taiwan.
“Dr. and Mrs. Greenwood. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Mrs. Greenwood envelops me in a hug and nods at her son in approval. Dr. Greenwood thrusts a weathered hand my way and shakes mine firmly.
“The pleasure is ours,” Mrs. Greenwood says. “Seth tells us you have a beautiful voice from the Lord Himself, and you have a job as a patent attorney.”
“Well, I'm a patent attorney, anyway. I'm sorry I'm late. See this gorgeous puppy your son gave me? He caused me a bit of trouble at work today. I had to stay a little late.”
“You bought her a dog?” Seth's mother looks confused.
Yeah, join the club. I was thinking princess-cut diamond myself.
