Her fingers posed over the tiny keyboard. You weren’t supposed to reply to stalkers. Still, she needed to buy time. Her fingers flew over the keyboard hating the fact she was replying along with the reason behind needing to reply.
What email? I didn’t get any email.
Her response might buy her some time. She sent the email wondering if Clint, surrounded by a half dozen cronies, used her as an example as he gave instructions on how to make a woman crawl back.
Nope, it wasn’t going to happen. The tap on her window caused her to drop her phone.
Lynne stood outside the car wrapped in an oversized Kiss the Cook apron. Throwing her a forced smile, Tonya lowered the window. “Do you have any real right wearing that apron?”
“None,” her friend admitted with a shrug. “Marc brought dinner home from work as a favor since I scared up the single female.”
“’Yippee,’ said the single female.” Tonya teased her friend, before powering up the window. Grabbing her phone from the car floor, she regarded it the way one would a poisonous snake.
Depressing the car door handle, she waited until her friend backed up before exiting.
Tonya slammed the car door, prepared to follow her friend, but Lynne wasn’t moving. Instead, her friend pursed her lips as she perused her outfit. “You chose that to wear?” Using her tongue to make a clicking noise, she announced her disapproval as if her face hadn’t already.
Balling up her fists, Tonya placed them on her hips. Pushing her chin out at a belligerent angle, she asked, “What’s wrong with what I have on? I happen to like it.”
Before Lynne could reply, a mellow baritone interjected. “I like it too, especially on you. Looks good.”
Whoa. Not Marc’s familiar East Coast accent. Lynne’s open mouth announced that the man in question arrived.
Might as well make polite, they’d have to meet sometime. Placing one boot behind the other, she pivoted expecting to meet some senior partner or steel-jawed legal tiger. The smiling brown haired man standing next to the sports car clutching a wine bottle looked so ordinary, even pleasant.
A quick scan revealed he was in his business attire minus the suit jacket. His loosened tie and undone top button announced he was ready to leave work behind for the day.
He held out his empty hand. “Hi, I am Will. Will Robinson.”
Tonya gave his hand a vigorous shake remembering her business training that a weak handshake always decreased the client’s confidence in your ability. “Hi Will Robinson. Wasn’t your family trying to get to Alpha Centauri?” The quip may have been ill advised, but his name brought up memories of an old science fiction show sometimes featured in black and white reruns. It also help cover her surprise that his simple touch jumpstarted a chemical reaction. One she considered out of commission.
Will kept her hand a tad longer than needed while his eyes twinkled. “Ah, we weren’t that Robinson family. Mine was the one, that hadn’t seen the show and didn’t understand why naming me Will was not a kindness.”
Tonya found herself grinning back at the witty lawyer. “Did the other kids pick on you?”
“Not too much, but there was this one female who gave me a hard time and I didn’t even know her name.” He nodded toward the front door where Lynne stood waiting.
She almost asked him what grade this was until she realized he was referring to her. “Oh, her. The name’s Tonya Smiley.”
Her last name embarrassed her. It was such a pretty name like loving or serene. It sounded contrived like the hostess on a single cruise. To push past the inevitable remarks about having a beautiful smile or even her name suiting her, she went defensive. “Why were you sneaking around eavesdropping on our girl talk?”
Her abrupt question caused Lynne to cough madly. In between coughs, she managed to mutter, “Watch it.”
Will threw his hands up over his head, one still wrapped around the neck of the wine bottle. “You got me, I’m guilty. I snuck out the side door that Marc showed me to retrieve the wine I forgot. The two of you were deep into conversation. I didn’t think it was my place to interrupt, but when I felt your outfit was being criticized I had to say something.”