Мыши выдают дочь замуж. Народное творчество
clippings on the coffee table—that had been the worst. So that was what she would think about.
Toenail clippings. Toenail clippings. Toenail clippings…
It helped. At least enough to get her through the front door.
“Are you okay?” Michael asked as she belatedly stepped inside.
He was smiling a confused sort of smile and there were two creases between his full eyebrows that let her know he’d seen her hesitancy.
“It’s just a little strange,” she told him.
“I know. For me, too. But I think that will go away.”
It’ll go away if I imagine you leaving toenail clippings on the coffee table….
“Anyhow,” he said then, “I thought we could put the dog out back so we can keep the door open while we bring in your stuff.”
“We?”
“I’m not going to let you do it alone,” Michael informed her.
That was nice. And above and beyond the call of duty for a mere roommate. But Josie was a little concerned with the precedent it might set if he acted like a boyfriend. So she said, “You really don’t have to. It’s only clothes and some boxes. There isn’t furniture or anything. I like to keep encumbrances to a minimum.”
“Well, I can’t just sit and watch.”
No, that definitely wouldn’t be an improvement. Not when she could almost feel those penetrating green eyes on her every time he looked her way. Not when they turned the heat up on her whole body.
Besides, she reasoned, the sooner she unloaded her car and could lock herself in her own room—away from Michael and his effect on her—the better. So she conceded. “Okay. Thanks, I’d appreciate the help.”
“Good. Then let’s get the dog out back.”
Michael led the way across the living room that was decorated sparsely in brown leather and oak, to the swinging door that connected the kitchen and dining room. The back door was between the two and after Josie had removed Pip’s leash, the big dog was only too happy to go out to investigate his new domain.
Then Josie and Michael retraced their steps and began the process of getting her moved in.
Her room was to be the one across the hall from his and she advised him to just leave the boxes on the floor there and the clothes on the double bed with the white chenille spread.
He did as he was told and with the exception of a comment here and there, they worked without saying much.
By shortly before nine they were finished, but rather than Michael saying a simple good-night and leaving her to her own devices, he said, “How about a glass of wine to toast our new living arrangement while we sort through the details?”
“The details?”
“I always think sharing space goes better if you talk about some things up front.”
Josie was a free-and-easy kind of person, which was how she approached everything, so she’d always just addressed the details of living with other people when they cropped up. But if he liked to set ground rules at the start, she was okay with that, too. The wine, on the other hand? She wasn’t too sure about the wisdom in that.
“I have to work tomorrow so maybe I should pass on the wine,” she said.
“Come on, one glass isn’t going to do any harm,” he insisted, not waiting for her to decline a second time before he headed out of her room.
There were two sets of stairs leading from the second level—stairs with a beautifully carved oak banister that descended into the living room, and much plainer, more serviceable steps that led to the kitchen. It was the kitchen stairs that Josie followed Michael down, trying not to notice his to-die-for derriere as she did.
While he poured two glasses of the Riesling, Josie let Pip in and filled the water bowl she’d brought with her from one of her boxes in the bedroom.
“Where shall I put this?” she asked Michael, holding up the dog dish.
“How about alongside the counter near the door? That should be out of the way enough to keep us from spilling it.”
Josie placed the bowl where Michael had suggested and then turned back to him to accept the wine.
“Here’s to us,” he said, touching his glass to hers with a little clang.
“To us,” she said tentatively, trying hard to keep her perspective when it would have been so easy for all of this to seem romantic.
They each sipped the golden liquor and then Michael went to what looked like an old, scarred teacher’s desk that he used as a kitchen table. He pulled out one of the four mismatched chairs that surrounded it, motioned for her to sit, and took a second chair for himself.
“You must have a lot of details to discuss,” Josie said as she joined him.
“A few details and something else,” he said mysteriously. Then he launched into the details.
“First of all, here are housekeys,” he said, sliding a set from the center of the table to a spot right in front of her. “They’re for the front door and the dead bolt, and the gold-colored one works the lock on the back door—although I never use mine and I don’t know when you would, either.”
“I guess it’s good to have one, anyway.”
Then he said, “Bathrooms.”
“Always a touchy subject,” she agreed.
“Since I have one in my bedroom it’ll be mine and the one off the upstairs hall can be yours. The downstairs lav, of course, can be used by both of us and by guests, if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure.”
“I won’t even go into yours upstairs so feel free to keep whatever you want in the vanity or the medicine cabinet—I’ve already cleared them out for you.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not a stickler when it comes to food. My mother keeps me well stocked with leftovers and casseroles and you’re welcome to eat anything that looks good to you. But if you buy yourself something special and don’t want me to touch it, just put your name on it and I’ll know not to—”
“I’m not a stickler about that, either,” she said. “You’re welcome to anything I bring in, too.”
He paused before he went on and it let Josie know that the next point wasn’t as easy a detail as the others had been.
“I was also thinking that maybe it would be better if we made a rule against bringing dates home,” he said then, broaching the topic gingerly.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” she said honestly, instantly taking a dislike to the idea that he would be dating at all, let alone that he might bring another woman home. The way he’d brought her home…
Michael smiled again, looking slightly sheepish. “I don’t think I could handle you and some guy…”
Okay, that helped.
“Besides,” Josie offered, “we shouldn’t run the risk that one of us could have someone here when your mother happened to show up.”
“That, too,” he agreed. “Which brings me neatly to the something else I needed to talk to you about.”
“Does that mean we’re done with the details?” she asked, teasing him slightly.
He smiled a smile that went straight into her bloodstream and made it run quicker.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Only a little. I didn’t know you were a detail man.”
“Really?