She's Out of Control (16 page)

“I mean that charm that gets people to do your bidding without even asking. What's that like?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He holds up his hand. “Excuse me, can I get a refill on my coffee?”

The waitress practically giggles and puts a tray down to bring him his coffee immediately.

“You don't notice that this kind of service is unusual?”

“They're charging $10.95 for pancakes. It ought to be good service.”

I cross my arms. “You live a charmed life. How is my puppy doing?”

“Your puppy is fabulous. He's been carrying around an old T-shirt of yours that he attacked to remind himself of your scent, I suppose.”

“An old T-shirt?”

“Bright lime green thing. He's ripped it to shreds.”

I tap the table. “That's a Lilly pistachio tee.” I look down at my hands. “It wasn't old.”

I look up and Kevin makes a face. “It is now. Maybe you should teach Rhett about focal destroying.”

I pretend to punch him across the table, and he grabs my fist and places the hottest kiss on my hand. He opens my palm and places one there as well, and I feel my entire body come to life. Kevin looks away and says nothing about the kiss as he places my hand gently back onto the table.

“The décor here is really fabulous.” Kevin says. “I need to hire a decorator, or at least that's what my mother tells me. She says my house looks like
Trading Spaces
—after Hilda's been there. Do you like decorating?”

Kevin's townhome would be a dream to decorate. The singles went there for movie night. It's got great coffered ceilings in the dining room and simple crown molding everywhere else, a granite kitchen, but absolutely no wall color besides white. And the furniture? He's obviously inherited classic pieces from his mother, but against the white, it all appears way too Ikealike. “You need some color. Doesn't it bug you to be in a white box? Colors make you feel. Bright yellow? Happy! Red? Sensual. Blue? Carefree and relaxed. Green? Calm. Whenever I've been to your place, I've wanted to come in wielding a paintbrush.”

“So why don't you?” He shrugs. “You could paint it whatever color you think I'd like. I trust you.”

“You seem like a midnight-blue guy to me. You know, deep and strong like the night sky.”

He starts to growl and we both start to crack up. “So, what else did Rhett do while I was away?”

“Let's just say Bible study wasn't the same with your puppy joining us.”

“So Kay's had the puppy since Wednesday?”

“Seth's been working around the clock. Kay felt like she had to take care of him because Seth almost took him back to the pound. I had Rhett a couple nights after I took him to see Brianna.”

“Brianna's the little girl with cancer?”

Kevin nods. “You'd love her, Ashley. She's just got the fire of life in her, and I just feel with my whole heart she's going to beat it. She's not my patient, but we've all fallen in love with her on the ward.”

“Small wonder. She sounds fabulous. I'm sorry about Rhett being so much trouble. I guess I should have admitted that having a dog is too much for me. Kay's going to kill me when I get home. Why didn't you tell me before that Rhett's been with her that long?”

Kevin focuses on a Howard Behrens painting. “Kay
is
going to kill you.” Then he looks straight at me. “But if I told you, I wouldn't be having breakfast with you right now. Would I? I'm no fool. My mama didn't pay for a fancy education for nothing.”

I start to laugh. “Charming me is not fair. You realize that I'm very impressionable. That I've just been dumped for a promotion.”

“For now.” Our meals come, and Kevin takes my hand. “Let's pray. Dear heavenly Father, we just praise you for this time together. For Ashley's safe trip home, and for her possible promotion, Father. We know you hold it in the palm of your hands. Bless this meal, and bless our ride home.” Kevin takes the plate with vegetables from in front of me, and slides over the pancakes. “Enjoy yourself for once, will you? Atkins is gone, and you don't need to lose a pound.”

“They've done studies that show . . .” I look at the slathered whipped cream and the pancakes, and my mouth stings like a Pavlovian dog. “You're really going to eat the vegetables instead of this?”

“You don't seem to understand
me
at all. Do you, Ashley?” He takes a huge forkful of zucchini and shoves it into his mouth. “For you, I'd even eat rabbit food.”

After chowing down the pancakes like I hadn't seen food for a week, Kevin helps me back into the Porsche, and we start down the freeway. Along with a cash tip, he left a tract for the waitress and a small Gideon-like New Testament. Poor thing, she probably thinks it's his phone number, but hopefully, she'll be interested enough to read the Book. I have to say he's a powerful witness, because he possesses this mystique that's indescribable. Who wouldn't want to own that?

“So you missed your puppy?” Kevin asks.

“I did. I got this great new bag in Taiwan to carry him to work in.”

Kevin starts to laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing. What kind of bag?”

“It's a Versace knockoff, and it's beige and black. Just gorgeous. Rhett is going to be to-die-for in it. It was between that and this great Dooney and Bourke tassel tote. Well, there was a Deborah Lewis sailor bag in lime that got my attention, too, but then I saw the price and, hey. But she had an incredible mock-croc doctor bag. Do you think that would be write-off for you?”

“Did you actually work in Taipei? Or just shop?”

“I sorta shop when I'm nervous.”

“Then it sounds like you have an anxiety disorder, Ashley. Should I prescribe something for that?”

Sure, your paycheck
. “I got a bonus for traveling.”

“Did the bonus cover the ring and the purse?”

“What are you, my mother?”

Kevin tosses his head back in laughter and punches the gas pedal. “I'm just thinking it's probably cheaper for Seth to support Arin's mission for a lifetime than your weekly shopping habit.”

All humor disintegrates with this comment. Seth has watched me spend a lot of money. Maybe he worries I'm like a slow-moving waterfall, constantly draining his supposed trust until it isn't there.

We pull up to my house, and there's a pile of wood in the front yard—an obvious diversion from Kay's normal
Better Homes & Gardens
look. I can hear Rhett barking continuously and I run to the gate before getting my bags. Opening the gate, I see this much-bigger-than- Rhett dog come lurching at me, and I brace for impact. The dog and I tumble to the hard concrete. Deep brown eyes stare at me, my cheek is under the blanket of a huge pink tongue, and I realize it is Rhett. He's obviously been eating well.

Kevin comes around the back and helps me to my feet.

I look at the dog suspiciously. “Rhett's a big terrier, don't you think?”

“Actually, the pound called Seth while you were gone. They made a mistake. The neighbor didn't know her breeds too well. He's half-boxer, half-shepherd. Not terrier.”

I mull this over a bit. “Who doesn't know the difference between a terrier and a shepherd, Kevin?”

“The same type of person who doesn't get his dog neutered and lets him hop over the fence, Ashley.”

“Look at him, Kevin.” I reach up a hand, and Kevin helps me off the hard ground. “He's a lot bigger—he fit into my Lilly bag before I left! And those feet! He hasn't stopped yet.”

“Is this the bag you were going to put him in?” Kevin holds up my new Versace.

“That's it. I guess I've got about a week before he's out of it, huh?” We both break into laughter before I realize this is
so
not funny. I have a dog who, judging by the size of his gargantuan paws, is going to be the size of a Great Dane and I own a yard big enough for a terrier. “I guess he's not a froufrou dog, is he?”

“Are you going to give him back?”

I instantly cover the dog's ears. “Never! Do you give back your child when he throws a tantrum?”

I notice something new in the yard, and realize that Kay bought him a doghouse. How sweet is that? But she's going to be beside her-self when Rhett is full-grown. Kay, the woman who has her Tupperware sorted and numbered, has been looking after the future Conan the Dog for the week. I glance into the garage and there's an enormous bag of dog food beside a brand-new, giant dog bed. Clearly, she's noticed his paws. I'm in so deep.

Meanwhile, Kevin's still smiling. “Look at the size of that dog bowl. It's like its own lake.” Rhett is right at my heel, as handsome as ever. I rub his ears until he lies down on my feet. “It's okay, Kevin. He can't get much bigger.”

“You've only been gone two weeks, Ashley.”

Clearly, Rhett has hardly begun to blossom. I start to bite my nails, and I don't even bite my nails. Exhaling deeply, I know it's time to face the music. “I better find Kay. I think we need to have a discussion.” Rhett comes in behind me, nipping at my feet like a tiny Pomeranian.

I go into the house, and it's covered with dust and there's this frantic, consistent pounding. I walk to the noise: my bathroom, but it's not there. It's a few sparse two-by-fours and a dusty Kay in the middle of it. Rhett is barking. “Shh, Rhett. Kay, what's going on?”

“You're finally back, huh?” Kay is whacking the wall with a sledge hammer. “Demolition. It's cheaper to do it by myself, and with your little pony out there, he's done enough damage on his own, so I figured I'd get started.” Kay is covered in the chalky white dust of broken Sheetrock, and the toilet is lying well away from its rightful place with only a metal ring marking its previous location.

“So we're sharing a bathroom now?”

Kay's eyes thin into slivers, and I could swear she's about to utter,
“I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog, too
.” But she doesn't say anything; she just goes back to taking her aggression out on the wall. My bathroom wall. My
former
bathroom wall.

“If you need a place to stay . . .” Kevin says behind me, and Rhett has found his way onto my bed, which is covered with a layer of dust and dog hair.

“That's the bathroom I just purchased, Kevin. There's a mortgage attached to that nonexistent toilet. She could have asked.”

“She's probably saying the same thing about you and the dog.”

“Don't you have a life to save somewhere?”

“Yes, and she's standing in front of me,” he answers plainly. “If you want to stay at my place . . .”

“Oh yeah, that's appropriate.” I roll my eyes, wondering what I invoke in men to make them think sharing a room with me is an option. My clothes clearly say well-bred and sophisticated. They do not read on-the-make.

“I'm never home, Ashley. I can sleep at the hospital. I didn't mean I'd be there. Besides, you have some painting to do there anyway, don't you?”

He actually means I can have his place, and I'm struck by his devotion to me, which is so undeserved. So completely mystifying. Whatever he sees in me, be it Mensa material or some strange preoccupation with the average-looking, I wish Seth saw it too. It would have made my life so much less complicated. Kevin is not an option. Doesn't he get that?

I look him straight in the eye. “Am I the type of woman who gets married?” I whisper to avoid Kay's overhearing. “Or am I the type you think will grow old gracefully and alone? Perhaps bitterly?”

Kevin lifts a single brow. “I think you're whatever type of woman you want to be. You just have to be quiet and hear God's voice.” Then he turns away from me, and I hear a whisper trying to mimic the voice of God. “You were created to be a doctor's wife.”

He steps closer, and I feel a warm breeze, like a Hawaiian evening. A mist of comfort overcomes me, and for the first time, I wonder if he actually feels anything for me. I always thought Seth was a practical choice. Kevin is everything but practical.

I clap my hands together to break up our proximity. “Go, rescue someone who needs rescuing.”
Marriage? We don't even know each other
.

A mortgage on a bathroom that doesn't exist, a puppy that might grow into a Clydesdale, the wrong man's attention, a recent boyfriend supporting another woman, and a boss who has too much going on in his personal life to think about my promotion. What exactly is it about me that attracts toxic mold? Why am I my own science experiment?

15

I
am not, by nature, a weight lifter, or really even a gym girl. This is why owning a medium-sized (um, potentially large) dog is a whole new experience. Once the dog food in the garage is gone, I go to the pet store, which is as nice as Bloomingdale's if you're a dog, and scout the aisles. I now know why they let you bring pets in here. It's like Disneyland for Rhett. He sniffs the cats for adoption, goes down the doggie treat aisle eyeing everything, and finally halts, twisting his head in confusion at the sight of turtles climbing over each other.

“I know. Weird, aren't they?” I say to the dog, offering him reassurance.

Which brings us to the dog food aisle. As I look at all these dainty bags of dog food, I think,
That won't last two days at my house
, and then, with horror, I see the appropriate size for us. I look out at my Audi TT in front of the store, and this bag o' chow before me, and I think, is it physically possible to even get that bag in that car? I'm coveting Brea's minivan, and that's just frightening in its own right.

Rhett keeps staring and sniffing. I'm in the dog food aisle while he questions life as he knows it, in the vision of a turtle totem pole. I'm still gazing, open-mouthed, at these enormous cement bags full of kibble, wishing I'd paid more attention to the Cal-OSHA guy at work when he came to speak on lifting. I hear his mantra,
lift from the legs
. But unless I've suddenly sprouted Vin Diesel calves, I don't see this happening.