Every Girl Does It (7 page)

She h
a
ng
s
up, leaving me in a state of panic and disarray. I look down and moan. Yup
,
still in the sweat pants.
I hear my door bell and
fe
el
myself
say
in slow motion, “J
ust a sec!” Only it sounds
low
,
like you see on TV when they do the
really dramatic scenes
.
Luckily, my body
is
still moving at normal speed, so
I
dive
into
my room like a tornado and thro
w on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grab my measuring supplies
,
and
return to
unbolt the door.

February. It
’
s Mr. February. I remember
because he has
blue eyes
you
can
get lost in
, yet he look
s
way older than me, most likely
in his
fortys
.

“Hey, sorry to barge in
,
but
th
e
girl at the store said
–”

I cut him off with my hand.
“No
,
it
’
s fine
.
C
ome on in.
”

“Oh okay, thanks
.”
He stuff
s
his hands in his pockets and duck
s
, yes I did say
duck
s
,
into my family room. “Nice place.” He turn
s
to smile at me
,
but his teeth were
,
well
,
let
’
s just say, not straight. Now I know why he didn’t smile in the
calendar
picture. He
does
have a good smolder
,
but a goo
d smile? Not so much.
I
did his measurements and sent him on his way.

January
was next, then March, April, June, May, September, November, July, and August.

All I had left was October and December. I was hoping that Mr. October would arrive before Mr. December, then maybe I could bolt my door closed and say s
omething in a creepy accent
. “She no here no more, she die.”
Then Preston would be forced to leave and get his measurements done elsewhere, anywhere
.
I don’t even care. I
’
ll give references
,
or better yet
,
I
’
ll have my own personal seamstress call him.

The doorbell r
ings
again
. I
take a deep breath
, open
it
,
and came face to face with my past.

“Bobby?”

I
didn’t see that coming. H
e wasn’t in the calendar
. Not
once did I see him in the calendar. What
’
s
he doing here? He couldn
’t be one of the male models. Yeah,
that would be ironic. He
pushes
his
fingers
through his curly st
ill sandy brown hair and
gives
me the smile,
dim
ples and all. Nope, I know he
’
s not in the cal
endar.
I would
n’
t
have bou
ght it had I known or seen him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask a little too rude for
someone I hadn’t seen in over five
years.

His smile fade
s
as h
is eyes scan me up and down.

“I thought this
was
where Jane said to come for the measurements?”

“For the
male models
,”
I sa
y slowly
.
T
he p
oor guy
,
maybe he
’
s confused, not that he couldn’t be a male mo
del.

“Yeah
, um
,
I
got that part. I’m Mr. October,
Nampa
F
ire
D
epartment
? A
ll of us are doing the shoot?”

“I thought you were
going to be a pastor?” I
manage to say
with heavy sarcasm
as I widen
the door for him to enter.
What a
weird twist of events.

“Yeah,
about that,” he look
s
sheepish almost
.

W
hat had happened to
my Swedish fish loving ex-
boyfriend who thought I was materialistic?

“It wasn’t really for me. I quit after my first year in seminary and decided to become a fireman. In a way
,
it’s still like being a pastor
.
Y
ou know
,
saving people from the fiery pits, just not the spiritual ones.” He wink
s
and shrug
s
his
massive
shoulders. Fire fighting had been good to his body
;
that
much was obvious. But I
didn’t remember having seen h
im as Mr. October. However, I did
n’
t want
to admit to him I
’
d actually seen part of the calendar
, so I
’
d
have to
wait until it came in the mail.

Nodding, I
grab my measurement tape. “Okay
,
so if you could just take your shirt off now.”

He
looks
at me as if I just ask him if he could please eat my cat
,
and
pales
as I wait
for him to do what I ask. Sighing, I explain
,
“
To
get t
he measurements for the muscle T
-
shirts
.
I can’t do that with your bulky sweater on. So if you
’
d be so kind as to take it off
,
I
’
ll make this experience as painless as possible.
It's okay.
I'm a professional.
”

He hesitat
es slightly
before taking off
his shirt, revealing
chiseled abs and a nice spray
on tan
.
Trust me, I know.
I beg
i
n measuring and notice that
,
not only
is
he extremely close to me
,
but h
is body
is
radiating heat, to
o
much heat. Wanting to look up and see what his problem
is
, my brain
kicks
into gear and
reminds
me it wouldn’t be wise.
Wait
a second,
is that a
Rolex
watch? What in the world! And he called me materialistic. I snort out loud in disgust.

“Is something wrong?” He
asks politely
.

“Nope. You
’
r
e
good
,”
I
repl
y
still
maintaining
my no eye contact rule. “
Y
ou c
an put your shirt back on now. Give me a moment to take the
rest of the measurements and you can go.”

H
e put
s
his shirt back on and
I
allow
myself to let go of the breath
I had
,
apparently
,
been holding.
It’s
not that I
’m
attracted to him
.
I mean,
he
’
s good looking
, but
he still
broke
n
my heart
,
an
d something about him just seemed off. A
ll girls want the guy who
dumped them to come crawling back
,
and I’m not saying
I wouldn’t welcome it
. But
I
’
m
s
till recovering
from the shock of it all. Wait, this
means h
e
and Preston work together. Odd.

The knock on the door
interrupts
my thoughts.
I
know
who it
is
on the other side. "Hang on a sec, that's my last model, I think."
I
indicate a chair for
Bobby
and
str
i
de slowly to
open my door.

“Hey
,
little miss note writer, miss me?” Preston
grins
and
brushe
s
past me
without
an invitation
. Well
,
this should be fun and totally not tense at all, nope. H
e
doesn’t
notice Bobby s
itt
ing there
. In
Preston
’
s defense
,
Bobby was
strangely
quiet.

“
Are you
going to back out of the trip
,
panda bear
?” He
’
s trying
to break me. I
can
feel it
,
and I
won’t
go down without a fight.

“I have no idea what
you’re
talking about
.
I
fully intend
to
go on t
he trip without you. My cat
’
s going instead.
” I put my nose in the air and cross my arms.

“Oh
,
wow
.
I
f that doesn’t scream desperate spinster
,
I don’t know what does.” His face
is
so smug I want to throw Mrs. Butterworth at him
, claws first
. I tried to tell her in my mind to attack him, but instead she
walks
right up to him and
purrs
! How dare she! Shouldn’t she
be able to sense my anger?
Plus
,
this is
her territory
,
and he
’
s a
mean man
.

He pick
s
her up and s
trok
es
her face
,
not at all thrown off by the odd way she
looks
. “
H
ow many cats do you have
,
Amanda?”

I roll my eyes and walk back to where Bobby
is
silently gaping. His face
is
twisted with some sort of hostility
,
and
I
can’t
tell if it
’
s directed at me or at Preston.

“We’re almost done here
,”
I call back to Preston
,
but he d
oes
n’t seem the least bit fazed
.
H
e just
shrugs
and
continues
petting Mrs. Butterworth. He either
doesn’t
notice
Bobby
glaring
at
him
,
or he
doesn’t
care. I
n Preston
’s defense
,
it wouldn’t
be a fair fig
ht
anyway
. He could destroy Bobby
.
H
e would be declared the winner based on his height alone.
.