Build Me Up (NaNoWriMo)

Day 10 (3,196 words)

Author's Note: This chapter was largely inspired by my BFF, @loveepiclove, and our crazy Skype conversation. She thinks we should do podcasts of our phone conversations, but I don't know if people would be thrilled about hearing me wheezing with laughter for 20 percent of the time... Go check out her Aussie-speaking stories ; )

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Ford picked his jaw off the ground and dusted it off. “Excuse me?”

“I’m here to offer a peace treaty,” Kristen said and held out the basket for his inspection. “In the shape of cinnamon rolls.”

Ford peered into the basket and couldn’t see any snakes or scorpions crawling around. “Are they poisoned?”

“Oh come on, where do you live? The Fantasmical Kingdom of Greenport?” she rolled her eyes and shoved the basket into his arms. The rim jabbed him in the chest, but he didn’t flinch. Much.

“Very gracious of you,” he muttered. “What brought this on?”

“I didn’t bake them myself, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she huffed, her hands – now unoccupied – had found their way to her hips. Her fingers were flexing against the fabric of her dress. It didn’t look too fancy… had she been shopping at the Save n’ Smart?

“You didn’t take a lot of conflict resolution classes in college, did you?” he raised his eyebrows at the supposed peacemaker.

“You didn’t go to college, did you?” she shot back.

“Actually, I did. That’s how you get certified to do the work your boss has hired me to do,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

There was a moment of silence and he thought he could hear the cogs turning in her brain – or was that the seagulls choking on litter?

“Okay. Let me try this again,” she said and took a step back, making some weird shaking gesture with her hands – was she a drama major? – and centering herself (he’d seen that on TV).

“I’m sorry I’ve come off as unprofessional in our previous interactions. I’ve been a bit… stressed… coming out here and trying to piece this project together. It’s no excuse for my behavior, and I’d really like it if you would give me another chance.”

Ford tilted his head and surveyed her. “How long did you spend formulating that little speech?”

“Twenty minutes or so, under a lukewarm shower spray,” she sighed.

Yeah, he could definitely have done without that mental image.

“Plumbing issues?”

“Probably cat hair in the heating system.”

“Where are you living, exactly?” he frowned.

“The Breeze Inn. Trust me; I’m ready to breeze right on out of there.”

“With Mrs. Breezer?”

“And her cats. I’ve only seen two of them so far, but any day now, the third is bound to make an appearance and claw my eyes out.”

“Not a cat lover?”

“I don’t have a problem with animals. Just their hair. And their claws. And teeth.”

“So skinks would be okay with you, then?”

“Huh?”

“Australian lizard things?”