Distracted √

Distracted: Chapter Six

Erin wished she had more to report. "I'm sorry, Patricia. It's been a hectic few days getting settled in," she said. She hated to make excuses, too. "Mr. Spence is back now and we're waiting for slides of his art. They'll be here this week. I've been interviewing him for the introduction, and I spoke with several gallery owners in town about his work." She didn't mention she spent the afternoon ambling from one shop to the next.

Once again she worked at the kitchen island, reviewing her email on her laptop. A curt note from Patricia had her dialing the office first thing in the morning.

"Yes, everything is fine," she said, nodding to Spence as he shook the half-and-half carton at her. He poured some into a coffee cup, stopping when she raised her index finger. Then he lifted the sugar bowl and repeated the process. He poured the steaming brew into the cup and stirred, the spoon tinkling against the ceramic sides.

"Yes, I can hear you," Erin said. Spence stirred softer, then placed the spoon in the sink and pushed the overfull cup towards his editor.

She picked up the cup and sipped. "Ummmm. Yes, yes, I know. Right away. What?" Erin raised her eyes to Spence, then placed the cup on the counter. She swiveled on the stool and looked out the sliding glass door. "Yes, he's much better. He's settling down and we're making progress. Yes. I will, thank you. Goodbye Patricia."

She hung up the phone, then lifted the cup of coffee to her lips. She closed her eyes and let the fragrant steam bathe her face.

On the other side of the counter, Spence lifted his cup and drank. "So, I'm 'much better,' eh?"

She scrunched her nose at him. "I had to tell her something. What did you think I'd say? 'Oh, we ate blackened fish and rice and drank beer and fell asleep in front of the television.' That would go over real well," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

"So you admit it was good."

She rolled her eyes. "It was okay."

"C'mon, admit it. You liked it."

"I said it was okay. It doesn't taste like seafood when you coat it with all those spices and burn it."

"Blacken, not burn," he corrected. "Burned is what you are. Don't you have any sunscreen?"

She looked at her red forearms, then back at her laptop screen. "Yes." Then she ignored him and checked through the rest of her emails, sipping coffee in between responses. The sound of knocking on the sliding glass door startled her.

Spence walked towards the door and slid it open. "Hey buddy," he said, letting Jonathan and Moxie into the house. He glanced towards the beach and waved at Paul. He left the door open, letting the father know his son would return shortly.

Jonathan, however, ignored Spence and skipped to Erin. She swiveled on the bar stool and smiled at the little boy.

"Hi," she said, her voice light and sweet. "What are doing here? Where's your father?"

She sat higher on the seat, looking through the sliding glass door for the familiar blonde man.

"Me and Moxie and Daddy are going to build sandcastles today and we'd like you to judge them," he said. "So, I'm supposed to tell you that you can come out and play in about an hour. That's how long it will take us."

He looked over his shoulder at Spence. "You can play, too."

Erin's smile froze and she turned to Spence.

"Will do, buddy," he said, looking at his watch. "We'll see you at about, say, ten o'clock. Okay?"

Jonathan nodded, his head bouncing up and down, and Moxie barked. Then he flashed another gap-toothed grin at Erin. "See you soon," he said, whistling.

Then the two dashed out the back door, slid under the rail and into the sea grass. They were invisible except for the waving brown fronds, then came back into sight at the crest of the sand dune.

Erin heard the little boy call in the distance, "She said yes!"

Spence closed the door. "Looks like you got an admirer."

Erin still had a frozen smile pasted on her face.

"You can relax now," Spence said.

"I don't how to act around kids," she said, with a trace of panic in her voice. "Except for my sister's kids."

"They're people, only shorter. Just be nice and make sure he wins the sandcastle contest," he said.

"We have too much work to do," she blustered. "I can't be gallivanting on the beach all day."

Spence opened the refrigerator. "It's only an hour," he said. "Hey, you got eggs. I'll make us some omelets."

An hour later, Erin knelt between two castles, looking from one to the other with a serious expression.

"And see, mine's got turrets and a moat," Jonathan said. "Dad's got a moat too, but it's not as deep as mine."

Erin studied the structures, squinting one eye and scrunching her lips at the details. Then she nodded as if making her decision. She tried to stand, but Moxie picked that moment to leap over Paul's castle and at Erin's knees, knocking her onto her backside. The castle crumbled and the dog sprang aside, but not before swiping a pink, wet tongue across Erin's cheek.

"Moxie! No!" Jonathan screeched. "Bad dog."

But Moxie didn't listen. The dog crouched and wiggled its haunches, then jumped back into Erin's lap and bathed her cheeks. Erin lifted her face out of reach and pushed the dog aside.

Spence fell to his knees, laughing so hard he held his stomach.

Paul bit his lip, his hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo shorts.

Erin sat up, then dusted her legs, wincing at the sting of sand brushing her sunburn. "It's okay, Jonathan," she said. "I had already made my decision. I picked your castle."

Jonathan threw his short arms around her neck and hugged, choking her in the process. "That's good because I worked real hard. I wanted you to like mine," he said.

Erin caught the little boy in her arms and squeezed. "You are such a cutie," she said.

Paul ruffled his son's white blonde hair. "Okay, Jonathan. Tell Miss Erin goodbye. It's time for your nap," he said, his eyes shining.

"Aww, do I have to?"

"Yes, those are the rules," Paul replied, his voice soft and kind. He whistled for Moxie and the dog bounded to his feet and crouched.

Erin looked from the obedient dog to the father, a wry grin on her face. "That dog does exactly what you want, doesn't it?"

Paul smiled. "Most of the time," he said.

Spence offered Erin a hand and pulled her to her feet. She tossed a sandal in the process and Moxie caught it in mid-flight, then carried it to his owner.

Paul held out the shoe. "Sometimes, I don't even have to ask him."

Spence stepped between them and took the shoe. Erin scowled.

"We'll see you later, buddy," Spence said, patting Jonathan on the shoulder. "You too, Paul." He moved beside Erin, his presence overwhelming and annoying her.

As soon as Paul and Jonathan were out of earshot, she turned on him. "You're not subtle," she said. "What's the big idea, acting all macho like that? I'm not your property."

"Who me?" Spence wore an incredulous expression. "I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway, let's go. We've got work to do."

Erin glowered at his back all the way to the house.

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