Head Over Heels

Part 6

Nicci was nervous ... and excited as she stepped into the foyer. Normally, she never really cared or gave too much thought about what someone would think about her house and its decorations. She rarely had guests, her mother Nicci's only regular visitor. Nicci's mother found her house to be perfectly acceptable in style and function. That was probably because Nicci's townhome looked like a miniature version of Bianca's home. The only difference was that the townhome was overrun with frills and flowers, where her mother's home was clean lines and no-frills. Nicci was sure that everyone believed her home would be filled with gray minimalist furniture with steel accents, instead of the distressed white wood and wicker furniture that looked like it came directly out of a shabby chic catalog. She could almost hear what he was thinking.

"This is ... nice," he said with some hesitancy.

"That was surprisingly ... nice of you to say," she knew she sounded crabby, but she didn't care. She felt vulnerable.

"Let's face it none of this looks like what I know of you,"

"As I recall stating early, you really don't know me. All I am to you is someone with a great arm if substandard aim... And you may know a little about my inability to cook." The last said, while her eyes focused on anything but his face.

"That isn't all I know, and your aim is pretty good," he rubbed his shoulder as if that was proof. "And you are right your cooking is some crap." He smiled.

"Umm, thanks, but I was aiming for your head, and my cooking is not that bad. You have never had anything I've made so you really don't know how well I cook."

"I've seen it, remember?" Yeats leaned his hip on the arm of her couch that was overflowing with lace, crocheted, and floral printed pillows."But if you're saying I'm wrong, prove it." His eyes challenging. "And I am hungry ... I haven't had breakfast," his slowly spoken words holding a double meaning that Nicci couldn't help but understand. She blushed and was perplexed. Flirting was not worth dying over, and she was confident that her cooking could kill even if she was trying to save face by saying her food was edible.

"You want me to cook for you?" Nicci tried to suspend her disbelief. She didn't know what she expected when he came into her house, but Yeats wanting her to cook had blindsided her.

"Sure, and while you try to impress me with your mastery of breakfast cuisine, I thought we could talk about the interview you promised me." Yeats seemed to suck up all the air in the room. His presence making her living room feel like it was two times smaller. Nicci was overwhelmed.

"Yeah, about your interview, I'm still going to get it for you. I just had forgotten that I was on administrative leave and that his assistance is a harpy, right now I can't help you with anything. My hands are tied." She shrugged her shoulders apologetically.

"Actually, you would be helping yourself, I could just call the agent that is working with your client while you are on ... vacation. But I figured you would want to try and get your wallet back." He apparently didn't like her explanation.

She was starting to see red. "Listen, this isn't about my wallet. This is about your interview, and I can get it for you. The agent that is working with my client now won't give you the time of day. My throwing the shoe didn't just hurt my career, but yours as well. People aren't taking you seriously because I didn't. So if we want to get out of this hole we dug ourselves into, we have to work together." Nicci said the last as she toed off her sneakers.

"You aren't what I expected," his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"What did you expect," she came and set down in the chair opposite the couch, hoping that he wouldn't make any references to her anger issues.