Now, Please(12)

“Oh. Um…” I shuffled closer. I should try to help. That was a good in. I just wished I wasn’t so awkward about it.

It felt like high school all over again as I leaned over the table trying to get a peek at what he was doing. I expected him to pull the phone away from my prying eyes any moment and tell me to buzz off.

I vaguely pointed again. “Looks like you’re in that weird place between Wi-Fi and phone signal…”

Donnelley glanced up with a furrowed brow. He looked back at his phone. I was annoying him.

Hunter would pay for this.

I tried again. “The phone is barely picking up Wi-Fi from the hotel. So then it tries to switch to the phone signal, but…it looks like that’s weak here too. When it’s in that weird place when neither signal is strong enough, it’s useless.”

He nodded impatiently as irritation crossed his face again. Thankfully, this time it didn’t seem to be because of me. “I didn’t even notice. Lamebrain.”

I tried to hide my smile at the term originating decades before. I looked at my phone face. I had all kinds of service. “I thought this hotel had a booster for service.”

“It does for Verizon. I have AT&T.”

“Oh. Well, I’m all set then.” I gave him a feeble laugh, wanting to wander away. I’d not really helped, I’d overstayed my welcome, and I was terrible at small talk. But I had to hang around. This was awful.

I offered my phone with a smile that I hoped hid my gawkiness. “You can use my phone. My boss pays for service, so download whatever you want.”

His hand jerked in what looked like reflex. He paused with it nearly to my phone and looked up. “Are you sure? I just need to check a couple things. We’ve had a couple complaints with the app and I was just trying to work them out.”

“No, no—have at it.” I pushed it at him eagerly. “I’ll just be over there.” I jerked my head to the picnic table I had picked out.

“Please, sit here.” He motioned toward the seat opposite him as he grabbed the phone. “That way you can tackle me if I wander off with it.”

I glanced back at my chosen spot, blessedly free of small talk and polite interaction, but when I looked back he was already bent over my phone. My presence might’ve completely disappeared for all he seemed to notice me.

Without further hesitation, I sat. “You have the same single-minded focus as my boss.”

His thumbs flew over the screen. No comment.

With a small huff and a smile, I opened my computer, starting to relax. “You ignore me just like Hunter, too. Fabulous,” I muttered sarcastically, clicking in the wireless USB.

“Hunter…Carlisle?” Donnelley glanced up.

I let my smile grow, now in acting mode. I didn’t look up from my computer. He’d probably appreciate that. “Mr. Carlisle, yes. When he’s concentrating really hard, he might as well be deaf.”

“You called him Hunter?”

As my email pulled up, I looked up at him. “Hunter, yeah.”

“Hmm.” Donnelley pulled his computer closer. “I hadn’t realized anyone used Mr. Carlisle’s first name. The son, I mean.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m born and raised Californian and we’re more laid-back.”

Donnelley cracked a smile before straightening his back and stretching. “Got it. Maybe we won’t have as many one-star reviews on that game.”

“Which game is it?”

Donnelley passed my phone back. I saw the picture of a cartoon rat. “Oh my God—this is your game?” I knew that already, of course. I’d be a terrible researcher if I didn’t.

His eyes twinkled in delight. “Yes. I saw you already had it on your phone. And you play it.”

It was a puzzle game where the player was supposed to alter the route of the maze to get the mouse through. I’d actually found it randomly before Donnelley’s name ever came up, and had been playing it off and on since. “I play when I need to let my mind go dead.”

Donnelley clasped his hands on the table. “What did you say you did?”

“I’m an admin right now, but I majored in computer engineering. I’m Olivia. Or Livy, if you want.”

“Bruce.” He extended a large, grizzled hand with a collection of scars and old calluses. His handshake was firm, but not hard. He was probably easing up because I was a woman. And for that, I was thankful.

“Those aren’t a computer man’s hands, Bruce,” I said as I took my hand back.

“I spent my youth pushing a shovel. Had to pay the bills while I was playing with my computer.”

“Ah.” I held up my hands. “Computer girl’s hands. I can’t write worth a damn, but I type like the wind.”