I jolted out of my daze. “Hang on, Gillian.”
As soon as I released her, she shoved past me and charged up the sidewalk while I put on Spike’s leash. Slade bent to pick her up and then twirled her around, laughing. Her squeals of delight were loud enough to hear two states away.
Once he’d set her down, Slade waited for me while Gillian danced around him like a adoring groupie. I struggled to get a grip on the feelings roiling inside of me: guilt about the secret double salary, guilt about trying to get Slade fired, and anxiety that I didn’t have enough lavender oil to get through the day.
“Hey.” I tried to sound casual, reminding myself that I was Bird Brain to him. Nothing more.
His teeth glinted white against his tanned skin as he smiled. He reached up to pull back his hair, tying it with that stupid shoelace. “Hey, Clemons. We’ve almost survived a whole week together. We both deserve a medal.” His grin was like the sun, radiant and warm.
Immune, I told myself. You. Are. Immune.
Max flung open the door, and Gillian transferred her dancing and squealing adoration to him.
Mrs. Gonzales appeared in the doorway. “So, you all are hanging out here today?” She stepped back as we crowded into the foyer.
“Yes,” I said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Fine with me.” She stuffed papers into the briefcase hanging off her shoulder.
Slade leaned against the banister. “Trina’s in charge. Apparently I’m just the copilot.”
Mrs. Gonzales shot me a conspiratorial wink. I hoped to God Slade didn’t see it.
“Fabulous,” she said. “I’m running late. See you kids tonight!” She hugged Max and bustled away. We heard a door slam, then she flung it open again, hollering that she’d made a batch of fresh cookies.
“Those cookies are calling my name.” Slade brushed past me, the touch of his shoulder making me sniff my wrist.
“Naked party!” Gillian screeched. Before I could stop her, she’d peeled off her sundress and shot up the stairs in her swimsuit. Max followed her, giggling, with Spike in pursuit.
I followed Slade into the kitchen. He handed me a cookie, still warm from the oven.
“I wish my mom baked like this,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate chip.
“Me, too.” I took a bite and swallowed. “My mom’s a horrible cook.”
Slade cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? Mine’s okay, I guess. She’s just super healthy. We don’t have any sugar in the house. Just agave and honey.”
I remembered the horrible granola bars and was impressed he didn’t slam his mom’s cooking.
Slade slid into a kitchen chair and gestured for me to join him. “So did Gillian’s mom bribe you with cookies when she interviewed you?”
Oh grilled cheesus. The cookie suddenly tasted like dried rice sticking to my tongue. I groped for a subject change, but my mind was blank.
“Did she ask what you’d do if the house caught on fire?” He smiled, blissfully oblivious to my internal agony.
“I, um, can’t remember. There were a lot of questions.” Like how I’d deal with you, for instance.
He nodded, his smile now as blinding as a thousand suns. “Yeah, but I got the feeling Mrs. G. really wanted me to have the job.”
I was about to lose my cookies, literally. I wondered if I should go to confession and spill my guts to a priest.
Why did he keep smiling like that? It only intensified my guilt. I scowled at him, and his smile faded.
“So, uh, I read the binder last night,” he said. “Well, most of it.” He took a drink of water. “Part of it, anyway. The schedule page.”
A tiny bit of my guilt dissipated. Of course he hadn’t bothered to read the whole thing. He’d probably been having his own brand of naked party. As soon as I thought about that, I felt my face burn. It was my turn to chug water.
“So anyway, about today’s schedule.” He sounded hesitant. “Are you sure the kids will sit still for a documentary? About water conservation?”
I sat up straight, relieved to feel more of my guilt disappearing. We lived in a semi-arid climate, and the more educated people were about conserving water, the better.
“I suppose you have a better idea?” I snapped.
He blinked in surprise, then fiddled with a napkin. “Well, yeah, maybe. I was thinking since it’s going to be so hot today we could take them swimming.” He grinned. “Gilly’s already dressed for it.”
Visions filled my mind, of me standing in the shallow pool at my lesson, tentatively blowing bubbles in the water. Other images, too, which I couldn’t allow to distract me.
“I don’t think the kids can swim very well.” I stated this with as much authority as I could muster.