Shacking Up(24)

"She's pretty harmless if you know how to handle her."

"I've never held a tarantula."

"Well we'll have to change that, won't we?" Bancroft gives me a warm smile that makes me all melty and blushy-beyond the fever I'm still rocking, anyway. 

"So you're okay with-" Armstrong makes hands gestures to go with his pinched expression. "-odd animals," he finally finishes.

"I wouldn't call them odd, they're just a little unconventional. I volunteered at an animal sanctuary when I was in high school."

"Really? How would that benefit your résumé?" Armstrong asks.

"It didn't. I volunteered because I wanted to." And also so I wouldn't have to spend my weekends and afternoons at my father's office, filing papers or editing the pamphlet for his penis-inflating prescriptions.

Bancroft taps the table and leans in closer. "Ruby, how would you feel about taking care of Francesca and Tiny?"

"Francesca's the ferret, isn't she?" I can feel my nose wrinkle with my smile. I try to tone it down. My father always told me it makes me look childish and silly.

Bancroft's cheeks turn pink and he returns my grin. "She is. However I regret to inform you that I did not have the pleasure of naming her, as fitting as it may be."

"I can't wait to meet her." I'm not saying this just to suck up, I'm genuinely enthusiastic about it, although I'm sure it's helping my case.

Bancroft looks from me to Amie and back. He smooths out the napkin on the table again. I wonder if it's an unconscious reaction. Like when I'm concentrating really hard sometimes my tongue peeks out of the corner of my mouth. It's a little embarrassing. When I got caught doing it as a kid my dad would use bitters to make me retract it. It worked until I started to like the taste.

"You know, it might be nice to have someone around for Francesca on a more regular basis," Bancroft says.

"I can alternate days with Amie if you think that would be better for Francesca. She'll need quite a bit of care, won't she?"

"She will." Bancroft is still playing with his napkin. "But I was thinking about something a little more . . . involved."

"Involved?" Amie's plan might just be working.

"Well, you need a place to stay and I need someone to take care of my pets. It would be much better for Francesca to have someone there all the time, that way I'm guaranteed she'll have playtime."

The way he says playtime does interesting things below the waist. Now I'm hot not just because of the fever, but because I'm imagining what playtime might look like with him. Which I probably should stop doing if this conversation is going in the direction I think it is. Lusting after my potential employer/temporary landlord is not recommended.

"What a great idea!" Amie claps her hands. "Isn't that a great idea?"

"You want Ruby to move into your apartment to take care of your pets?" Armstrong's expression reflects his confusion.

"Would that work for you?" Bancroft asks me.

Score. I blink innocently. "If you think it would be helpful."

"Immensely." He smiles again. It's a little nervous, which is understandable. He doesn't know me and he's about to let me move into his place and take care of his pets for more than a month. But, lord almighty, that smile is killer.

"I'll be gone for five weeks. Is that reasonable for you? It should help with the apartment issue?"

"Definitely."

"Excellent. It's settled then." He leans back in his chair, still grinning. "You'll move in."

Mission Don't End Up Living in a Box complete.




       
         
       
        




Chapter 6: Movin' On Up


RUBY

Two days later my belongings are packed into a pitifully small pile of boxes and carted down to the lobby-thank God the elevator is working today-where Armstrong and Bancroft are waiting to load them into the truck.

That's right. Bancroft drives a truck. It's so not highbrow at all. It makes him even sexier. And it's not even a rental, which is practically unheard of in New York. It's a nice truck, one of those limited edition ones with all the upgrades, but it's still a truck and very un –trust fund of him. I can understand why he wouldn't want to get rid of it, however impractical it may be.

What's also sexy is the way the muscles in his arms flex every time he picks up another one of the boxes and carries it out the door. He's wearing a Harvard T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The only thing that sort of ruins the sexy a bit are his socks. They're white and reach his shins. If he could just take them off, or maybe trade them for a pair of ankle socks, then he'd be perfect.