The Luck of the Paw (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 9) Page 6

  “And when the real whining will start. You’ll still love me when I turn into a crybaby author, right?”

  He smiled. “I will. But while you’re writing and swearing at your computer, I might spend some extra time out in the forest with the chainsaw, chopping firewood.”

  “That’s probably not a bad idea.”

  Mia drove back to Alpine Grove and checked into the H12 motel. It was nicer than a Motel 6, but not by much. At least it had a mini-fridge, so that was something. The ugly plaid bedspreads were not appealing, but the room did have a decent shower. After a long day that included changing a tire, the warm water was welcome.

  After she’d cleaned up, Mia spread out her meager wardrobe options on one of the beds. Almost everything she owned was filthy. A couple of the Motel 6s had laundry facilities, but most of them didn’t. Once she was settled somewhere, now that she wasn’t broke, she probably should invest in some new clothes. Before she left, it didn’t seem worth it because it would be more stuff to pack. Plus, it wasn’t like she was going to dress up for a road trip.

  She found an iron in the closet and pressed an incredibly wrinkled skirt and blouse that she’d used for her job interview at Round House Distributing. It had been a while since they’d seen the light of day and the fabric looked like it had been dropped in a river and crumpled up into a little ball. Ironing had been problematic in the trailer and it wasn’t exactly on her list of favorite things to do. But with more space and an actual ironing board, it was oddly relaxing to methodically remove the deeply entrenched wrinkles.

  By the time she finished ironing and had gotten dressed, she had just enough time to walk over to the restaurant. It was a beautiful, crisp fall evening and leaves fluttered along the sidewalk in front of her. When she reached the restaurant, Mia opened the door and walked inside. A man with short brown hair dressed in a suit was deep in conversation with the hostess.

  The blonde woman gestured toward the room, “Larry, please go back to your table. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She turned and smiled at Mia with obvious relief as the man walked away from the hostess stand toward the dining room. “Welcome!”

  Mia smiled. “I’m meeting someone named Christ.”

  “Like Jesus? Wait. What? What did you say?”

  “I mean Chris…Chris Blanchard.”

  “He’s right over there.” The woman pointed toward a table near a large stone fireplace in the dining room. The hostess was undoubtedly relieved that Mia wasn’t having some type of funky religious experience right here in the middle of her restaurant.

  Mia thanked her and walked away. Thank goodness the restaurant was dimly lit and the whole world couldn’t tell she was blushing like a complete idiot. The air was scented with mouth-watering Italian spices, tomato sauce, and garlic. Mia’s stomach growled. If the food tasted as good as this place smelled, she was in for a delicious dinner.

  Chris was studying the menu and glanced over at her as she walked up to the table. He stood up, looking startled. “Mia! You look…wow…really pretty.”

  Mia settled into her seat. It would be a novelty to eat without Gizmo panting on her for a change. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Chris handed her a menu. “This whole thing is in Italian and I’m trying to figure it out.”

  “Well, I don’t speak the language either, so I can’t hurt you.”

  Chris glanced up from the menu with a quizzical expression. “Okay.”

  “Help! I mean help.” Mia put her face in her palms, rubbed her eyes, and then looked up. “I’m sorry. By now, you must think I’m a real nut job.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Mia smiled and pointed at the menu. “I know what rigatoni and gorgonzola are. Pasta and cheese sounds good. I bet it’s a lot better than the stuff in the blue box.”

  “No doubt. Here’s something with spaghetti. I know what that is.” He leaned across the table. “I hate asking people to translate in a place like this because it makes me feel stupid and unsophisticated.”

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one who suffers from waiter fear.”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  Mia laughed and put down her menu. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m going with the pasta-and-cheese thing.”

  They ordered by pointing at items on the menu, rather than actually attempting to speak Italian. Chris said, “I guess since you made it here, you found a place to stay.”

  “Yes, and the woman at the boarding kennel was just as nice as you said she’d be. I miss Gizmo, but it makes me feel better knowing he’s in good hands. And it feels so luxurious having a motel room all to myself.”

  He took a sip of water. “I guess you’ve been traveling for a while?”

  “A couple of weeks. It’s fun, but all the draining is tiring.”

  “Driving?”

  “Yes. Sorry…again.” Mia didn’t want to talk about the fact she had no idea where she was going next. People didn’t tend to take trips to nowhere. Unless of course they had oodles of time and money because they’d just won the lottery. “So I was wondering why you were crawling around a hillside in Alpine Grove.”

  Chris pulled off his glasses and set them on the table. “I was so surprised to find you there, I guess I forgot to say. I was looking at the house site.”

  “Are you building a house? That’s a beautiful spot!”

  “I know, but it’s not for me. It’s for a client. I’m an architect.”

  Mia took a drink of water to stall for time, suddenly self-conscious about her lack of career. If she acted interested, maybe he wouldn’t ask what she did. “So you said you flew to San Francisco. Is that where you live?”

  “Near there, in Oakland. I work for a firm downtown. What do you do?”

  The waitress arrived with their salads, sparing Mia the need to divulge the fact that she was unemployed. She jabbed at a leaf. “Do you like being an architect?”

  He looked down as he attempted to skewer a cherry tomato. “Yes, for the most part. I’d better love it, after all the higher education I endured to get my degree.”

  “Where did you go to college?”

  “I got a BA, then a Masters in Architecture at UC Berkley. I’ve been working at the same place for six years now, but sometimes it feels like I’ve been there forever.”

  Mia chewed her lettuce. This was getting more interesting. She had lots of experience with job dissatisfaction. “So are you saying you don’t like your job?”

  “No, that’s not it exactly. I mean, I love architecture. It’s fascinating, and I enjoy seeing a project come from nothing but an idea and turn into a major part of people’s lives, like their home or office. But the firm I work for, well, I like that a lot less. And being here has made me wish that I didn’t have such a long commute too.”

  “The daily grind can be hard.”

  “I also wasn’t enjoying the types of projects I was working on, which is why I’m here. The firm has taken on a bunch of work doing large-scale retail buildings, but what I’m doing here is a small single-family residential project, which is the type of work I prefer.” He leaned forward. “You didn’t say what you do.”

  Mia held her fork in mid-air. Crap. He remembered. “I’m in between jobs.”

  “Is that why you’re moving?”

  “Yes.” Mia stuffed the lettuce into her mouth. Indirectly. Finding a job was part of the process of maybe finding some type of life.

  “Where are you moving to?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  Chris leaned back in his chair. “So you’re just traveling? Wow, that’s so cool. I’m envious. Some days, I’d love to just walk into my boss’s office and say ‘take this job and shove it,’ but I can’t.”

  Mia tried not to laugh out loud. She’d had almost the exact same thought when she realized she could quit. “I didn’t say those words, but I can tell you that the day I gave my notice was a very happy day.”

  “What are you going to do next
?”

  “I suppose in elementary school when people asked you what you were going to be when you grew up, you said, ‘an architect,’ didn’t you?”

  “Yes. What did you say?”

  “Catwoman, but it didn’t work out.”

  Chris laughed. “Too bad. You’d look great in that outfit.”

  “As you know, I am a fan of basic black.”

  The waitress brought their main dishes and Mia dug into her pasta. It was delicious. Chris was obviously enjoying his spaghetti dish too. He held up a forkful. “Do you want to try this? It’s really good.”

  “Sure. I can give you some of my fancy mac and cheese too.”

  They spooned some pasta onto bread plates and exchanged them. She smiled. “This is good. It’s different than plain old spaghetti with sauce from a jar.”

  “I know.”

  “What are the little things in there?”

  “I have no idea. It’s yummy though.”

  Considering she’d had to divulge her unfortunate state of unemployment, Mia was enjoying herself. The food was excellent and Chris was actually funny in a self-effacing way. It was nice to find someone who wasn’t obsessed with his job, for a change. Everyone at Round House Distributing had always been so serious about work. And they were dealing with carrots, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t exactly rocket science or related to life-and-death situations.

  Chris set his plate aside, “I’m full. Do you want the rest of mine?”

  Mia gave him a “pass it over here” gesture. “Sure. That stuff is great.”

  He ordered a cup of coffee while Mia finished off the spaghetti. “Do you want coffee too?”

  “No thanks.” Mia leaned back. “I can’t remember when I’ve eaten that much. Because of Gizmo, I’ve been eating on the run or skipping meals. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything all day except some crackers in the car.”

  “No wonder you were hungry.” He took a sip of coffee. “I want to apologize for what I said earlier. I don’t think you look like Elvira.”

  “Well, I know I did then. It’s no big deal.” Mia put her hand to her stomach. All of a sudden, her digestive system was staging a major rebellion. “I, uh, need to…ladies broom!”

  Chris stood up as Mia launched from the table toward the rest rooms at the back of the restaurant.

  Mia barely made it into a stall before losing the contents of her stomach. The last time she’d felt like this was when she was fifteen and Mom had made that special dinner for Howard. At the time, she’d been convinced that her mother had tried to poison her so Mia would get out of the way and Mom would have more “special time” alone with Howard.

  Mia sat on the floor and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. She’d been having a good time too. Presumably, Chris wasn’t trying to kill her. And if by some miracle, he didn’t think she was weird before, he certainly did now.

  A few minutes later, Mia opened her eyes at a knock on the bathroom stall door. The heels that belonged to the hostess were in front of the stall. “Are you all right in there?”

  Mia moaned as she wiped her mouth and stood up. “Be right out.” She rested her hand on the wall to steady herself and flushed the toilet. This was probably what dying felt like. She slid the latch and opened the door.

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness—you look terrible! Should I call 911?”

  Mia shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I think dinner disagreed with me. It’s not your foot…fault.”

  “Your boyfriend is outside the door. He sent me in here to check on you because he’s very worried.”

  “Not my boyfriend.” Mia staggered to the exit, grabbed the handle, and opened the door. Chris was standing outside, his eyes even rounder than usual. He handed Mia her purse. “Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?”

  Mia nodded, afraid to speak. Being upright was causing her stomach to flop around again. Chris put his arm around her shoulders while Mia focused all her energy on not throwing up in front of an entire restaurant full of people. That was a new level of humiliation she could do without.

  The hostess followed them toward the front door. “Please come again!”

  Outside the restaurant, Mia took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. It was a relief to be away from the scents of food.

  Chris said, “Hold on for a second. You’re shaking.” He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

  Mia mumbled her thanks as they continued down the street toward the H12.

  Chris squeezed her shoulders slightly and bent to look at her face. “Do you need to rest? You’re as white as a ghost.”

  “First Elvira, now Casper. Nice.”

  “That’s not what I meant. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. All of a sudden, I felt bad. Really, really bad. It was like something that happened a long time ago when I got food poisoning from something my mom made.”

  “What was it?”

  “Oysters. It was this special meal and I ruined it for her.” Mia glanced up at him. “I didn’t do it on purpose, although she thought I did.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. Are you allergic to oysters?”

  “I don’t know. I never had them again. Just the thought makes my stomach turn.” Mia waved her hand weakly. “Let’s not talk about it.”

  “While I was sitting at the table waiting for you, I paid for dinner and the waitress asked me about the meal. She said that the spaghetti allo scoglio…um, I’m probably saying that wrong, but whatever it is…the sauce was made from a mixture of shellfish.”

  “I’m so sorry about this. I think I’ll feel better if I lie down.”

  “We’re almost there. Which room are you in?”

  “Twelve. On the end.” She pointed toward the motel. “My car is out front.”

  They walked through the parking lot and stood in front of the door. Mia rummaged through her purse for the key and turned to Chris. “Thanks for dinner. And sorry again.”

  Chris angled his head to examine her face. “You’re so pale. If you’re having some type of serious allergic reaction, I should take you to the hospital.”

  “Even though I feel like I want to die, if it’s like the oysters, I’ll be okay by tomorrow.” Mia leaned on the door heavily. “I think I need to go to the bathroom again, so um, thanks, but I really have to go now.”

  Chris pushed the door open and followed her into the room. “I think I should keep an eye on you.”

  “Whatever you want. I’ll be right back.” Mia scampered off to the bathroom, slammed the door, and stood motionless, trying to determine what her insides were going to do next. This was so incredibly embarrassing. She slid down to the floor and closed her eyes. After a few moments, it seemed like her stomach had calmed down a little. Realistically, after the episode in the ladies room, there couldn’t be much left in her stomach anymore. She took a deep breath, stood up, and rinsed her mouth out with some toothpaste. She wasn’t exactly minty fresh, but at least she felt a little bit less revolting.

  When she opened the door, Chris was sitting hunched over at the desk with his hands clasped in front of him between his knees. He jumped up. “Are you okay? I really think you should go to a doctor.”

  Mia made her way over to the bed. “I just need to lie down.” She crawled onto the bed, rolled onto her back, and put her arm over her eyes. Being horizontal was definitely better.

  The bed moved and Mia moved her arm, glancing at Chris. “What are you doing?”

  “Keeping an eye on you, remember?”

  “That sounds boring.”

  “It’s okay.” He reached across her and grabbed a book from the nightstand. “I’ll read this.”

  “Do you read romance novels?”

  “Not usually. What’s it about?”

  “This woman is an art dealer who has nightmares from something bad that happened in her childhood. She goes back to her hometown and meets a guy who undoubtedly will help her solve the mystery.
I’m not sure, since I’m not done with it.”

  He held the book out to her with his finger marking a page. “Is this where you were.”

  Mia leaned to look. “I think so.”

  Chris got up, threw the bedspread over Mia, and tucked her in. He crawled back onto the bed next to her and put his arm around her, so her head was resting on his chest. “Close your eyes and relax.”

  Mia snuggled into the covers next to him, hoping that the sick, shaky feeling in her stomach would subside. Chris began reading the novel out loud. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of his voice, which was soothing and resonant. She hadn’t noticed it when she was talking to him before, but Chris had a great radio voice, so it was like listening to an audiobook.

  It was probably wrong to be curled up with a guy she hardly knew like this, but at the moment, she felt too awful to care. As her system slowly recovered from the indignities committed against it, Mia relaxed and focused on the rhythm and intonation of Chris’s voice as he read.

  Later, Mia jerked awake, momentarily disoriented. Where was she? The light was still on and Chris had obviously fallen asleep next to her. He groaned, sat up straighter, and gazed down into her face. “I’m so glad you’re still alive. I didn’t do the greatest job of keeping an eye on you.”

  Mia moved to sit up. “I think I’m going to live. Thanks for reading to me.”

  “That’s a pretty good story. You’ll have to let me know what happens when you finish it.”

  “I will.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s kind of late. I’m sorry I got so sick and kept you here. At least I didn’t barf on you.”

  He turned to look at her. “You don’t need to keep apologizing. I had a great time. Well, not the part where you got sick, but I enjoyed having dinner with you. And just hanging out reading the romance book was nice too.”

  “Is your dog okay back in your room? Gizmo would have eaten half the furniture by now.”

  “Lulu has a little sky kennel with a bed it in that she loves. I fed her dinner and I’m sure she’s completely crashed out. She’s slowed down as she’s gotten older.”