Tight

“Well ... just you so far. If you don’t give me what I need, then I’ll have to get another. Which takes me to the second part of today’s training.” He set his clipboard aside and my breath stalled, my chest tightening as I prepared for the unknown.

5 months, 1 week before

The man had the art of courtship down. I wondered, as I sat at my desk and opened the box, how many times he had done this. How many women he had courted from afar, how many companions he had flown to every Caribbean island. Wondered, not for the first time, if I was a mistress and playing second fiddle to a Mrs. Jacobs.

The box was chocolate brown, with a red satin ribbon, and had arrived at the bank this morning via UPS. I’d cut open the ordinary brown box and there sat this, nestled in a sea of Styrofoam peanuts, its bow perfectly in place despite the shipping. I’d shut the box before anyone saw it and carried it into my office, kicking the door shut and bumping it with my butt until it clicked into place.

Now I pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid, with no idea of what it could contain. I laughed when I parted monogrammed tissue paper, the top item being a pair of slippers, much like the ones he had first given me, but these were embroidered with my name, in delicate script along the top. I set them aside and reached deeper, pulling out a matching robe, “Riley” also present there, on the breast pocket, a pale blue card peeking out of it. I pulled out the card, Betschart Yachts embossed in gold at the top.

You seem to be fond

of robes and slippers.

Hoping to see you

naked of both soon.

I blushed and set aside the robe, my eye catching on a gold-wrapped package at the bottom of the box. A gift inside a gift. I reached in and pulled it out, the box small and rectangular. Too big for jewelry, too small for a book. I ripped open the packaging and found a phone, a brand I’d never seen. An Iridium, black and bulky, with actual buttons instead of a touch screen. A post-it was taped to the box’s front with Call me, I’ll explain written in what I now recognized as Brett’s handwriting.

I picked up my desk phone and dialed his cell. Swiveled in the chair so that my back was to the branch and flipped the phone box over, reading its features on the back.

“Hey beautiful.” His voice was warm, the background quiet. I smiled.

“Hey. I just got a box of gifts.”

“You deserve them every day. I’ve been slacking off. Didn’t want to scare you off.” There was a smile in his words, and I laughed.

“You do know that I have a phone already.”

“And you should keep it. That one is for when you travel. It’s built for international use; it’s a satellite phone.”

“Meaning…?” Two weeks earlier, I’d have hidden my ignorance. Now, I felt at ease.

“Meaning that it’ll pick up a signal anywhere. I don’t want you to be out of touch with your friends and family.”

I blinked. It was, for a guy, surprisingly … thoughtful. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.” I had actually planned to refuse the gift. I did, after all, have my own phone. A perfectly nice iPhone, which – twenty minutes earlier – had seemed overly adequate for my limited needs.

“You’re welcome. Don’t give me too much credit. I do have ulterior motives.”

“Don’t all men?” I teased.

He laughed. “The second weekend of July, there’s a fishing event I’m attending. I’d love to take you there by boat. It’ll be in the middle of nowhere; you’ll need that phone.”

The middle of nowhere … it sounded so ominous. I’d never fully gotten over a stranded-at-sea movie I’d watched in fifth grade. “We’d boat from Fort Lauderdale?”

Another chuckle. “No, you probably don’t have enough time for that. We'd fly into Puerto Rico. Take the boat from there.”

I spun to my computer. Pulled up Google Maps. Quickly realized why boating from Fort Lauderdale would be impossible. Then I moved to my desk calendar and looked with despair at my schedule. Even nine weeks out, it was full.

“I’d have to work a full day on Friday. And be back at work on Monday,” I said glumly.

“I’ll make it work. The plane can pick you up Friday night and have you back late Sunday.”

“You sure?” I leaned back, closing the browser window. Picking up the robe, I ran my hand over the soft fleece. It would easily be the nicest thing I’d ever worn.

“Absolutely. Is it a date?”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the chair. “It’s a date.”

“Talk to you tonight?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

I didn’t realize until after I hung up the phone, a ridiculous smile still on my face, that I hadn’t thanked him for the slippers and robe. I repacked the box, tying the ribbon back into place, my bow not looking nearly as nice as the original one, and made a mental note to thank him during our phone call that night.

“Ooooh…” Tammy’s squeal could put a pig in heat. I widened my eyes at her, and she went silent, instead waving her hands in excitement. “That is so romantic!” she whispered loudly, leaning forward across the table at me.

“Good Lord, Tammy, he bought something, he didn’t slay a dragon and rescue her from a castle,” Jena grumbled, swatting my hands away from the onion ring appetizer she was refusing to share.

“Shut it, Jena. It’s romantic. When’s the last time Matt got you anything?”

Ouch. Low blow. My wide eyes turned to a warning glare, and I kicked at Tammy under the table. Matt worked on one of the Vance’s tobacco farms. They covered their bills, they didn’t spoil each other with gifts. But Jena only shrugged good-naturedly. “I’m just saying … it’s a phone. It’s not romantic. It’s random.”

“I think it’s thoughtful.” I didn’t bother pointing out the robe and slippers, which I thought were romantic, especially given our history with the items. If Jena wanted to think it was a dumb gift … whatever. She was a big girl with her own opinions, just like me.

“It’s weird. He probably just wants to control you. Be able to see who you call since his name’s on the bill. In fact … wait a minute.” She put down a half-eaten ring, and I swiped it. “Lemme see the phone?”

I raised an eyebrow at her, reaching into my bag and digging around for it. “I haven’t charged it yet. And it doesn’t have Bejeweled. I already checked.” Jena is, and she’ll let you know it early on, the county’s reigning champion at Bejeweled. We all play it; she dominates it. Her high score’s up in the twenty-million-point range.