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A warmth spread through my chest to hear the boy's laugh but also to see Adam smiling so much. I'd never seen him smile all that much…except for when he and I were bickering.
"I'm glad to see you two getting along so well," I told them. "Wolfgang, how was your first night with Adam?"
"I got to sleep in a tent," he informed me happily. "Did you know that Uncle Adam plays hockey?"
"I did," I said, nodding my head. I had actually gone to one of his games because he'd talked Brian into playing with him, which I wasn’t sure why he thought would be a good idea. Brian was a runner like myself but otherwise wasn't horribly athletic. He got out on the ice with Adam and his other teammates, and the first time somebody elbowed him, he threatened to sue them. We did not return after that, but from what I'd heard about Adam, he was a good player.
"Yeah, he says he'll teach me," Wolfgang said excitedly.
"Oh, did he now?" I replied, looking pointedly at Adam.
"What? " Adam asked, oblivious.
"Don't you think hockey is a little extreme?" I asked in a quiet voice, hoping that Wolfgang didn't hear me.
"Oh, come on now, don't start sounding like one of those crunchy granola moms," he teased, and I instantly bristled.
"What would you know about crunchy granola moms? And what even is that?" I asked incredulously.
"A mom with crunchy granola?" Wolfgang offered, then added, "That sounds good." He rubbed his stomach absentmindedly.
Adam looked concerned, "I'm sorry, buddy, I told you we would be quick in here, and it's been longer than that. Why don't you go up to Miss Nancy's desk—she's always got snacks in her desk drawer. I bet you she'll give you whatever you want," he smiled to Wolfgang.
Wolfgang happily slid off the table and headed for the door, stopping next to me to ask, "Would you like a snack, too, Rea?"
He really was a naturally sweet child. I smiled down at him. "No, but thank you."
Wolfgang left the office, heading back towards Nancy's desk, and I turned to face Adam, who was eyeballing the folder clutched in my hand.
"Don't tell me that's the routine stuff you were talking about," he said, waving a finger at the folder.
"It is actually. I spent all morning working on it," I said, slapping it down onto the desk and enjoying the thud it made when it hit the wood. That was the sound of productivity, and there was a lot of good information in there—I felt very accomplished.
He flipped through the folder's contents with widening eyes and a nervous smile frozen in place, glancing up at me periodically until I couldn't take it anymore. "For God's sake, just spit it out. I know you want to say something. Do you have a problem with all the research that I've done for you?"
He was quiet for a moment before he said, "No, no, this is great. It's just…there's so much of it," he drew out.
"Yeah, well, it's kind of a big deal taking care of a kid. There's a lot of information to take in," I defended.
"I do appreciate all the color coding and highlighting. Is this a key at the beginning outlining the order of importance by color?" He asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah. Yellow is just stuff that you might need to know down the line. Green is stuff that you would want to implement within the next few months. And pink is need to know information for right this second," I explained, much to his amusement.
He looked up at me with a grin and didn't say anything at first. "What?" I snapped at him. "Quit looking at me like that, I'm trying to help you out here."
He shook his head, laughing. "I know, and I really do appreciate it. I just have to ask: you have, like, a specific pair of underwear for each day of the week, don't you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I challenged but immediately regretted the words when I saw the heat in his eyes. He'd sobered somewhat and took advantage of that opportunity to look me over for the first time, and as long as I could remember, I'd never felt so nervous standing in front of a man.
In high school, and even in college some, I had been accused by some of being arrogant. But that wasn't the case. I didn't think I was any better than anybody else. But I had had it drilled into my head by my parents, and my grandmother especially, that constantly comparing myself to others was a waste of time.
My grandmother was always quick to tell me that everybody had their own journey, so worrying about not living like somebody else, or acting like somebody else, would just get in the way of me fulfilling my life's work. I didn't often find myself nervous with people, and it had paid off in droves in my job. But standing there before Adam, I did feel nervous. This man knew exactly what I looked like beneath my sensible suit, and I knew exactly what he looked like beneath his slacks and button-down. He'd definitely liked what he had seen before, so why was I so nervous now?
The teasing had gone out of his voice when he told me, "I really do appreciate you doing this for me, Reagan."
I dared to look at him and instantly regretted it when I saw how earnest his expression was.
Dammit. Do not fall for the charms of this man. He'll say something sweet one moment, and then start irritating you the next. Remember that, my internal voice warned.
