“The incident has been blown way out of proportion by my grandma.”
Jake looked up from his hands, the copper in his eyes shining with . . . something. Inappropriate glee? “So what’d you say?”
She shrugged sheepishly, examined the ice bobbing in her drink for a moment. “I called him an idiot cop. Which probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I could have found my wallet, but my wallet was being burned in the fire at my office at the time, apparently. And then . . . I refused to give him my name.”
Jake nodded thoughtfully, seemed to mull it over. “Why? Was he one of your perverts or something?”
Oh, hardy har. Squirming a bit, she thought about exactly why she had done it, and winced. “Because he was bothering me,” she finally muttered, realizing how ridiculous she sounded, especially since it was the God’s honest truth. She was such an idiot.
To confirm it, Jake shook his head in disbelief. “So what did he say?”
“He called me a smartass and read me my rights.”
Jake made a sound as if he were choking, then smiled with far too much satisfaction.
“Is that a smirk?” she asked curiously. “Are you smirking?”
“Damn straight it’s a smirk,” he cheerfully admitted. “So did you start the fire, too?”
“No! I was in jail, remember? There is no possible way I could have started it!”
“So let me see if I have this,” he said, drawing to his full height and putting his hands on his hips. “You’re just a smartass, but not an arsonist, right?” Then he laughed at his lame little joke and started to gather his things. “Probably some wiring gone bad. Happens all the time.”
“See? That’s exactly what I was thinking.” she said, nodding emphatically. “Wiring! Old building, old wires—but a big wire, right? I mean, it would be almost impossible for something like, say, an unattended coffeepot to do it . . . right?”
He paused, gave her a look. “Don’t tell me you left the coffeepot on.”
Robin was on her feet before she knew it, one hand wildly gesturing, the other gripping her glass tightly. “I don’t know!” she cried helplessly. “I think I unplugged it, but I don’t know for sure! Oh man, could one little coffeepot do that? It was an accident! I had just come back from the ranch, and my dad told me he was dying, and then told me I was pretty useless to him, and I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t work, and I made a pot of coffee. But what if it was me? Can they arrest me for that?”
Jake shrugged. “Who knows with these idiot cops?
“Touché.” Robin groaned.
Jake smiled, nodded at the glass she was holding. “You’re sloshing it around,” he said, nodding to several large wet splotches on the tiled floor.
Robin sat down.
“That’s rough about your dad.”
“Yeah,” she said wearily. “It was just such a shock. He has always been so . . . so strong,” she said.
“What does he do?”
“What does he do? Everything . . .”
Amazing, Robin later thought, how easily she began to talk about something as complicated as Dad. Jake was a good listener, seemed interested in what she was saying, and really, the whole thing just sort of spilled out of her. For some reason, she didn’t stop with her arrest, she even gave him the humiliating news of her demotion and new status as Queen of Bubble Wrap.
By the time she had finished spilling her guts, she was feeling exhausted and a little loopy from the vodka, and was actually laughing about the absurdity of her new job. “Bubble wrap, can you imagine? Me?”
“Why not?” he asked.
Robin snorted. “In case you haven’t notice, I’m not exactly a Styrofoam products kind of person.”
“I don’t see why not,” Jake said with a shrug. “Someone’s got to make it. They could call you Bubbles?”
“Not funny.”
“Okay. How about Peanut?”
He was playing with her. “How about boss?” she said cheekily.
Jake chuckled, folded his, arms across his chest. “How about convict?”
“How about fired?”
“Uppity?”
“Unpaid contractor?”
“Maybe,” he said, nodding, his gaze drifting to her bare middle.
“You’re a nice guy, Jake,” she said with a crooked smile. “You didn’t have to listen to my wretched life.”
“Oh, I bet you do okay most of the time, boss. Doesn’t look like you’re hurting.”
She was about to answer that looks weren’t everything when Jake’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number display. “I’d better be going,” he said and stuffed the cell down inside his backpack without bothering to answer it.
Robin stood as he hoisted his backpack and pulled the do-rag from his pocket, and followed him to the back door. He paused there, smiled at her with unexpected warmth. “My advice?” he said, pushing the door open. “Don’t get out of bed.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
“No. I just think you should leave the unsuspecting public alone for a while.”