“That was nice of you, but you probably should have checked with me before coming down to the job site.”
“Oh,” she asked, looking curiously at Robin. “I just thought you might need a break and a chance to eat before we hooked up later.”
Hooked up later? Robin frowned at Jake’s back, grabbed one pink flamingo and stuffed it under her arm. Jake took the insulated bag from Lindy, clasped her elbow, and turned her away from the truck and Robin. As Lindy smiled adoringly up at him, Robin grabbed another flamingo and started for the door. She could be such a dolt sometimes. She glanced back to see if Jake was coming or making out with Lollipop Lindy behind the garage, and in the course of doing so, she collided head-on with Evan, who stepped out the door at the precise moment she was stepping in.
One flamingo fell to the ground.
“Oops . . . are you all right?” he asked, catching her elbow.
“I’m fine. But what are you doing here?”
Evan stooped to get the dropped flamingo. “I’m happy to see you, too,” Evan said with a wry smile and handed her the flamingo. “And I’m here because we’ve got work to do, kiddo. What are these?”
“Well . . . they’re pink flamingos.” Obviously. She stepped past Evan into the house and on to the dining area, where she deposited the two flamingos against the wall.
“Why?” Evan asked, following behind.
“Why what?” Robin tossed her kate spade bag onto a chair.
“Why the pink flamingos?”
“I am thinking of getting a pool,” Robin said, and before he could question her endlessly about that, she marched to her computer, hit a button, and watched her e-mail pop up. Four messages. One from Darren at Atlantic (Hope you’re okay!!), one from Bob (Was it something I said?), and two from Lucy (1. Insurance guys; and 2. Re: Insurance guys).
“Did you look over those accounts?” Evan asked, pink flamingo in hand.
“Yes. And I made several attempts to speak to those accounts, and I am dying for someone to clue me in on what sort of name is Eldagirt Wirt—”
The smell of fried chicken interrupted her train of thought. Jake had strolled in, the insulated meals-on-wheels delivery in hand. Robin looked back to her papers. “Are we still on to meet with the insurance guys?” she asked Evan.
“As a matter of fact, I talked to the agent earlier—it looks like it was probably faulty wiring.”
That momentarily drew Robin’s attention from the smell of fried chicken. “Faulty wiring,” she repeated, thinking it was a trap to get her to admit she’d left the coffee pot on.
“A short in the alarm system.”
“Not arson?”
Evan chuckled. “No, not arson.”
Flooded with relief, Robin instantly, unthinkingly, looked at Jake. He gave her a thumbs-up behind Evan’s back and flashed a smiled that raced right down to her toes.
“—probably ten months or so before the office is inhabitable again.” Evan was still talking, Robin realized. “They’ll talk to us about it. But we’re covered and I let your dad know.”
Well, wasn’t that cozy, Evan reporting to her father. Perhaps he mentioned to Dad that he got her drunk on very expensive wine last evening and then had sex with her. Perhaps Dad and Evan toasted his success over the phone.
“I asked Lucy to make the arrangements for our travel to Minot,” Evan blithely mentioned.
Robin paused. She looked up at him. “Excuse me?”
Evan paused in his casual perusal of the pink flamingo. “You don’t think we are going to acquire a company over the phone, do you?”
“We?” she said, stealing another glimpse of Jake, who had, thankfully, put the stupid lunch bag in his backpack and resumed work.
“Yes, we,” Evan said, looking at Jake, too. “I’m not going to leave you hanging, Robbie. Of course I am going to go with you. At least to Minot.”
Oh no. That was much, muchmuchmuch too convenient. “Thanks, but I prefer to do this on my own.”
“Robin—”
“Evan, if you want me to learn, shouldn’t I just jump in and do it?”
“Maybe I need to remind you that I tried to let you do it before, and now Aaron is holding me responsible for that little Atlantic deal you cooked up. Face it, Robin, you could stand a little guidance, and your father has charged me with giving it to you. It’s just to Minot, so don’t get your panties in a twist. Once I show you how to handle this sort of thing, I’ll go on to New York and you can go to Burdette and try your hand with Ms. Wirt.”
Robin’s face was flaming—she was certain Jake thought her a complete boob now, thanks to Evan.
“I told Lucy to set something up for next week. In the meantime, why don’t you try and get Ms. Wirt on the phone?”
Oh, brilliant idea! Why hadn’t she thought of that before?