The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

29. Brenna

29

brENNA

A nd another one bites the dust. I flex my sore fingers as we exit the climbing gym. I’ll be voting “no” on rock climbing as a hobby. Am I glad it did it once? Sure. But that’s quite enough for me.

“Be honest. On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the most fun you’ve ever had and one being you’d rather be in the hospital with appendicitis, how would you rate that experience?”

Zach’s pithy question makes a laugh burst out of me. “Um, maybe around a four?”

“That’s higher than I thought you’d say,” he admits with a grin.

My smile morphs into a chagrined grimace. “Was it that obvious I wasn’t enjoying myself?” I thought I was doing a pretty good job keeping my distaste to myself.

“You were a trouper,” he says reassuringly. “I mean, you didn’t even complain. I could just tell it wasn’t your thing.”

“It really wasn’t.” The heights, the constant threat of falling even though I had a harness attached to me at all times, the realization of how weak my arms are…none of it appealed. “You seemed like you were having a good time, though.” And it looked like it came naturally to him. The one part of the experience I definitely did enjoy was watching the muscles in his arms bunching and flexing as he pulled himself up those walls.

“Meh. I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would, to be honest.”

“Why not?” We come to a stop between his truck and my car. The temperature is nice today, a balmy sixty-five degrees after a full week of fifty as the high. The sun is out, gently warming my shoulders through my long-sleeved T-shirt.

He shrugs. “I think it would get boring pretty quick. Maybe if you traveled to try different walls and actual outdoor rocks but…I don’t know, it just doesn’t sound appealing long-term.”

I nod. That makes sense to me.

He leans back against his truck and tucks his hands in his pockets. “So that means the ball is in your court now, right? It’s your turn to choose another hobby for us to try.”

Thankfully, I’m prepared for this, having thought about it extensively over the last few days. “How do you feel about puzzles?”

“Fine? We did pretty well with the puzzle event at Thanksgiving,” he says with a chuckle.

“Well, that’s what I’m choosing, specifically jigsaw puzzles. I ordered some thousand-piece ones, and the tracking number shows them arriving on Thursday. You want to come to my place that evening and we can puzzle and eat snacks?”

“You had me at snacks. Can I bring anything?”

“Nope, I’ll take care of everything.” He paid for my entry into the climbing gym today despite my protests, saying he owed me since I bought the painting supplies, but I know how much I spent on those things, and it was definitely less than he spent today because I never go into craft stores without a coupon.

Zach looks at me through narrowed eyes as if hearing my thoughts but acquiesces with a nod. “If you say so. What time?”

“Six?”

He gives me a thumbs-up. “I’ll be there.”

Then we just stand there as I debate the proper way to tell him goodbye. Normally, I’d hug a friend while bidding them farewell, but all my good friends are female. And it feels like a bad idea to touch him after our weird not-kiss. His eyes are on me, roving my face, and he seems content to watch me as I work through this internal struggle, making no move to leave.

Finally, after probably a full thirty seconds—or was it an hour? It’s difficult to say—I give him an awkward wave and look away, reaching for the door handle of my car.

“Bye, see you Thursday,” I say while tugging firmly on the handle which refuses to engage. It seems I haven’t unlocked it yet. My cheeks grow pink as I fish in my pocket for my keys and click the fob. “Okay, well, bye.”

I slide in the seat and chance a glance up at him. He’s still watching me with a soft, amused smile that you would only bestow on someone you’re genuinely fond of. He waves and says “’Bye Brenna,” just before I close the door.

The days leading up to Thursday drag by. I’ve put in what feels like a million applications, widening my search to include positions in any kind of law firm, not just corporate. But so far, I haven’t received any interview requests. I’m choosing to believe it’s because the business world moves slowly this time of year. Fingers crossed the offers will start pouring in after the new year rolls around. I’m trying to remain calm and positive, but every day that goes by without a resolution to my unemployment, the closer I get to panic.

Which is why I’ve been increasingly thankful for Amanda’s wise suggestion to pursue a hobby. In between the applications, I’ve been keeping our apartment cleaner than it’s ever been and cooking for my roomie almost every night. I’ve also seen Zach twice since Saturday because I realized there is no reason not to continue with my pre-firing gym routine. He seemed surprised but pleased the first time, and nothing but happy to see me the second time. It feels somehow both different and the same as it always has to run on a treadmill beside him.

I’m finding I like having a friend, rather than just an acquaintance, to workout with. It makes me run faster for sure because I look forward to chatting with him after we’re both finished. The first day he told me about finding a dead possum in a client’s yard when he blew away all the leaves that had been piling up. I had to clasp a hand over my mouth to hold back my hysterical laughter as he described the terrible smell and the client’s reaction when he told her what he’d found. She’d almost blacked out in horror, but thankfully he revived her and assured her he’d already taken care of disposing of it.

Then yesterday, he’d informed me that my paintings appeared to be fully dry and promised to bring them with him tonight. I can hardly wait to hang them. When I texted Amanda photos of them before I left his house last week, she demanded that they be displayed in the living area where we could both enjoy them. I’m happy to oblige and already have a hammer and two nails out on the counter so I can put them up as soon as Zach gets here.

I’m just setting out the bowl of holiday trail mix I made when I hear a muted thumping at the door that tells me Zach has arrived. “Come in,” I call.

I freeze when I hear a muffled male voice on the other side of the door. I frown. I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. It is Zach, right?

I jog to the door and press my eye to the peephole to confirm before yanking the door open. Zach has a painting in each hand and a bag draped on one elbow.

“Sorry, I couldn’t open the door without dropping some of this.”

“Come on in.” I hold the door open wide, eyeing the paintings with delight as he passes me. “They look even better than I remember.”

“Where should I put them?” They’re not huge, but they are big enough to be awkward to handle. I take one and set it in a chair, leaning it against the back, and he does the same with the other one.

Then he hands me the bag. “I know you said not to bring anything, but I saw it at the store and couldn’t resist.”

Curious, I reach inside and withdraw a canister of fancy dark chocolate cocoa mix. “Mmm, yummy,” I say as I reach deeper into the bag for the second item and find a can of whipped cream. “You’re the actual best, you know that?”

His smile is broad and a little smug. “I like to think so, yes.”

“Well, make yourself at home,” I tell him as I put the whipped cream in the fridge. “I’m just going to hang those paintings up real quick and then we can choose a puzzle and get this party started.”

“A party? I didn’t know this was a party. Maybe I should have dressed up a little.” He winks playfully, and my belly feels all warm and squiggly. I take his comment as an excuse to look him over boldly, running my eyes from the top of his brown, slightly windswept hair, down the length of his body, taking in his black T-shirt and grey joggers ending with black running shoes. He dressed for comfort today, like me, although I’m more colorful, as usual. I have on a pair of red buffalo plaid leggings, an oversized black sweatshirt with a glittery red reindeer silhouetted on the front, and a green headband.

“I think you look just fine,” I tell him with a return wink when I finish my perusal. His eyes widen slightly, and I think I see him swallow. I quickly avert my eyes, reaching for the hammer and nails. What’s wrong with me? I’m not supposed to be flirting with him. He’s been nothing but friendly, shown no signs that he’s any more interested in me now than he has been since we got back. All I’m going to do is scare the poor guy away, and I don’t want to do that. His company has been keeping me sane the last two weeks.

“Where do you want them?” he asks, lifting one like nothing weird just happened.

Thank goodness.

“I think I want to put one on either side of the fireplace,” I tell him.

“Fireplace?” I hear his amusement in his tone as he follows my line of sight to the TV set to an ASMR called “Crackling Hearth”.

“Yes, fireplace. You have to be fully bought in to appreciate this as a replacement,” I explain, gesturing to the onscreen flame that I think makes the room feel much warmer and cozier. “So this is a fireplace until springtime. Or until I’m ready to watch my favorite Christmas movie.”

“Which is?”

“ While You Were Sleeping .” I say this with a duh quality to my tone because of course. Not everyone agrees, but to me, it’s a holiday movie through and through. “Have you seen it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, that is a tragedy. We have to watch it now.” I set my hammer down and reach for the remote on the coffee table.

“Like, now now?” He glances at the painting in his hand and then over at the puzzle boxes on the table.

“Maybe not right now,” I relent. “But we should watch it soon. You might have to come back again tomorrow night.”

“Okay.”

His immediate agreement catches me off guard. “I mean, you don’t actually have to. I’m not commanding you to. But we could if you want to.”

“I do want to. Tonight, we’ll do puzzles, and tomorrow will be movie night.”

He sounds sure, and he doesn’t look put upon, so I slowly nod. “Alright then, it’s settled.”

Reclaiming the hammer, I eye the wall like an artist about to create a masterpiece, then confidently step forward and tap the nail into place. I turn, quite satisfied with my home improvement skills, to tell Zach he can hang the first painting. The incredulous look on his face stops me.

“You didn’t check to see where the stud was,” he says, clearly disturbed.

“I didn’t need to. We’re not hanging anything heavy. These canvases only weigh a few ounces. Plus, I don’t have the thing to find them—you know, the tool that you wave around until it beeps or something?” I’m pretty sure I watched my dad do that once or twice.

“A stud finder?” Zach supplies. “I could have brought mine.”

“It’s really not necessary. Let’s hang the other one.” I take a good look at the wall from a few steps back and mentally mark where I think the second nail should go on the other side of the TV. I hold it up, hammer poised. “Does this look even with the other one?”

“Uh…I think so…” He doesn’t sound sure, but luckily, I trust my gut, and I secure the nail with a few light taps.

“Okay, let’s see how they look.” I grab the second painting, and we hang them both in tandem and then step back to take a look. “Not bad.” As far as I can tell, they look pretty evenly spaced to me, and level with each other.

I glance at Zach who looks mystified. “I can’t believe they look that good without using a level.”

“A what?” That sounds familiar, but I can’t place the word.

“It’s a tool that you use to make things…well, level. You know what? Never mind. It’s not important.” He turns away as if to put it out of his mind and walks to the kitchen, but I see him sneak at least one more glance over his shoulder as if to double-check that they still look okay and haven’t fallen off of the wall. I try to think back on projects my dad did around the house, wondering if all men are concerned about the proper procedures and tools for hanging things or if it’s quirk peculiar to Zach.

“Should I go ahead and make us some hot chocolate?” he asks, his hand hovering over the cabinet with the glasses and mugs in it. It gives me a feeling of warmth that he knows where to find things in my kitchen. He looks like he belongs here.

“For sure, but first, tell me which one of these looks like a good starter puzzle?” I hold up the two I ordered. One is the inside of a bookshop with full shelves and stacks of books, several curious kittens nosing about. The other is of a stone cottage set against a lavender sunset, with wildflowers and a little footbridge in the foreground.

He leans forward and studies both for a moment, then points to the second one. “That one. I like the house and the flowers.”

“Done.” I toss the other puzzle onto the couch and lift the lid on the one he chose, dumping all thousand pieces in a heap on the table and propping the box to one side to look at if we get stuck.

I move the bowl of trail mix and a plate of cheese and crackers to the table too and sit down to wait on Zach. “There’s Dr. Pepper in the fridge too, if you don’t want hot chocolate,” I tell him.

He looks at me with a surprised smile. “You bought my favorite drink?”

“Yes. Hopefully you haven’t reached your limit for the week yet,” I tease.

“I have not. But I’m going to start with one of these.” He holds up two mugs, one of which is piled high with whipped cream.

“Mmmm.” I do a happy wiggle as he hands me my mug. I take a sip and sigh with contentment. This stuff is good.

“Where do we start?” Zach asks, looking a little intimidated by the huge jumble of pieces.

“You always start with the edge pieces,” I tell him. “That’s the only right way to do it.”

“You seem to have strong feelings about this,” he says, sipping his own cocoa.

“I used to do a lot of puzzles as a kid, and that’s the way my mom taught me to do it. I’ve never heard of another way that makes more sense.”

He dips his head in concession. “Let’s dive in.”

Three hours later, I stifle a yawn and look at my watch. My eyes fly wide open. “Oh my goodness, it’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Really?” Zach checks his phone to confirm. He frowns at our half-finished puzzle. “I didn’t expect this to be so addictive.”

I laugh. “That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? I just want to keep going until it’s done, even though my back is killing me.” I stand and stretch, kneading the muscles in my lower back.

“I do too, but I probably need to get going. I have an appointment to blow leaves and clean gutters at eight tomorrow morning.”

I nod as another yawn breaks free. “I think I’m ready for bed too.”

Zach stands and grabs his jacket. “Thanks for the snacks and good company.”

“Same to you. Hey, what’s your one to ten rating on this one with ten being more fun than a barrel full of monkeys and one being you’d rather clean porta potties?”

He shudders. “I can’t think of any activity that would rate a one. But I actually really enjoyed this, so I’d say…an eight?”

“That’s what I was going to say!”

“Sounds like this hobby might be a keeper,” he says with a chuckle as he moves toward the door. “But we’d probably better finish it first before we make that call.”

“Yes, that’s smart.” But I’m already convinced that I’m a puzzler now. “See you tomorrow for the movie?”

“You’re on.” His grin just before he steps out the door makes my stomach tingle in the best possible way for the rest of the short time before I climb into bed and lingers in my dreams after that.