Page 16 of Counting the Days

“Nah, I gotta get home,” Rhea said, kissing Chichi on the top of her head, grabbing her leather Saint Laurent jacket, and borderlinerunningto the door. Every second she stayed increased her chances of breaking down in front of the entire family.

“Okay…well, do you wanna take some lasagna? We made it last night, and we have so much left,” Ada offered, still able to mother Rhea amidst her overwhelming life.

“No, no, that’s okay—Actually, yes,” Rhea said, deciding there was always time for lasagna.

303Days

Rhea did find it odd,the copious amount of time she spent choosing an outfit for her appointment with Patricia. But she concocted a way to justify it: Patricia was Danny’s colleague, so she might call Danny after the appointment and say, “Hey, I just met the perfect woman for you, she’s super stylish and attractive.”

Rhea guessed this was a long shot, but she would never know if she didn’t try to put her best foot forward, so, on that foot, she wore a Toteme leopard-print ballet pump. She squeezed into her most flattering high-waisted Khaite jeans; they were her “standing jeans.” They could only become “sitting jeans” if she unbuttoned a few buttons, but her intuition told her this would be a standing appointment. She topped it all off with a crisp white T-shirt. One of the few things she knew about Danny was that he, too, wore white T-shirts, and maybe Patricia would mention that as one of the things they had in common.

She probably put on a bit too much eye makeup for the occasion. Getting a quote for a garden bed in the middle of the day did not necessarily demand a smoky eye, but once she started applying shadow, her anxiety pushed her to keep going. She waswiping off the anxiety-driven red lipstick when she heard a knock at her door.

She swung open the door with her bestI am a confident woman and an incredible catch for your bossenergy, but that energy drained from her body when she saw Danny Beckett standing on her porch. He smiled at her with his goddamn beautiful face, leaving her speechless.

“I heard you wanted a bullshit garden,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, I am…so…sorry about that. I was drunk and…please forget everything I said.”

“I wasn’t offended,” he said with a laugh, then added, “Can I come inside?” Rhea pushed the double entendre from her mind.

“Of course, yes.” She stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter.

“Such a great house…so few of these hunting cottages have survived. Is this the original floor?” He gestured to the decaying planks of wood under their feet.

“As far as I know. I wanted to get new flooring, but that’s a whole thing.”

“Just refurbish them. They don’t make ’em like this anymore. You don’t wanna throw this wood away. I bet there’s more of it under that carpet.” He pointed to the humiliating brown carpet a few feet away in the living room.

Rhea’s heart was vibrating from his surprise visit. “Yeah…I…was told someone named Patricia would be doing the initial consultation?”

“Well, I fired Patricia so I could see you again,” he said, and Rhea laughed too loudly. “No, I, uh, saw your name on the schedule and it’s kind of an unusual name, so I wondered if you were the same Rhea I met at Tiny’s house…then I googled you.”

“Stalker.”

“Says the woman who made an appointment with my company.” Danny’s eyes twinkled.

“I didn’t know it was your company.”

“Oh, so this is all just a big coincidence?”

“Complete coincidence.”

They stood there smiling at each other.

Years ago, Rhea had made a vow to stop sleeping with men on the first date, or even the second. After two decades of intense market research, she discovered that if you make a guy wait at least a month for sex, one of two things happens: One, they ditch youprettyquickly, which exposes their only motive was getting laid. Or two, even if theiroriginalmotive was getting laid, they have had enough time to get to know you and actually care about you, so when they finally do get laid, they are emotionally invested enough to stick around.

Rhea was one of those women who suffered from the horrible affliction of getting too attached to their partner after having sex for the first time. This phenomenon occurred regardless of how toxic her suitor was. If Rhea had sex with the devil himself, she would lie next to him afterward, admiring his goatee, convincing herself his horns were barely noticeable and his pitchfork made him look quite dignified. She would look around and think,It’s not that hot down here, I could get used to it.

Because of this affliction, no matter how sexually frustrated she got, she would never break the internal vow to make her partner wait. But there, in her entryway / living room / dining room, if that gorgeous gardener had picked her up, put her on the table, and slowly unbuttoned her standing jeans…she would have let him.

Unfortunately for Danny, he didn’t know that, so he said, “Wanna show me your backyard?”

Rhea took the five steps to the back of her cottage, forced open her swollen French doors, and led Danny into her dry backyard.

“Steve, no!” she said to the coyote that was lifting its leg on a decrepit lounge chair. Steve abruptly stopped doing his business and bolted over the fence.

“Friend of yours?”