A pre-edited sneak peak at the 5th Legatum book.
“Homework?” He asked, resting on the opposite bench for a moment.
“Yep, grading. I was hoping a change of scenery and some food would make this easier.” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“That sounds like it’s not working.”
“It’s not. I don’t know.” She rested her cheek in her palm, elbow resting on the table. She stared at the papers. “The students need an algebra brick upside their heads and I need a bubble bath.”
“The thing that always helped me with math, was context.” Bobby leaned back looking at the other customers, seeing if he was needed. He was. “I’ll be back.” He stood and left.
Ramona was still staring at the papers, she hadn’t moved when he returned with her french fries.
She popped a hot fry in her mouth, and chewed.
“As I was saying, context. I could care less about watermelons, but when Brad helped me he always put it into terms of the shop. How many cars how many parts, how to know what to order next. Have you tried that yet?”
“I need to. They were talking about that at my last school. How to prepare for the zombie apocalypse, food storage and stuff. How many cans of peaches to survive the first winter. How fast your gun shoots, how many bullets you need. That’s not a bad idea actually. I’m going to have to go over all of this again, why not. Thanks Bobby.” She popped another fry into her mouth, and smiled. “I’m going to need a burger for while I grade the rest of this.”
“BLT burger or you looking to branch out?”
“I’m going to live dangerously, can you add cheese to that?”
Bobby chuckled, “You are living dangerously.”
Ramona picked up the next paper in front of her. Teaching math with zombies, might actually work. She just hoped it wouldn’t get her into trouble with Principal Grover. He seemed to like to keep a tight reign on standards and how lessons were presented. The homework assignments seemed to get worse and worse as she continued grading.
Bobby arrived with her hamburger. “You’re still looking stressed.” He put the sandwich down in front of her, then reached behind her and began kneading her shoulders. Ramona felt like melting. Bobby’s hands were large and warm. His strong fingers dug into the tense muscles supporting her neck. “Your neck is like a rock.”
Ramona suppressed a groan, the massage felt so good. She felt like all of her muscles turned to jello. Bobby did know how to touch, okay this wasn’t the touch her friends seemed to seek out, but she would take it. “You need to go home and soak in a hot tub, that will help.” His thumbs continued to press circles next to her spine. Ramona could barely think.
“Ahh, I don’t have a tub, just a walk in shower. It sucks.”
Bobby continued working his hands over her shoulders.
“I think you missed your calling. You would make a killing as a masseuse.” Ramona almost purred.
His hands stopped, he patted Ramona on the shoulder. “I have a tub you can borrow.”
“What? Really? I don’t want to impose, but oh my God really?”
“Yeah, be right back.”
Ramona sat stunned. Bobby had a tub, and he was going to let her use it. Oh no, he’s hitting on me, wait Bobby never does that, he doesn’t need to. Her thoughts raced from the joy of a tub, to being worried if it was a come-on, and if she really wanted to be another notch on his belt or not. He was good looking, and nice, and that massage had felt so good. She wouldn’t mind a full body rub down. All the tension he had managed to work out of her neck returned. She shook her head, stop over thinking girl. She focused on eating her hamburger.
“Okay,” he was back. “I have an outdoor tub.”
“A hot tub?” Oh, that would be perfect she thought.
“No, just a tub. A really big tub. It has its own hot water heater, so it could be a hot tub, but no bubbles. I’m here all night, so if you wanted you could go over an use it.”
“Are you serious?” Ramona’s eyes were large saucers as she eagerly looked at Bobby. A tub! A bath!
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Look my dogs will be out, but they won’t bother you. Just tell them to shut up, use their names so they think they know you.” He picked up the pencil she had been marking papers with, tore off a sheet from his order book, and scribbled down his address.
“I’m out on east 2280, dented white mailbox just past a red cattle gate. Una is the big brown hound, Deuce looks like a white pit, Tre is the gray mutt. They are all bark. Like I said, use their names tell them to shut up, and they will calm down. Tre might jump a bit, but they’re harmless.”
Ramona took the scribbled address. “Your dogs are named one-two-three?”
“And the cat is Cat.”
