Curiosity had been playing like a song on repeat in my mind since that night, wondering what book she was listening to, because she sure as hell wasn’t listening to a medical journal. Maybe it was another quirky comedy about a group of drag queens that compete in drag races after their show. Or maybe it was something a little more suspenseful, a little grittier, like theAmerican Tailbounty hunter series, of which she’d read two books that I knew of so far. When I’d learned about Polly’s upbringing, the sad story about her momma passing, the neglectful nature of her father, the undiluted anger I felt surprised me. It was no wonder Polly liked reading books about strong women. Because in the last two days, those little glimmers were there, peeking out of her. How dare her father take a woman as strong and bright as Polly and try to change her, forcing her to be anything else but herself.
If she were ever mine, I’d give her room to shine, hoping to bask in her light as long as she’d have me.
Polly was still rummaging through her purse, not having seen me standing near the back of the kitchen. I shifted my weight and took a slow step in her direction, holding up my hands so I didn’t startle her.
Polly gasped and before I could blink an eye, she pivoted toward me, grabbed her purse like a WNBA pro, and chest pressed it directly at . . .myman purse.
“Why,” I squeaked out, clutching my pocket-Jaces and sunk to my knees.
“Oh my God! I didn’t see you!” Polly yelled, rushing to me.
“S’fine,” I wheezed out.
“Are you sure?” Polly leaned over me, putting her hand on my shoulder.
I could only nod.
Polly sighed and looped her arm through mine. “Let me help you to the couch,” she said, helping me stand despite the deep pulsating ache in my groin. “Do you need ice?”
“Ice?!” I hollered, hitting an octave I’d not reached since the sixth grade.
Polly jerked back, holding up her hands. “That’s what you do for an injury! Would heat be better?”
My voice came out pained as I rasped, “I thought you were a doctor.”
“I don’t know! I don’t have balls!” Polly yelled, sounding flustered.
Two seconds passed until I smirked, which was followed shortly by a soft chuckle from Polly and then we were both laughing quietly, the tension between us finally breaking.
I managed a slow step backward. “I didn’t think it was possible to laugh after getting hit in the nuts,” I said, stifling a little groan with each step back.
She walked over to grab her purse from the floor, smiling apologetically. “Probably haven’t pictured being attacked with a purse while making coffee, either. Are you sure you’re ok?”
I nodded, finally able to lean back against the counter where my coffee had finished brewing. “I’m fine. It’s not the first time the Vargas jewels got hit.”
“When was the first time?” Polly busied herself, grabbing a tall, handled thermos and filled it with tap water.
“I almost don’t want to say.”
Polly looked over her shoulder at me. “Now I want to know even more.”
I groaned. “Fine. But don’t laugh. Sam convinced me to help him shear a herd of sheep once.”
Polly’s eye twitched, and she turned back to the sink.
“Oh.”
Her voice sounded strangled.
I sighed, acting disappointed, but I was secretly pleased we’d gone back to our easy banter. “Go ahead and laugh.”
Polly’s answering laughter filled the kitchen and my soul.
“Why on earth would you two shear a herd of sheep?” Polly grabbed a packet from a drawer in front of her, then held up a hand. “Wait, this is the same Sam who hired you as a clown when I wanted a magician, right?” She dumped the packet into her thermos and stirred it.
Ruefully, I shook my head. “One and the same. I did gain a healthy respect for sheep farmers that day. I try to appreciate their sacrifice every time I put on a wool hat.” I ran my hand back and forth through my hair to emphasize it.
Polly’s eyes moved to my hair and held there, my breath stalling as they remained fixed on my unruly curls for one beat, two beats . . . then, abruptly, wrenched her gaze back to mine.
