"Yeah. Of course, but—"
"Great," I chirped. "I'll call you back, okay?" And with that, I ended the call.
I didn't shower, but Ididbrush my teeth and freshen up before stomping down the stairs in search of you-know-who.
I found him at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and scribbling in a black notebook, using a pencil, not a pen.
So he'd actually found a pencil?
Well, goodie for him.
When I marched up to the table, he didn't even look up.
I cleared my throat.
Hestilldidn't look.
With a loud sigh, I finally said, "Hey, do you have something to tell me?"
Without pausing in his scribbling, he replied, "Not now."
"What?"
"Not now," he repeated.
"But why not?"
"Because I’m in the middle of something."
"Oh yeah?" My jaw clenched. "Me, too." In fact, I was in the middle of wondering what my sister knew thatIdidn't.
But from Jack, I received nothing but silence, except for the sounds of his pencil scratching at the paper.
I moved closer. "Don't you want to know whatI'min the middle of?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because if I stop now, I'll lose it."
"Lose what?"
"My train of thought."
Big whoop.Mytrain had derailed like fifteen minutes ago with that surprise phone call.I needed information, pronto.
I crossed my arms and gave him a hard stare until he finally looked up. As he did, I swear, my heart skipped a beat.
In the pale morning light, his eyes were so blue, they took my breath away. My mouth opened, but my mind went stupidly vacant.
He was wearing black running pants and a gray sleeveless shirt. His hair was rumpled, and his biceps bulged, like he'd just finished doing a hundred pushups and who-knows-what-else.
After a long, awkward silence, he set down his pencil and asked, "You done?"
Heat flooded my face.Done what? Staring?
Crap.I was doing it again, wasn't I?
