Evie texted Monica to tell her about the change of plans, then dived happily into Davy’s financial records, pleased to have both something to occupy her time and the chance to pay him back. It had been months since she’d challenged her brain with anything more than basic sums at the cafe counter, or the daily sudoku in the newspaper, and she’d been looking for something to test her limits.
She bored easily, which was one of the reasons she constantly tried new jobs, learnt new skills, met new people, and moved to new places. At least, it had been until the constant rotation of people and places itself became dull and unfulfilling.
Seriously, though. These records were in poor condition. She could only decipher as much as she had because she’d spent a lot of time poring over haphazard data before.
Davy returned from making two cups of tea in the squared off kitchen in the corner and dropped into the seat beside her.
“Is there a reason you don’t use a software program to manage your information?” she asked.
He scowled. “I prefer to keep it simple. It’s a small business, there’s no point in spending money on a fancy electronic system.”
It may be a small business, but based on the financials, he was making a tidy profit. “You should be able to afford a basic system,” she said. “Do you have any other records I need to see?”
“I have papers in my office, but everything has been copied onto the computer. I can get the originals if you need.”
“I’ll let you know if I do, but for now this should be enough.” She stood, shuffling the papers into a pile on the laptop keyboard. “I’ll take these back to the bedroom, so I’m out of your hair.”
“Suit yourself. And thank you for your help.”
“Oh.” She deflated. “You’re welcome.” For some reason, she’d been hoping he’d ask her to stay in the living area so they could work through the documents together. Silly, but she was disappointed he didn’t want to keep her company. “Okay then. I’ll see you later.” With that, she retreated to the bedroom.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she began to organize the numbers, cross-checking when they didn’t seem to add up. Realizing that in some instances the numbers had been reversed, she frowned. Davy may be a sloppy bookkeeper, but he hadn’t struck her as careless. As a teenager, he’d been one of the most conscientious people she knew.
Extending her legs, she reclined against the wall and scratched her chin. She’d have to get the original documentation so she could see which numbers were correct and which were mistakes. Fortunately, this only added to the challenge and gave her a reason to talk to him again. She wandered back to the terribly festive living room. She’d only glanced in as she’d passed earlier, and had been too distracted to fully appreciate the extent of Davy’s Christmas-mania, but now she paused and took it all in.
Tinsel adorned every flat surface and lights were strung up on the walls. A number of wreaths were fixed in place, and an eight-foot-tall pine tree stood proudly in the corner with a selection of gift-wrapped boxes beneath it, surrounded by fake snow. The tree itself was only partially decorated. A work in progress. Davy hung a red ball from the end of a branch and turned to smile at her. It was an easy, toothy smile. The kind you might give a close friend. The kind that had no business making her heart flutter.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
Evie debated how to phrase this diplomatically. She decided the direct approach would be best. “Not all of the numbers match. Can I get those papers you mentioned to cross-check with the spreadsheet?”
He raked a hand through his hair, tousling the ginger locks, which stood up like he’d been electrocuted. “Man, it’s worse than I thought. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she replied. “But it’s not a big deal if you keep all your paperwork.”
He looked pained. “I do. I’ll get it for you.”
She hesitated, then asked, “Would you like me to show you what kind of errors I’m talking about? I don’t want to go ahead and change anything if I’m going to screw up your record-keeping system.”
The bauble clutched in Davy’s fist shattered, shards digging into his skin.
“No,” he snapped, hating the way she flinched back from him. “You don’t need to show me. I believe you.”
She persisted. “I know I agreed to tidy your books, but the decisions on how to do that are still yours.” She opened the laptop on the coffee table, hit a few keys, then beckoned him over.
With a sense of impending doom, he crossed to her side and pretended to read over her shoulder. He nodded, as if it made sense. In reality, the letters were circling and spinning before his eyes. She pointed to a column and explained how she’d determined where the issues had arisen. Her words may as well have been gobbledygook.
Finally, she leveled him with an irritated glare. “Have you listened to anything I’ve said?”
“Abso-friggin-lutely,” he exclaimed, trying so hard to sound enthusiastic that it came out sarcastic. “I mean, of course.”
“I highly doubt that. What’s one thing I’ve said in the last few minutes?” When he couldn’t reply, she stood abruptly. “If you don’t care about the details, just say so next time.”
He grabbed her shoulder. “Wait.”
She froze. Then, very deliberately, she lifted his hand off her shoulder and stepped out of reach. “What?”
He swallowed, his tongue thick. He had to come clean and hope she didn’t laugh at him.
“I’m dyslexic,” he admitted. “I can’t understand what you’re trying to show me, because I can’t read it.” He hung his head, studied the floor, and waited for her scorn. After all, what grown-ass man couldn’t read properly?
But she didn’t laugh. Instead, she ordered him to look at her. He lifted his gaze slowly.
“Why didn’t you tell me that at the beginning?” she asked, her tone gentle.
He shrugged. “I was embarrassed. Wouldn’t you be?”
Her brows drew together. “How did I not notice this when we were dating?”
He shrugged again. “I have lots of coping mechanisms, but sometimes it isn’t enough. Some days I can manage, and some days I’m practically illiterate. It’s pathetic.”
Evie held eye contact and enunciated clearly, “Some people are good at some things, and some are good at others. Reading isn’t your strong suit. That’s not the end of the world. As far as your records go, you’ll just have to trust me, or get a second opinion.”
“I trust you.” He had to. No one else had ever seen the state of his records, and he’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as he could. He supposed that meant until the auditor arrived. Even the thought unsettled his stomach. He pushed it from his mind and instead pondered the mystery of Evelyn. When it came to his financial records, she seemed to genuinely know what she was doing—and enjoyed it. Weird, that. He’d never have picked her as the type of person who liked math, and he’d thought he’d known her well. Now, he wondered how much of what he knew was true and how much was his own preconception. After all, she’d thought she’d known him, too, but he’d kept his condition from her.
“How long are you staying in the area?” he asked. “This might take a while longer than you thought.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “I really don’t know.”
He nodded. It wouldn’t be the first time Evelyn blew through town with no clue where she was going or what she was doing next. She seemed to prefer living that way. A fact that rankled when he’d once hoped for her to settle down with him.
“If it convinces you to stay longer, I’ll pay you for your time.” Heck, she could name her price.
She rolled her eyes. “I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it. I should be in Timaru for at least a week, which gives me plenty of time. A friend of mine runs an orchard and I’ll be berry picking for her over New Year’s. I can work on your books in the evenings. After I’ve gotten the old data up to scratch, you’re on your own for anything going forward. Deal?”
“Deal,” he replied without hesitation, shaking the hand she extended. Then, overwhelmed by a surge of gratitude, he ducked his head and kissed her cheek.
She backed up so quickly it would have been comical if not for the blow to his ego, as effective as a karate chop to the throat. “Don’t do that.” Her voice was shaky.
He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Sorry, sorry. I got carried away.”
“Yes, you did.”
He winced. She wasn’t letting his faux pas go without comment.
“Don’t do it again,” she said. “If you need me, I’ll be in the bedroom. You can bring your paperwork to me there. It’s more comfortable.”
The way she said that made him think physical comfort wasn’t the only thing on her mind. Had his kiss made her uncomfortable? He never wanted to be one of those men who made women nervous. He’d seen plenty of those guys at his bar over the years and ejected them as rapidly as possible. But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe the past between them made her uncomfortable. If so, he wasn’t doing a damn thing to make it easier for her. She’d crushed him, so it was only fair she feel a little of what he had.
She took the laptop and left. He rubbed his eyelids, strolled to the sofa and slumped onto it. This was not how he’d thought he’d be spending Christmas Eve.