STROKED LONG Read Free Page A

failed and pathetic previous attempts.
    “Bodi, you know, Ruby, correct?” Rita asks.
    Please God, let him remember me. My days and nights will be made if he acknowledges my presence.
    In a deep, incredibly masculine voice, full of rasp, he says, “Yeah, Eva’s friend.”
    Eva’s Friend! Yes! For some reason, I am more than elated to be known as Eva’s friend. I can’t help it. I go all Ruby on him.
    Placing a finger on the top of my head, I twirl myself one full 360, stop in a jazz-hand way, shoot him my fake guns, and then hold out my hand. “Ruby Hearts at your service.”
    Yeah, it might be a little much but memorable for sure . . . as a crazy person.
    Slowly, scanning me up and down, he grabs my hand, shakes it, and politely says, “Good to see you again.” I hold back the drool that demands to fall out over his hand connecting with mine. I’m in utter glory, reveling in the way his skin feels against mine, fighting the impulse to hold my hand in the air and shake it about, claiming Bodi Banks touched it. “I don’t remember the, uh, glitter last time,” he adds, pointing to his eyes with two fingers.
    Glitter?
    Oh yeah . . .
    Damn you, Charlie, you little rat bastard!
    My hands quickly go to my face where I try to cover the glitter mess, parting my fingers just enough so I can still look at Bodi.
    Pay attention. This is what they call making a good impression with another human being. Take lessons, I know what I’m doing.
    “Ever have a glitter fart blast you in the face?”
    He cringes, and I realize Bodi is in his late twenties; he’s not a child, and he wouldn’t appreciate a good glitter fart joke.
    Casually shrugging it off, my hands still covering my eyes, I say, “Yeah, me either.”
    Clearing her throat next to us, Rita steps in, a few seconds too late. Damn you, Rita. “Shall we discuss the foundation?”
    “That would be lovely,” I respond, bumping my hip against the counter to strike a casual pose . . . glitter face and all.
    “Thanks to Eva and Bodi’s donation to the center, we are starting a new foundation to raise scholarship money for kids who want to pursue a degree in the arts and athletics.”
    Complete waste of time, but I don’t say that out loud. Much help it did me. Then again, Eva majored in art and look at her. Apparently you just need to do anything but art history.
    “That’s very commendable,” I say to Bodi who just nods his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
    “It is, but we are going to need more of a backing, and that’s where you come in, Ruby. We need help developing a campaign through the art department that will resonate with big donors. We need to tie both sports and art into this program. Bodi will work closely with you on this initiative. He has some great ideas already, so I will let you two get to it.”
    “Great. Thanks, Rita,” I respond with a cheery voice as she retreats. I turn to Bodi and smile shyly. “Where do you want to start?”
    Pulling out his phone, he scans his schedule, “Do you mind meeting up at night?”
    “Not at all. I’m flexible.” I stick my leg out and start stretching my hip flexors, showing him just how flexible I am . . . in a massively dorky way.
    He just nods and gruffs as he continues to look at his schedule, ignoring my minor stretch. Not much of a talker, this one. That’s okay, I do plenty of talking for everyone.
    “This is so exciting. How fortunate that you and Eva are able to give back to the very place your mom used to volunteer. You must be very proud.”
    He glances up, a quizzical eyebrow directed toward me. “Do you have tomorrow free? I would like to get this going before the games.”
    “Games? What games . . .?” I pause and then say, “Oh, the Olympics. Gosh, you say it so casually, as if it’s some weekend cricket match you plan on participating in out in Napa while sipping wine. You know, yucking it up with the sweaters and talking about argyle and all those important things.”
    The