Page 35 of Deking at Love
Angie rolled her eyes but fell in step beside him.As they walked toward his truck, she swiveled her head and smiled.“Youdidget another Chevy.”
“Told ya.”
“And this one is much, much nicer.”
His chest filled with something warm and gooey he couldn’t explain.
Twenty minutes later, her Pathfinder sputtered to life.As she sat behind the wheel, he unhooked the cables and stowed them away.
“We’ll let it run for ten minutes,” he declared, “then I’ll follow you to be sure you get home all right.”She opened her mouth—to object, no doubt—and he held up his hand to cut her off.“Yeah, I know I don’t have to, but I’ll sleep better knowing you got home without breaking down again.”
She nodded, and a frisson of triumph threaded through him.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up to a 1940s brick bungalow, and he parked at the curb while she nosed her SUV inside a tight one-car garage.The taillights winked off, and she scooted from the driver’s side to the back of the vehicle.
“Mind if I come in and wash up?”he asked.
“Is this your ploy to get inside?”
He held up his grimy hands, and she motioned for him to follow her through the garage, into a tidy kitchen with a small eating area.The place didn’t look as though it had ever been remodeled, but it was clean and cozy.No surprise.
She showed him to a bathroom that was smaller than his walk-in closet and handed him a towel that she pulled from a linen cupboard.
He took in the old-fashioned tile and sink.“Wow!That’s a lot of pink.”
“Not my choice, but I’m only a tenant here.I’m told it’s ‘vintage’ and therefore very hip.Even if the pink toilet does have a crack in it and takes about twenty gallons of water to flush.”
He eyed her skeptically in the mirror while he washed.“It reminds me of Brianna’s grandparents’ bathroom.”
She gave his arm a playful shove that lit him up inside.“If it were like their place, I’d have creepy doily dolls ready to spring off a shelf.Like I said before, this is a doily-anddolly-free zone.”
“Yeah?”He wiped his hands on the towel.“Let’s see.”
Her blues widened in alarm.“What do you mean?”
“Show me around.I’ll make sure there are no bogeymen hiding under your bed.And next time, I’ll show you around mine.”
“And what will I be looking for underyourbed?”Dancing devil lights replaced the alarm in her eyes.
“Not what you’re thinking you’ll find.”No women’s underwear, no used condoms, no girlie magazines.Other than its size, his bedroom was more like a monk’s cell than a … monk’s cell.Hell, his whole apartment qualified.He’d never brought a hookup there.Hadn’t even been tempted.Then again, he hadn’t hooked up since moving his stuff to Denver.“Unless you’re looking for one of my stray socks or a smelly sneaker, I think you’re in for a huge disappointment.”
She held out her hands, palms up, presentation style.“Well, you’ve seen the bathroom.”She flipped off the light switch and took him on a two-minute tour around the rest of the place.Just like her kitchen, it was small and dated but neat and comfortable.A place where someone could stretch out on the couch and nap on a slow winter afternoon, and he found himself reluctant to leave.
“Would you mind if I had a drink of water?”
She’d been in the process of pulling her tie from her hair and smoothing her strands into a fresh ponytail, but she stopped mid-motion.“Um, sure.”
“And hey?How about leaving your hair down?”He offered her a half-smile he hoped wasn’t a leer.“It looks nice like that.”
She blinked, like a motorized doll with a battery overload.
“Plus,” he pushed, “don’t you get headaches with it pulled back like that all day?”
“Sometimes.”She tucked a strand behind her ear before stuffing the tie into her front pocket.She fetched a filtered pitcher from inside the fridge, poured water into a colorful striped glass, and handed it to him.
He sipped slowly as he watched her.She was nervous as a cat at a dog park, eyes bouncing around the space without ever landing on him.This wasn’t the Ice Princess or the competent physical therapist persona he was used to.
“Is me being here making you uncomfortable?”
