Page 77 of This Could be Love

“That smells wonderful!”

He shrugged and his expression said nothing less thanTold you so. I watched him pull two plates out of a cupboard and load them with a generous portion of fusilli and a spoonful of pesto. With a glance, he made sure I was okay with the amount. Together we carried our plates outside onto the terrace. The day’s heat was still shimmering across the wooden flooring, but a light breeze coming up from the ocean made it bearable. The sun was low on the horizon and was bathing the sky in spectacular reds. I slipped off my shoes and took a seat next to him on the patio sofa. He balanced the plate on his lap and crossed his feet on the table, and I quickly followed suit. We both had relatively large feet. There were tan lines around my ankles and the mint-colored polish on my toes was chipped in places. At least I didn’t have any blisters or bruises, which was the order of the day during tennis season.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask you if you wanted anything to drink.” He made a move to stand up, but I grabbed his arm.

“I’ll get something later.”

His eyes flashed, and I realized what my statement had implied.

“Oh, um, I didn’t… I mean, if you’ve got plans, then…”

“I don’t have any plans.”

“Okay.”

A tiny smile appeared on my face, so I shifted my eyes to my pasta.

“Having said that, Laurie’ll be coming home soon, and the vibe could get a bit…frosty.”

“You’re still angry.”

It wasn’t a question. I knew the answer already. Which is probably why he didn’t reply but just shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

“Forgiving me but not her is a little unfair, no?” I said carefully.

“Who said that I’ve forgiven you?” he replied, but his eyes didn’t stay serious for more than a second.

“True, you just had too much pasta. Why?”

“Why I made so much pasta?” He shrugged. “For tomorrow?”

“Or…for Laurie?” His expression told me I’d hit the bull’s-eye. “Be real. You don’t want to argue with her.”

“Of course not. I hate fighting. And I’m no good at it.”

“Kay would say otherwise.” A little more seriously I said, “End it. Extend an olive branch to her when she gets home.”

A thoughtful crease appeared on his forehead.

“Can I ask you something?” I added.

He looked at me expectantly.

“What did she mean when she said that…that you have a pretty hard time behind you?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I had a few problems at work before moving here.”

It was hard for me to hide my surprise. On the one hand, I’d assumed that it had to do with a woman. On the other, I had never asked myself what he did for a living. Had done. Still did? No, he was talking about hisoldjob.

“What…um…what kind of job?”

He hesitated. “I used to work with computers.”

“Computers?” I said in surprise.

He laughed softly. “Not what you expected, huh?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t exactly look like the classic nerd.”