Page 40 of Too Good to Be True

“How so?”

“You volunteered for yardwork, set the table, and cleaned up. Do you cook too?”

“Some, but it’s not my strong suit.”

He’d leaned back against the kitchen counter, looking at ease.

“What is your strong suit?”

“Hmm. I guess that depends on who you ask.”

He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. Since they were friends now, she decided he was teasing rather than flirting. A minor yet important distinction if she was to remain cool.

“What if I asked Gail and Armando?”

He thought for a minute. “They would probably say I’m compassionate.”

She nodded, having already discovered that herself. “What if I asked your friends?”

“They would probably say I’m fun-loving.”

“I can see that. How about your girlfriends?”

He looked surprised, and frankly, so was she.

“Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He laughed. “It’s only fair since I asked you some personal questions too. I don’t have a girlfriend right now, but in the past, I’ve been described as…” He shifted and glanced down at his feet.

This was the first time he’d seemed nervous, and somehow that made her feel braver. Everyone had vulnerabilities, and maybe she’d stumbled on one of his. Was he afraid to tell her, or was he just being humble? She was dying to find out.

He slowly lifted his head, and his eyes locked on hers. Her peripheral vision vanished. She saw only him, standing in her kitchen and looking more delicious than the wine and spaghetti.

He had a knack for captivating her attention, and when he finally spoke, his words reverberated in her chest.

“I’ve been told I’m attentive and passionate.”

Mayday, Mayday, woman down! Someone call an ambulance!

She cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone dry. True to his description, he reached for her tumbler of water and handed it to her. Attentive was accurate. As for passionate, she’d never know.

“Thanks,” she said after swallowing a large gulp of water. “Sometimes wine makes my throat dry.” It was a poor excuse, but he accepted it.

“Mine too.” He reached for the tumbler she’d filled for him earlier and sucked down some water. After he set it back on the counter, he said, “Well, I should probably get going.”

She didn’t argue this time. As new friends, they’d shared enough for one day. Besides, they’d be working closely together for a few more weeks. They’d have plenty of time to get to know each other.

She walked him to the door leading outside through the garage. “Thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“If you want help with the front lawn next weekend, let me know. My schedule’s pretty wide open.”

“I just might take you up on that.”

“I hope you do.”

Then came that awkward moment where she wondered how to say goodbye. Should I shake his hand, hug him, wave?

He put his arms around her and squeezed, effectively taking the decision out of her hands.