Page 20 of Something Just Like This

An elegant snort escaped her plump, glossy lips. “I look the same exact way I always do.”

“I agree. Beautiful.”

He ignored her adorable, doubting frown and escorted her into the car. “Tell me how your day was,” he said.

She crossed her legs, then tugged her coat down to make sure she was covered up. He found the gesture charming. “I went to an off-Broadway play currently in previews.”

“By yourself?”

She tossed him a look. “Yes, by myself. Is there something wrong with that? I happen to like my own company.”

He grinned. “Not at all, I love that you take yourself where you want to go. Too many of us are dependent on others or our phones for distraction. Was the play good?”

“Yes, it was a dark comedy but more clever than I expected.” She launched into the analysis of the plot and characterization. He felt as if he’d seen the play himself by the time she was done.

“Do you get your love of theater from your parents?”

“Probably. Growing up in the lifestyle, you gain some appreciation for it. It never made sense why they didn’t like books when all plays are based on scripts, but they seemed to look at performance differently.”

“They never read to you when you were little?”

“No. They preferred movies and performances over words, citing books were too stringent and allowed for no creative mental freedom. It drove them crazy that I was such a bookworm.”

His heart squeezed in sympathy. Her parents didn’t seem abusive, just selfish about what they wanted rather than their only child. Imagining her growing up as a lonely misfit made him want to fold her in his arms and comfort her. “I’m sorry. One of my favorite memories when I was a child was my mother reading Green Eggs and Ham.”

She snapped to attention. “Did you know Dr. Seuss wrote that exclusively to win a bet? He was told he couldn’t write a story with only fifty different words, so Seuss took the bet. Fifty dollars was on the line.”

He had to hold himself back from caressing her cheek or touching her in some way. She was charming when she recited her knowledge. “He won a lot more than fifty bucks after he wrote that, huh?”

“Yes. Anyway, unlike my parents, I find most stories fascinating because perspectives and outlooks differ depending on who’s watching.”

“You always term your mind as linear, but I think you have a wealth of creativity. Did you ever think about writing reviews or even a book?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’d go too deep in my head and miss out on the pleasure of being a participant. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Makes sense. Sometimes doing the things we love professionally kills the joy.”

“Exactly. What did you do today?”

“Boring errands mostly. Chloe stopped by.”

He adored the way her face lit up. “How is she?”

“Good, she was heading out with friends tonight. Wanted to check on her old man.”

“Is she still struggling with her breakup with Owen?”

His heart warmed at her concern for his daughter. “I think so, but she didn’t want to admit it. If I see that boy around one day, I’ll tear him apart.”

She grinned, and his insides lit up. “You raised a daughter who doesn’t need her father to fight her battles. She’d probably do more damage to Owen than you ever could.”

“I think you’re right. Speaking of Chloe, we talked about Thanksgiving. What are your plans?”

A tiny frown creased her brow. “Well, I’m planning to relax, eat a turkey by myself, and catch up on my reading. Why? Do you need me to volunteer at one of the shelters? I can definitely do that, Jonathan, especially since you won’t be here.”

He waved his hand in the air. “No, we have that covered. I have a team in place to hit a few of the soup kitchens in the area, and they know I’ll be away for the weekend. Chloe and I want you to join us at the Bishop farm this year.”

Shock flickered over her face. “I-I can’t do that. It’s a family dinner. But thank you for the invite.”