“Coming!” and proceed to stand there a little longer. I don’t want him to think I’m too eager, and besides, he’s very late. Let him wait for me now.
After a minute, Dex gives me a nudge. Figuring he’d waited long enough, I walk casually to the door and open it wide, schooling my features to be free of any emotion. “Hello, Travis.”
“Hey.” Silence surrounds us once again. “Drinkin’ again?”
I arch my brow and hold up my glass. “Yep, and I’m just about ready for a top up.” I take a step back, allowing him to follow me inside. I hear the sounds of Dex’s collar jingling as Travis greets him. “You’re late.”
The jingling stops. “I am.” He’s closer now. I can feel the heat from his body and his breath on my cheek. “I wasn’t going to come.”
My breath catches. “Why did you?”
“Because you wouldn’t answer the phone when I tried to cancel.”
The disappointment I’d felt earlier returns. “I had my phone off. My mother was driving me up the wall.” Taking a sip of my wine, I motion toward the door. “You can go if you want to.”
“No. I can’t.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Cause that shit smells fuckin’ delicious, and I’m starving.”
“You’re right. It does.” I put one hand on my hip and point my glass toward the kitchen. “That’s because I spent all afternoon getting it ready.” I turn and head for the kitchen. “I already put it in the fridge, since I assumed you weren’t coming, but I guess I can get it back out and heat you up a plate.”
I hear him following me and am instantly self-conscious of the table setting I had made. I’d set this up just like a date. The table is set neatly with linen napkins and a trio of pillar candles in the center. He didn’t come here for a date. He came here to eat, and because I didn’t answer the phone so he could cancel.
Hoping to distract him from my obviously misguided assumption, I reach into the fridge and pull out another bottle of wine. I turn toward him and hold it out. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Not a fuckin’ chance. Would love a beer, though.”
Beer? Why the hell didn’t I think of beer? “Uh … let me check.” I turn, rustling around at the back of the fridge, pulling out a beer like I’d just found a diamond. “Ha! I knew Daniel left some here!” I twist the cap off and hold it out to him.
He doesn’t take it. “Daniel?” he growls.
“Yeah. My brother.”
He gently pulls the beer from my hand. “Thanks.”
Was he jealous there for a minute? Or is that just wishful thinking? Turning back to the fridge, I set about getting supper ready again. Once everything is dished up and heated, I bring it all to the table. Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I set it down. “We can move to the living room if you’d like.”
“This is fine.” His voice is gruff, but I’m slowly learning that this is just the way he is and it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s angry. Travis is a man of few words. He reminds me so much of the kids I work with – a little broken and needing some subtle motivation to put himself back together.
Nodding, I take my seat and another long gulp of wine. This is so awkward. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wanted to be here, but his demeanor and his lateness tell me he doesn’t, and I feel like an ass. I don’t even know this guy. What am I doing?
This is a date. The fucking table has candles on it. I can tell just by looking at it and the way she’s dressed that she thought it was. I don’t fucking date, and I don’t know why I didn’t accept her offer to move to the living room. Maybe it was the way her hair was shining in the candle light, or the embarrassed expression on her face when she led me into the kitchen. It could have been the jealous feeling that
After a minute, Dex gives me a nudge. Figuring he’d waited long enough, I walk casually to the door and open it wide, schooling my features to be free of any emotion. “Hello, Travis.”
“Hey.” Silence surrounds us once again. “Drinkin’ again?”
I arch my brow and hold up my glass. “Yep, and I’m just about ready for a top up.” I take a step back, allowing him to follow me inside. I hear the sounds of Dex’s collar jingling as Travis greets him. “You’re late.”
The jingling stops. “I am.” He’s closer now. I can feel the heat from his body and his breath on my cheek. “I wasn’t going to come.”
My breath catches. “Why did you?”
“Because you wouldn’t answer the phone when I tried to cancel.”
The disappointment I’d felt earlier returns. “I had my phone off. My mother was driving me up the wall.” Taking a sip of my wine, I motion toward the door. “You can go if you want to.”
“No. I can’t.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Cause that shit smells fuckin’ delicious, and I’m starving.”
“You’re right. It does.” I put one hand on my hip and point my glass toward the kitchen. “That’s because I spent all afternoon getting it ready.” I turn and head for the kitchen. “I already put it in the fridge, since I assumed you weren’t coming, but I guess I can get it back out and heat you up a plate.”
I hear him following me and am instantly self-conscious of the table setting I had made. I’d set this up just like a date. The table is set neatly with linen napkins and a trio of pillar candles in the center. He didn’t come here for a date. He came here to eat, and because I didn’t answer the phone so he could cancel.
Hoping to distract him from my obviously misguided assumption, I reach into the fridge and pull out another bottle of wine. I turn toward him and hold it out. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Not a fuckin’ chance. Would love a beer, though.”
Beer? Why the hell didn’t I think of beer? “Uh … let me check.” I turn, rustling around at the back of the fridge, pulling out a beer like I’d just found a diamond. “Ha! I knew Daniel left some here!” I twist the cap off and hold it out to him.
He doesn’t take it. “Daniel?” he growls.
“Yeah. My brother.”
He gently pulls the beer from my hand. “Thanks.”
Was he jealous there for a minute? Or is that just wishful thinking? Turning back to the fridge, I set about getting supper ready again. Once everything is dished up and heated, I bring it all to the table. Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I set it down. “We can move to the living room if you’d like.”
“This is fine.” His voice is gruff, but I’m slowly learning that this is just the way he is and it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s angry. Travis is a man of few words. He reminds me so much of the kids I work with – a little broken and needing some subtle motivation to put himself back together.
Nodding, I take my seat and another long gulp of wine. This is so awkward. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wanted to be here, but his demeanor and his lateness tell me he doesn’t, and I feel like an ass. I don’t even know this guy. What am I doing?
This is a date. The fucking table has candles on it. I can tell just by looking at it and the way she’s dressed that she thought it was. I don’t fucking date, and I don’t know why I didn’t accept her offer to move to the living room. Maybe it was the way her hair was shining in the candle light, or the embarrassed expression on her face when she led me into the kitchen. It could have been the jealous feeling that
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