movie. Then ice cream after? I’m shooting for a do over.” He smiled, so she returned it.
Ice cream the other night had just been getting-to-know-you, but the movie made it a date. He probably would have taken her to dinner first if they hadn’t just spent all day working in a diner. Wow. A date. He wanted to go on a date, in public, with her. Very standard. A movie and ice cream. No pressure, but her stomach still wanted to cower around her spine. “Okay. I just have to finish up here.”
“I’ll get these to the kitchen while you wipe down the table. How’s that?” He lifted the unharmed glass and the broken glass-filled towel out of her hands with just the lightest touch of his fingers.
“Thanks.”
Chapter 4
The movie was the original Frankenstein with Boris Karloff. Marc draped his arm across the back of Alex’s chair and sat with one ankle resting on the other knee, taking up as much space as he could. By the end of the movie, her butt was numb because she didn’t know how to sit, but didn’t want to move out of fear that he would think she was uncomfortable. That made no sense because she was uncomfortable. She was turning into Jane Eyre, riding backward in the carriage even though it made her sick because she didn’t want to cause trouble. And what did that win Jane? Nothin’.
But then on the way to ice cream several people stopped them to get his autograph and take pictures. Of both of them. Together. Why they wanted pictures of her with him she didn’t know, but he wasn’t hiding the fact that they were together.
Refreshing. Maybe Jane had something with that backward carriage riding.
“Strawberry, right?”
“Please.”
“Go ahead and find a place to sit.”
Alex settled in the shadow of a tree. It wouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes for him to get ice cream. Not enough time to sort out her thoughts. He was nice. He’d waded into the mess this morning without thinking twice and straightened it out like a master. Now, a real date. If he only wanted to get into her pants, he didn’t have to do this much.
Not that she intended to jump into bed with any man who wandered by, but Marc could get female companionship much easier than all this. That implied that he wanted her, in particular. Which made no sense at all. Unless Paul and Ida had convinced him that she was the perfect woman.
She should have skipped Google and interrogated Ida and Paul.
“Here you go.” Marc held out a strawberry ice cream cone.
Great, just in time to leave her with more questions than she’d started with.
“This is intimate.”
Damn, she should have picked a brighter spot. “It seemed like it would be quiet.”
“Yeah, sorry about the fans. They pay my living so I try to be nice to them.”
“Good idea.” The shadows were not helping her figure out whether he had coffee or butter pecan. “Good ice cream.”
“It is.”
“Ida says they make it right here and get all the produce locally.” And we had this conversation the day before yesterday. “So tell me about this song.”
“My buddy has a talent for coming up with good starts, but he’s not strong on finishing things. He dreamed something up the other night and sent it to me, so I had to follow up before he lost interest.” He licked his ice cream. “I miss the days before Garageband when Jason had to record what he’d come up with and mail it to me or come to my house in person. It gave me a little time between his genius brain farts.”
“What’s Garageband?”
“It’s a computer program that lets you record right on the computer, and then you can attach the file to an e-mail. It’s a nice program. Makes it easier for us to work together when we’re not all in the same state. What about you? You said you were working on a master’s degree on a writer?”
“Poet. Eliot. T. S. Eliot. I use Word.”
“Word?”
“The word processing program.” None of that made any sense at all. Her mouth was
Ice cream the other night had just been getting-to-know-you, but the movie made it a date. He probably would have taken her to dinner first if they hadn’t just spent all day working in a diner. Wow. A date. He wanted to go on a date, in public, with her. Very standard. A movie and ice cream. No pressure, but her stomach still wanted to cower around her spine. “Okay. I just have to finish up here.”
“I’ll get these to the kitchen while you wipe down the table. How’s that?” He lifted the unharmed glass and the broken glass-filled towel out of her hands with just the lightest touch of his fingers.
“Thanks.”
Chapter 4
The movie was the original Frankenstein with Boris Karloff. Marc draped his arm across the back of Alex’s chair and sat with one ankle resting on the other knee, taking up as much space as he could. By the end of the movie, her butt was numb because she didn’t know how to sit, but didn’t want to move out of fear that he would think she was uncomfortable. That made no sense because she was uncomfortable. She was turning into Jane Eyre, riding backward in the carriage even though it made her sick because she didn’t want to cause trouble. And what did that win Jane? Nothin’.
But then on the way to ice cream several people stopped them to get his autograph and take pictures. Of both of them. Together. Why they wanted pictures of her with him she didn’t know, but he wasn’t hiding the fact that they were together.
Refreshing. Maybe Jane had something with that backward carriage riding.
“Strawberry, right?”
“Please.”
“Go ahead and find a place to sit.”
Alex settled in the shadow of a tree. It wouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes for him to get ice cream. Not enough time to sort out her thoughts. He was nice. He’d waded into the mess this morning without thinking twice and straightened it out like a master. Now, a real date. If he only wanted to get into her pants, he didn’t have to do this much.
Not that she intended to jump into bed with any man who wandered by, but Marc could get female companionship much easier than all this. That implied that he wanted her, in particular. Which made no sense at all. Unless Paul and Ida had convinced him that she was the perfect woman.
She should have skipped Google and interrogated Ida and Paul.
“Here you go.” Marc held out a strawberry ice cream cone.
Great, just in time to leave her with more questions than she’d started with.
“This is intimate.”
Damn, she should have picked a brighter spot. “It seemed like it would be quiet.”
“Yeah, sorry about the fans. They pay my living so I try to be nice to them.”
“Good idea.” The shadows were not helping her figure out whether he had coffee or butter pecan. “Good ice cream.”
“It is.”
“Ida says they make it right here and get all the produce locally.” And we had this conversation the day before yesterday. “So tell me about this song.”
“My buddy has a talent for coming up with good starts, but he’s not strong on finishing things. He dreamed something up the other night and sent it to me, so I had to follow up before he lost interest.” He licked his ice cream. “I miss the days before Garageband when Jason had to record what he’d come up with and mail it to me or come to my house in person. It gave me a little time between his genius brain farts.”
“What’s Garageband?”
“It’s a computer program that lets you record right on the computer, and then you can attach the file to an e-mail. It’s a nice program. Makes it easier for us to work together when we’re not all in the same state. What about you? You said you were working on a master’s degree on a writer?”
“Poet. Eliot. T. S. Eliot. I use Word.”
“Word?”
“The word processing program.” None of that made any sense at all. Her mouth was
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