“You think so?” she asks and starts blowing on the hot liquid in the cup.
I grunt.
“I haven’t noticed.” Her voice twitches very strangely at the end. “He just moved into town. Said I made a good first impression. I think he was trying to flirt.”
Thank fuck I didn’t have a hammer in my hands because there’re only so many unbruised fingers I have left. “Was he?”
“Maybe.”
I look up to find her watching me with a half smile on her face. “Did you flirt back?”
“What do you think?” She takes another sip, hiding behind the rim of the cup.
I shrug.
“I was being nice. It’s part of my job.”
I grunt again.
“If I’m not nice,” she continues, “people won’t come here.”
One more grunt.
“What?” she asks with a loud sigh.
“He your type?”
She tilts her head. “Are we really doing this?”
“Humor me.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Her laser eyes are focused on my face; I feel the pressure of her gaze. It’s almost palpable. “If I hadn’t already been waiting around for someone else to do something, I might have flirted back.”
I glance up at her. “You say yes to him?”
She rolls her eyes. “Did you hear a word I just said?”
“No. Yes.” I shake my head. “But that’s not the point.”
“Then what is?” The twinkle of her lips returns.
I tighten my hold on the wretch I’m still holding in my hand, so I don’t punch the wall. “I thought you’d be going out with me.”
“Have you asked me out?” She quirks a brow.
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“No.” She smiles. “You come and fix things. You clear my driveway.” She lowers her voice. “You kiss me. But you don’t say anything.” Her brows draw together. “Or even do anything anymore.”
“I didn’t say anything?” I ask.
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
I blink. Then blink again. I have two options. I can lead this conversation into a fight. Or I can admit to something I’m not good at and see how she’ll take it.
“I don’t know how to say… things,” I start with a loud sigh of resignation. “But I know how to do them.”
“Are you trying to explain to me your love language?” Her voice lightens while my chest weighs down with fear at the word.
