He dried his hands and reached into the lunch bag. The baggie he withdrew was full of large stuffed olives.
“Olives?”
“You devoured them the night we met. These are stuffed with blue cheese. I didn’t expect to find them in the fridge, but Mae said she gets them for you.”
“We’ve been known to make a fancy Bloody Mary or two.”
“It’s my turn to make a Bloody Mary, this time with Copper Summit bourbon.”
My interest piqued. “You’re waiting on me?”
He searched the little fridge for the mix. “I’m serving you.”
“Mr. James, are you trying to get me drunk?”
His expression turned knowing. “I don’t have to get you drunk to get what I want.”
The thrum started between my legs. “And what is it you want?”
He speared the olives and rested them across the glass’s opening. “I want you to relax and tell me about your day.”
“Nothing was different about today than any other day.” This was different. Right now with Gideon was not a normal part of any day outside of the last few weeks.
He pushed the glass over and rested his hands on the table. “Autumn, you’ve been grilling me for three days about moving cattle and how I felt about it. You rarely talk about your job.”
Was he keeping me from asking him deeper questions about how he was feeling? Like what had been bothering him last night? “I’m just a teacher, and I’m not supposed to talk about the students.”
“Yet the house is full of lesson plans and sample Thanksgiving crafts. You can tell me about those.”
“Handmade turkeys are so last century. I’m trying tofigure out another way to make turkeys that doesn’t take two hours.”
“Good start. Tell me more.”
I snatched an olive and popped it into my mouth. “That’s just it,” I said around the mouthful. I was full, but I’d down anything he made me. “You run a casino that makes how much a year?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Three hundred and fifty million. I looked it up.” I swirled the sword of olives in the liquid. “I know teaching kids is important, but everyone’s been to school. Everyone knows what teachers do.”
“I want to hear what you do.”
“But for how long?” Had I really asked that? I shoved another olive in my mouth.
He waited. I took a drink. How had that question slipped out? Dammit, Summer. She’d gotten it in my head that I could talk with Gideon, tell him I was falling for him—I’d crashed hard when I’d first seen him—but I was veering out of my fantasy world.
“What do you mean?” he asked when I swallowed.
“Nothing. I just don’t see how my day compares to the casino or even what you’ve been doing all week.”
“You grew up doing the same.”
“You’re right. I ran a local casino when I was eight.”
Humor lightened the green of his eyes. “I happen to find smart-asses sexy.”
“How convenient you’re married to one.”
He smiled, but it faded. The grimness returned.
