I smiled, but the skin felt stretched, as if my face wasn’t sure how to handle this change of events. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Mind if I catch a ride with you?” Cormac asked.
“Well, no, since you just gave away your car.”
“You seem nervous.”
I licked my lips. “I am. I mean, twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t connected to a celebrity.”
He sighed. “Yeah, you were. You have been since the moment people saw us at dinner the other night.”
Nerves fluttered in my belly. “I didn’t know that, though.”
Cormac stopped walking, so I did, too. We stood between two cars as he turned me to face him, his palms cupping my elbows. “I’m just me. Just like you’re you. Get me?”
I nodded.
“I want to see where this attraction between us goes. Do you want that?”
“I do. I just… I don’t know how to be involved with a famous person.”
He wrapped his arms around me. They were thick and warm, and I laid my cheek against the wall of his chest and closed my eyes, letting the experience calm me.
“If it makes you feel any better, neither do I.”
I straightened up, and he loosened his hold but didn’t drop his arms—as if he really wanted to be here with me. In a parking lot.
“I’d like you to come to my place,” he said.
I gnawed on my lower lip as I looked up at him. His eyes burned with desire. I cleared my throat. “Sure. You’ll just have to give me directions.”
He smiled. “Then you’ll know how to get there on your own. For next time.”
Forty-five minutes later,we pulled into his driveway behind an ornate, black cast-iron gate. The house, a two-story made of red brick with white stone across the first-story façade, was an impressive presence. The door was a gleaming black, not unlike the colonial homes I’d seen on my trip to Philadelphia last year. My palms were sweaty as I took them from the steering wheel. Once again, the distance between Cormac’s life and mine slammed into my reality.
I followed him up the steps, admiring the Travertine-tile flooring in the double-story entry and the gleaming wood staircase that swept up into an elegant arc, bisecting the space. Cormac walked toward the great room, which was indeed great. A TV nearly the size of a movie screen took up an entire wall. The three full-length sofas arranged in the space were sleekly modern, but not leather, as I’d expected. They were a rich brown tweed. The coffee table seemed to be a large drum.
Cormac saw me staring at it. “I got that on a trip through the southwest a couple of years ago. The top’s cowhide.”
I nodded, feeling dazed.
“Want a drink?” he asked.
“Sure. Water. I have some work to do later.”
Cormac strode into the kitchen. The enormous range—a fancy one with a French name—dominated the space. His refrigerator was twice the size of mine, and he had those dishwasher drawers. Everything about the house screamed wealth and status.
“I’m the first person in my family to go to college,” I blurted.
“I never even applied,” Cormac responded as he opened the fridge. “You okay with filtered water? I try not to use plastic bottles since I saw that video online about sea turtles and plastic.”
“Yes, of course.” No doubt his water filter was fancy, too, but I’d grown up on tap water, so I wasn’t picky. “I just meant our worlds aren’t the same. I’m a school occupational therapist.”
“Which I had to look up, by the way. I didn’t even know that was a job until I met you.”
“And I have a tiny house, just two bedrooms and one bath.”
He handed me a glass before he poured another. “That seems big enough for one person.”
