Another rumble of thunder has me hurrying along, and soon, I find myself on the front porch, my hand on the doorknob. I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is not my home. In fact, it’s so very much not my home that I’ll be sleeping out here tonight if the rain lets up. I look over at the lounge chair, only to see my pillow and blanket getting pelted with heavy drops of water. My first instinct is to be annoyed that my things have been rendered useless, at least for the night, but then a slow smile spreads across my face.
My bedding has been rendered useless.
Huh, suddenly a new possibility has sprung up as though it were a seed that required a whole lot of watering to come to life.
Okay, get it together, Mac. There are no ‘possibilities’ here. You’ll be riding the love seat tonight, which is going to be as bad as sleeping sitting up in the plane.
I turn the knob and walk inside.
Paige smiles at me from in front of the stove, where something that smells amazing is cooking. “You made it,” she says, smiling at me. “I was starting to get worried about you.”
“I’m fine. It’s just a little water.”
“You’re soaked through. Let me get you some towels,” she says, limping in the direction of the closet.
“No, that’s okay. I think I’ll go have a quick shower. Get all this sand off of me.”
“Right, good plan. Supper’s almost ready,” she calls to me as I walk down the hall.
“Great. It’s smells delicious,” I answer.
Flicking on the bathroom light, I strip down, carefully making a pile on the floor out of my sandy clothes, my mind going over everything we said since I walked through the door. If I were just someone observing us, I’d think it was a conversation between a husband and wife. In fact, the entire thing is all too familiar to me. I don’t want to have conversations like that. I like being alone. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The guy staring back at me looks way too happy, which begs the question: if I want to be alone so badly, why the hell am I smiling?
I shower quickly, then dry off before I realize my bag of clothes is in the living room. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I make my way down the hall. Paige is sitting at the table with the food already plated up—spaghetti and tomato sauce. Her eyes grow wide when she sees me and her cheeks turn pink.
Clearing my throat, I mutter, “I forgot my clothes.”
“Right, well … that’ll happen,” she answers as her eyes sweep up and down my body.
I turn and grin to myself while I grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from my bag. She likes what she saw. And I like that she likes what she saw.
“Be right back,” I tell her, striding down the hall.
When I return, she’s staring out the window, biting her bottom lip, and I can’t help but hope she’s thinking all sorts of dirty thoughts about me. I sit down across from her and take a deep inhale of the supper. “This looks terrific. I’m starving.”
“It’s just sauce from a jar,” she says with a little shrug.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate you cooking, especially on that bad ankle of yours,” I say, picking up my fork.
“It’s feeling a lot better actually,” she tells me, twirling some pasta around her fork. “I iced it a few times when you were gone, and mainly stayed off it.”
“Good,” I answer, taking a big bite. “Mmm, that’s delicious.”
She chuckles a little, then says, “You’re easy to please.”
“Seriously, you cooked the noodles just right. Not too soft. A lot of people make them too soft.” Like my ex-wife. She overcooked everything. Not that I’d ever say that out loud. There’s no need to make disparaging remarks about her just because it didn’t work out. I lift my iced tea and take a sip, pleasantly surprised that she’s added vodka to it. “Boozy,” I say as I set it back down.
“I hope you don’t mind. I thought you could use a drink after being out in the storm for so long.”
“I could definitely use a drink,” I tell her. “Are you having one?”
She nods. “Mine’s not as strong as yours though.”
I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at her. “New York, are you trying to get me drunk?”
Her cheeks turn bright red. “No! Of course not. I just thought it would warm you up a bit.”
“Right.” I have another bite of my meal, not even bothering to wipe the grin off my face.
