“I do.” My heart warms at how I spend my days. “I like dealing directly with our customers, very different from working in the corporate office. I’ve also discovered I like working for myself.”
We continue talking about CC’s, then touch on some of the ideas I’ve had for this place. Before long, our bottles are drained and we clear away the dishes. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Kit, and I don’t want the evening to end. I don’t think he does either as he readily accepts the offer of coffee.
We move to the couch in front of the fire with our mugs. This time it’s me asking the questions. I want to know what he does, to learn more about him.
“You mentioned you can do your job from anywhere. What is it you do?”
There’s a slight shift in his body language. It’s subtle, but I can see he’s reluctant to answer my question. “I’m a writer,” he eventually says.
“That’s awesome,” I say. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a writer before. Have you written anything I’d know?”
He shrugs. “That depends. Do you read?”
“The last novel I read was a Zane Grey Uncle Shawn gave me. He’s a fan of westerns.” I tilt my head and tap my chin. “You’re not Zane Grey are you?”
Kit laughs, his whole face lighting up. “Thankfully not, or I’d be dead. And westerns aren’t my thing.”
“What is your thing?”
“Mysteries,” he replies before bringing his mug to his mouth.
I can’t help chuckling, earlier conversations about Kit echoing in my mind.
He raises a brow.
“Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious,” I say in response to the unasked question.
“I’m not following.”
“It’s how Georgia referred to you—”
“You were talking about me?” He frowns, dark brows drawn over his blue eyes.
I huff a laugh. “Of course. This is a small town. Everyone talks about everyone. I was telling Georgia about you—” Fuck! Now I sound like he’s been on my mind. So much for playing it cool. My cheeks heat so I quickly change the subject back to him. “Anyway, are you working on anything at the moment? I saw you had a laptop open, and I’ve seen you scribbling away in the notebook.”
He looks to the fire for a moment, then turns back with a half-smile. “The words aren’t exactly flowing right now.”
“Writer’s block?”
Kit nods. “I was hoping the change of scene and lack of interruptions would be good for my creativity.”
“And it’s not working?”
He ponders for a moment, as if he’s weighing up his response. “I’ve started a new romance novel.”
“Really?”
“Don’t look so surprised. There’s a lot of inspiration around here.” He holds my gaze, his voice gravelly.
Is he flirting? I want to retort with something witty, maybe test the waters, so to speak, but words fail me. “What’s your story about?”
“Broken hearts and second chances.”
“It sounds sad.”
“Ah, but it’s a romance.” Kit smiles and relaxes against the couch, arm slung along the back, fingers toying with the fringe of the blanket folded there. “The story is guaranteed a happily ever after.”
I angle myself to face him, one foot tucked under my butt. He talks more about his story, becoming animated as he describes his characters. It sounds as if he’s talking about friends, not fictional people. He’s obviously passionate about writing, and I’m equally drawn to Kit and the love story he’s bringing to life. I could listen to him talk all night.
