“How about you follow me home? I have dinner ready in the slow cooker and I’m sure there’s enough for two,” he suggested.
“I don’t want to take your food,” I protested. When he suggested a decent meal, I’d assumed he meant we could stop to pick up something on the way to his place. I also wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of a more intimate evening with Shiloh when I smelled like a long day of work.
“Teddy, it’s fine. Sure, dinner is different from baking, but I like feeding people.” While I could have argued, I found that I didn’t want to. For once, I wanted to take a leap and see where I landed. “Please, eat my food.”
As we drove away from the bakery a little while later, I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and trepidation about the evening ahead. I knew I was still healing from my divorce, but something about Shiloh made me want to take a risk. Hell, the way he looked at me, the way he reacted at lunch when I insisted he stop working long enough to eat made it impossible to not see where things might lead.
I parked next to Shiloh in his driveway, feeling both eager and anxious. I inhaled deeply as we were hit with the scent of garlic and other savory spices as soon as he opened the front door.
“Come on in,” he said warmly, stepping aside to let me enter. “It smells like dinner’s ready.”
I followed him into the kitchen. He buzzed around the small space, pulling plates out of the cupboard and silverware from the drawer. I took them from the counter, needing to feel like I was contributing something to the meal. “Do you want me to set the—”
It was then that I looked around the space and noticed Shiloh didn’t have a table. He didn’t have much of anything, really.
“We’ll have to eat in the living room,” Shiloh explained. “We’ll fill our plates and take them out there if that’s okay with you.”
“More than,” I assured him. I wasn’t sure what other option there was. I surveyed the space, noticing how few possessions Shiloh had.
I didn’t ask about the simplicity of his home, not wanting to make him feel bad. I knew he worried about money, so there was a chance he’d put his pennies into the business rather than a comfortable home. “Do you want me to do anything?”
“No, I’ve got everything handled in here.” He grabbed the plates, filling one with a modest portion and the other mounded high with meat and potatoes. “Do you want anything to drink?”
I pulled a bottle of water out of my back pocket. “Nope, got what I need right here. How about you? You should drink some water, too. Even if it wasn’t hot, you were working hard today.”
I worried he might feel I was overstepping but the only times I’d seen him drink anything today were when I’d brought it up.
“You’re probably right. Head into the living room and I’ll be right there.” I picked up his plate, carrying it along with mine, setting both down on the makeshift coffee table.
As I waited for him, I started thinking up different pieces I could build that would make the space look more like a home than simply four walls with a roof to keep him dry at night.
We shared a delicious meal, laughing and talking about everything from our favorite movies to our most embarrassing childhood memories. It felt like the attraction between us had melted away any lingering tension from our workday, leaving us free to just enjoy each other’s company.
As the evening wore on, Shiloh turned on the gas fireplace, creating a warm glow in the room. The atmosphere and the warmth of the fire made it feel like we were in our own little world, safe from the rest of the world outside.
At one point, our conversation turned to our past relationships. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I was ready to share the details of my divorce with Shiloh. But something about the genuine concern in his eyes made me feel like I could trust him with my deepest fears and vulnerabilities.
“I’m sure you’ve heard I went through a shitty divorce just over a year ago,” I admitted, my voice wavering slightly. There was no way he hadn’t heard in a town this small. “No, I take that back. The divorce itself wasn’t bad, that was actually incredibly amicable. The problem was we’d been together nearly thirty years and neither of us had wanted to admit we were better off as friends than partners.”
Shiloh listened attentively, his eyes filled with empathy. “I’m so sorry, Teddy. I can’t even imagine being with someone that long and then poof, they’re gone.”
“Yeah, not fun at all,” I agreed, my throat tightening at the memory. “But I’m trying to move forward and learn from the experience. I just… I guess what I’m trying to say here is I’m not sure how to do this.”
“Do what?” Shiloh seemed genuinely confused. He scooted a bit closer to me on the couch, still maintaining enough distance to pass off as nothing more than friendly yet close enough for either of us to make the first move.
I buried my face in my hands, letting out a stifled groan. I was botching this all up. When I looked back at him, the tender concern in his eyes unraveled me. He made it easy to open up to him.
“See, I told you I’m horrible at this.” I let out a weak chuckle. I wanted to cup his cheek, draw him close enough to press my lips to his. “Am I wrong in feeling like there’s a connection here, Shiloh? What I was trying and failing to say is I like you, and if you’re interested, I’d like to see if there could be something more between us than just friends who hang out after working on the remodel.”
Shiloh reached out, his hand resting gently on my knee. “You’re too hard on yourself. That wasn’t bad at all.”
Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like there was an unspoken agreement between us. We were both scared, but maybe, just maybe, we were willing to take a chance on each other.
The problem was, I had no clue what came next. I didn’t want to upset him by admitting I wasn’t ready to jump into anything, no matter how much my dick insisted his bed was the only place we needed to go from here.
Luckily, it seemed Shiloh read my mind yet again. He leaned in, giving me a gentle peck on the cheek. My head lolled to the side, pressing against his palm. “For what it’s worth, I like you, too, Teddy. And if it wasn’t for the fact it’s a bad idea mixing business and pleasure, I’d probably climb into your lap for an epic make-out session. If you don’t mind sticking a pin in this, maybe we can see what happens after the work is done?”
While he made a valid point, that didn’t mean I had to like it. I stood, needing to call it a night before I did something stupid like ask him to change his mind. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
