His brows lift slightly.
Warmth spreads across my face. “I mean—I have stain remover, and I can wash them for you. I’m sure you haven’t had time to get laundry detergent or anything, so it’s the least I can do.”
Henry looks at me while he contemplates my offer. Small wrinkles decorate the space between his eyebrows as his lips press into a thin line.
“Okay,” he replies.
“Really?” I ask but immediately bite my lip. “I mean, great! I need to let Wren know we’re leaving, but then we can head out.”
I take a deep breath and turn away before I can second-guess my decision. This was supposed to be a quick interaction.A drink, a conversation, and a polite goodbye. Instead, I was about to take a man who made my heart hammer way too easily back to my place. Alone.
So much for cooling things off.
“I’m going to go ahead and apologize for the mess now,” I mumble, trying to jam my keys into the lock.
“I’m sure it’s in much better condition than my place. I’m still living out of boxes and most of my stuff hasn’t arrived from the city yet.”
“The city? Do you mean New York City?”
“Yeah,” he says, following me into my dark home. “Shoes on or off?”
The question catches me off guard. I was used to Colt stomping through our old home with his muddy work boots. When I turn on the light and wince at the unruly state of my living room, I say a silent prayer before answering. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you feel comfortable doing.”
Henry takes that as an invitation and toes off his loafers that somehow weren’t affected during the wine spill debacle. He neatly places his shoes near the door, and it makes something tighten in my chest.
I gesture toward the hallway. “You can change in the bathroom down the hall and then I can throw your pants in the wash.”
He nods, but he hesitates with a sheepish smile instead of heading toward the bathroom. “I just realized I don’t have anything to change into. I’m going to run upstairs and change really quick.”
I nod slowly in understanding. I had almost forgotten he lived upstairs. When he makes his timely exit, I collapse onto my couch and throw my head into my hands. I let myselfhover in that position for a fraction of a second before bouncing into action.
Henry had already been exposed to the worst of the mess, but the people pleaser in me wanted to tidy up before he came back down.
I walk over to Milo’s play corner and start tossing toys into a pile. With my son’s tiny tractor clutched in my hand, I realize Henry doesn’t know I’m a mom. Panic flares, followed by relief. Maybe this could be a good way to establish boundaries and splash some cold water on the very real heat blooming between us.
I’m lost in that thought when Henry returns. When he reenters the room, I’m surprised to see he changed into another pair of slacks, not opting for something more comfortable like I would have suspected.
“You were a little dressed up for a dive bar, don’t you think?” I say, thinking back to earlier tonight.
Henry responds with a deep laugh that feels like a drug. “When Knox told me he was taking me out, I was not expecting the Rustic Inn.”
“Okay, now I’m certain you’re not from around here.” I smile and take the pair of soggy pants hanging from his arm. “I liked your outfit though. Most of the men around here do not know how to dress themselves. They wear the same pair of jeans until the crotch rips out.”
“It wasn’t too pretentious?” he mocks, following me to the kitchen.
My entire face heats up at the reminder of our second meeting of the night. I busy myself by searching for the stain remover in one of the cabinets. “Again, very sorry. And I’m sorry about the pants. I would have paid to have them dry cleaned.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone this concerned over a spilled drink.”
“I know. It’s just your pants are very nice. I hate to think that I’m the reason why they’re not perfect anymore.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing perfect about me,” he jokes. When I turn, I briefly catch his eyes pointed at the ground and his smile deflated into a straight line. When he notices my stare, his face snaps back into a gentle and welcoming smile.
“It might be too soon, but how about a glass of wine?”
Henry mockingly places a hand over his heart, and his face contorts in pain. “The pants aren’t even cold yet, Emma.”
I bite my lip, trying to conceal a laugh that feels too intimate amongst mere strangers. I shake my head and grab two glasses out of the cabinet, pouring us both a generous glass. He accepts the gesture with a nod, and I excuse myself to throw his pants in the washer.
