She points her fork at me. “Oat milk is all the rage.”
Stretching my arms over my head, I take in the fact that I haven’t had a Sunday this laidback in a long time. “Sure. But your music tastes could be improved. Let’s establish the whoever drives picks the music rule.”
She scowls, but then it eases. “Fine.”
My eyes lower to a table nearby where a giant dog with golden-brown fur is lying on the ground near a bowl of water that the café has for dogs. “Damn, he’s gorgeous.”
Esme glances over her shoulder to get a peek. “Wow, he is. I wish the fireman that came had a dog. Fire dogs are a thing, right? I was deprived a hot fireman and a cute dog, damn it.”
I throw her the death stare. “Whoa there, cowgirl, you might want to take that back.”
She smiles at me. “Only the fire dog part.”
Quickly, I ask the couple what type of dog he is, and it’s a golden retriever mixed with a Newfoundland dog. “I don’thave time for a dog, but he would be a good contender if I did.”
“Ah, so you are a dog person. Your soft soul is almost too sweet,” Esme teases.
Shaking my head, I take the last sip of my coffee, but I don’t want this all to end. “I think it’s really good that you are not in complete misery after the fire.”
Her smile slips away. “Well, I don’t have much choice. In the end, I’m alive, right?”
The moment turns serious, but perhaps it should. “Still, you lost a kitchen, half of your living room, and pictures. It can’t be easy.”
She rolls a shoulder back. “My only option is to be optimistic. But it does hurt to have had this happen.”
“That’s a feeling you are allowed to have.”
She sighs, and her eyes zip up to mine, not blinking once. “You were quite adamant that I didn’t run in… Thank you.”
I don’t enjoy the constant thank-yous. “It was nothing. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”
“I guess I would have,” she admits. Her fingers weave through her hair. “I’m sorry I was a pain in the ass the past few months.”
The line of my mouth stretches. “I think I win the prize for being the resident jerk. The number of times I stormed across my yard by far outdoes your times.”
Esme shrugs. “Flirtation does silly things to people. I wonder who won the neighborhood betting pool?”
I laugh under my breath. “Probably Oliver.”
“I think so too.” That unusual silence returns to us. “We are not labeling anything, are we? I mean, anyone could walk down Main Street right now and see that you and I are… together?” Her voice rises an octave.
I lean into the table and onto my arms. “That’s not aproblem for me, is it for you?” No man gets to look at her the way I do. Nobody gets to think she needs a man and needs to be set up with someone. We might be in the oddest situation, but I was right the other week, and I don’t share. I make claims.
“Not a problem for me, either.” Her wide smile is do damn infectious; how can I not join her on that? She reaches across the table to touch my hand. “Want to head back to your place to drop the groceries off? I might have an idea.”
My brow rises and my interest is piqued. “Oh yeah?”
She stands up and offers me her hand. “I’m going to go pay, and I’ll meet you at the car.”
“Not a chance. I’m a gentleman.”
“And you’re being kind by providing me a roof.”
I yank her back when her feet move. “Trust me, my overtime billable hours for the Spinners mean I have money to spare on a thousand coffees.”
Her eyes pop out. “Someone is conceited. But fine, I won’t argue and will instead go wait in your expensive car that I only sometimes hate.”
“Good.”
