“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have overstepped.” I said, watching for her reaction and hoping I didn’t cross too much of a line.
“Please don’t be sorry. I’m certainly not.” Mira flashed me a cheeky grin.
“You’re not?”
“No. In fact, I’ve wanted you to kiss me since the moment you stepped onto my porch.”
I chuckled. “So have I.”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested. I mean, I’m at least ten years older than you.”
“You are?”
“Your profile on Mountain Mates said you’re twenty-four, correct?”
“That am I. You are what, twenty-nine? Thirty?”
Mira broke into a fit of laughter. “Aw, thank you. That’s flattering.”
“I’m wrong?”
“Afraid so. Add a few more years.”
“Fine, thirty-four. Thirty-five at the most.”
“Wrong again.”
“What? Thirty-six? Seven?”
Mira shook her head, and my jaw went slack.
“Thirty-eight?”
“Close. Thirty-nine.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“I don’t believe it.” I mused while running my eyes down her frame, making sure she noticed me checking her out. “You look damn fucking good for only thirty-nine.”
“Only? Wow, you flatter me, kind sir.”
“It’s the truth. Besides,” I dropped my voice a note lower and leaned forward. “Age is just a number. What matters is the love between two people, not how old they are.”
Mira smiled. “I like the way you think. Can I invite you to stay for dinner, then?”
“I’d love to.”
Over a dinnerof homemade pizza and salad, we discovered everything there was to know about the other. Conversation flowed between us like two old friends catching up after years apart. It was easy to talk to her, and I revealed a lot more to her than I ever have to anyone before. The strangest part?
I already trusted her.
“Were you shocked when you inherited the entire orchard?” I finished my second piece of pizza and went in for a third.
“Yes, to say the least. I never knew my father. My single mom raised me, and she worked two jobs to keep us afloat. It was always just me and her. Through thick and thin. Then, in my junior year of high school, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It nearly killed me watching her go through that. And when she died, I promised her I’d make a good life for myself. I went to college and got a degree in communications and now I do freelance journalism. I love it.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom. But it sounds like you proved yourself. I know she’d be so proud.”
