Rigidly organized solicitor of opinions. It fit the Finn he remembered.
“I assume you want to know more than ‘smells good’ or ‘nah’?”
She leveled a look over the rim of her University of Illinois at Chicago mug. “If you mock my profession, I’ll douse you with the perfume while you sleep. Between you and me, it reeks.”
Tom grinned, delighted that she was teasing him. When she chose to engage, her whole demeanor changed. Her lips pressed together with humor, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. He decided to push his luck. “Want to work out here? Keep me company?”
The crinkles disappeared, replaced with apprehension. Then the line between her eyes relaxed. “Actually, yes. The desk in my room is a little cramped.”
After she fetched her work materials, they toiled side by side at the kitchen table for hours, silent but for the click of their fingers on their keyboards and the instrumental alternative Spotify station they’d agreed on. Tom would occasionally glance up to catch a glimpse of her brow furrowed in thought. She’d left her hair loose, and the dark strands fell forward when she shifted closer to her screen. As the afternoon wore on, he found himself getting distracted from his edits by the thought of pulling her close to tangle his fingers in the silky length.
He couldn’t stop looking at her, and she remained frustratingly unaware. The more things changed, and all that jazz.
The sky was dark behind the windows when Finn finally caught him staring at her. He affected a bored look, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he’d been watching her worry her lower lip with her sharp little teeth and imagining it washislip she was nibbling on.
Her eyes widened, her cheeks pinked, and she lurched from her chair. Not so unaware after all, apparently.
“Look at the time!” she blurted, her gaze sliding over his shoulder to the coffee-cup-shaped clock over the sink. “I’m starving. Are you starving?”
Tom blinked slowly, aware she was thinking about a different kind of hunger. “Always. I always want something to eat.” He kept his tone light so the double entendre wouldn’t be as obvious to her as it was in his suddenly pulsating brain.
“Okay. It won’t be fancy,” she warned as she turned to rummage through the freezer. “Keep working. It’ll be ready in a bit.”
Tom wrapped up the last edits on the page as she clattered around with the microwave, and when he joined her at the counter to ask if she needed any help, she waved a plate under his nose. Tom did a double take in astonishment.
“Are those… Oh my God, did you makechili dogs?”
She shrugged. “We had some Nathan’s Famous in the freezer.”
He gripped her upper arms. “You’re the perfect woman, and this is the perfect kitchen. I think I live here now.”
He could tell the compliment pleased her by the way she smiled at him without dipping her chin or sliding her eyes away.
“You’re ridiculous. Sit down.”
She was relaxing in his presence. He saw the starch leaching from her spine. Now to keep the momentum going.
“So, are you an ‘all food stays in the kitchen’ household?”
“God, no. That couch is mostly made up of Josie’s pizza stains.” She glanced toward the living room furniture.
“Don’t you think it’s a shame to let that TV stay unwatched much longer?” he wheedled.
“Well, itisFriday night. Couch, TV, and dinner is my traditional ‘unplug your brain and celebrate because it’s the end of the week’ activity.”
“Excellent. Wine?”
Another hesitation, and in the end, she shook her head no, so he snagged them each bottles of water from the fridge. She settled on the couch, and he lowered himself into the easy chair he’d occupied the day before, hooking an ankle around the ottoman to bring it close enough to prop his feet on.
She sat with her legs curled underneath her, her plate in her lap, and flipped on the TV.
“What’ll it be?” He was curious what TV time looked like for Finn. When he’d known her in high school, she’d worked two after-school jobs and barely had time to sleep, let alone consume pop culture.
She pointed the remote. “Actually, I’m in the middle of watchingBarbarian Time Brigands.”
After a startled second, he threw his head back in laughter. “You? Little Miss Sci-Fi Is For Dorks?”
“I never said that!” she insisted over his hooting. “Did I?”
