The sharp pain that stabs me to the left of my belly button makes me think I might have just spontaneously ovulated. I’m not sure I’d make a great mom, but I’m convinced Thomas would make a great dad. He’s kind, funny, tall, gorgeous … Not that you have to be tall and gorgeous to be a good dad, but it certainly helps your spouse want to procreate with you. Especially, if that spouse is me.Talk about getting ahead of myself …
I force my brain not to start thinking about making babies with Thomas. Heck, we haven’t even been on our first date yet. I don’t count fake dates, or friendly get-togethers. Our first date will be official when/if Thomas asks me out and then kisses me at my doorstep when he brings me home. I’m old fashioned that way.
Thomas reaches out and snaps his fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “You in there, Finley?”
Just thinking about making babies with you.“I was just distracted by the beautiful sunset,” I lie. “But yes, I’m here. Did you say something?”
“I said I’d be happy to help you out tonight. Are we painting? Ripping up carpet? What do you have in mind?”
“Fluffing feathers,” I tell him.
The look he gives me is comical. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I just got a big box of ostrich feathers in and they arrived pretty smooshed,” I explain. “They need to be fluffed before they can be used.”
“How do you use ostrich feathers?” he asks, sounding totally baffled.
“I use the pink and baby blue for infant shots.” Wiggling all ten of my fingers, I explain, “I fan them on the ground and then place the baby on top of them. People love that.”
“Huh.” He’s clearly having a hard time envisioning this, so I make a mental note to show him some pictures.
“They also come in handy for the boudoir shots.” I shrug my eyebrows at him suggestively. “Maybe you’d like a naughty maid photo for your calendar.” Thomas audibly chokes when he hears that. I reach over and pound on his back.
“I’m not sure I can see myself in a little maid outfit,” he says.
Giggling at the thought, I tell him, “We’d make you more of a manservant. You know, shirtless, carrying drinks on a silver tray.”
“Where do the feathers come in?”
“I could make you a nice feather duster with them.”
He looks alarmed. “I think I’ll stick with the more basic shots.”
I check the clock on the dashboard of my vintage dream ride and it’s already six. “We’d better head back then. If I order supper now, we should be able to get some good work done.”
“What should we get?” he asks before adding, “As you know, I’ve had the diner food twice but haven’t tried anything else yet.”
“It’s Wednesday,” I tell him.
“What does that have to do with dinner?” He slowly backs out of his parking space and doesn’t stop until he hits the guardrail behind him.
“Don’t ding my ride before I buy her from you,” I scold.
“Sorry about that.” Putting the car into drive, he says, “I’m used to having a backup camera in cars that I rent..”
“When do your lessons start?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. Now that I’m moving to nights, I might have to see if the instructor can fit me in for private lessons.” He glancesat me briefly before asking, “What does Wednesday have to do with what you eat for dinner.”
“Wednesday is pasta night,” I tell him. “So I think we should order Italian.”
Thomas pulls back onto the road slowly. “Sounds good to me. What’s your favorite pasta dish?”
I really don’t want to tell him, but if we’re going to be eating together, he’s going to find out. I inhale deeply hoping for a shot of courage. “I like angel hair pasta with butter.”
“What kind of sauce?”
“Butter,” I repeat.
