I can’t help but smile back at him. “My lawyer’s idea of a stimulating day is filling out the crossword puzzle in ink.”
“Creed does that every Sunday.”
“Really? That kind of doesn’t surprise me.” I grab the cake dish with the slice of chocolate cake that was left over from yesterday and two forks. “Creed could hold his own with my friends. It was impressive.” I break off a bite of cake with my fork and place it in my mouth.
Bliss.
It’s sheer and utter bliss.
“That good?”
No.
No.
No, I didn’t just do something stupid in front of this man again. “Cordelia made it. It’s worth dying for. Literally.” I slide the crystal dish over. “Oh, no. I forgot the plates. I’m sorry.”
“Relax, it’s fine. There’s no need to dirty a dish.” He breaks off a piece with his own fork. “So you’re friends with The Cake Lady.”
“Cordelia thinks it’s funny that the town calls her that. But yeah, I’ve known her since boarding school.” I wink at him.
“You aren’t ever going to let that go, are you?” He smiles.
“Me? Of course not. It’s a woman’s job to make sure a man remembers every one of his mistakes in vivid detail. Especially since you’ve seen the skeleton in my closet.”
“He looked a little plump for a skeleton.”
““Touché”
“My ex was beautiful, like one of those lipstick vipers who are so sweet and pretty looking, that you can’t believe they could ever harm a soul, but they’re really deadly.”
It seems we all have war stories. “That bad?”
He looks me dead in the eyes as he says, “Worse than you could ever imagine.”
“So that’s why you’re afraid of women?”
“Beautiful women scare me, especially ones that I’m instantly attracted to.”
What did he just say? I…um…wow. How do I respond?
“It seems I haven’t grown out of the twelve-year-old stage, but my son has.”
Creed…Talking about Creed is a safe topic. “Was he ever a twelve-year-old? Because that boy acts more mature than most grown men I know.”
“Not really. Though there was this one time on his dirt bike…”
Nothing And Everything
Havoc
“So then he fell—” The rumble of a well-tuned motorcycle carries through into her kitchen. “Creed!” How is that possible? He doesn’t get home until six. The clock on her wall reads twenty after. We’ve been talking for hours.
About nothing and everything.
It’s the best afternoon I’ve had in…too long for me to remember. “I was supposed to have already started dinner.”
“Oh, of course.” Greer stands up, and all the relaxed vibes evaporate. She reaches for the empty cake plate and my flute. “I’m sorry for dist—”
