Though I hope he will.
I find him reading on the back porch, laid back on the chair, long legs propped on the banister. He could be a model for Reader’s Digest, lifestyle edition.
“Yes?”
His low voice snaps me out of the trance and the courage to give him what I bought dissipates in the evening breeze.
My silence must annoy him, and he plops the open book on the table.
“What is it, Eliza?”
He says my name in his deep upper-class voice, sending tingles swarming under my skin, and in a moment of complete insanity I hold out the bag with my death sentence in it.
He doesn’t reach out to take it.
“It’s for you,” I manage to squeeze out. “I noticed…umm…I mean I saw them at the store…and umm…thought you might need them.”
Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all. I did great. Except he’s still in his chair figuring out what’s wrong with me.
I give it one more go before I make myself lost in the wilderness and only come out when the locals leave offerings for the mythical wood lady. I hope it will be chocolate and fluffy socks.
This will work better if I stare at my nails. Less distracting.
“You don’t have to wear them if you hate them. I know they’re not the designer pants you’re used to. You’re going to stay some time here and I thought it might be more comfortable to—”
Large warm hands cover mine and he slowly slides the bag’s handles from the death grip of my fingers.
“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”
His words caress the top of my head and I look up to see amusement dancing in his grayish-blue eyes. They’re lighter today, resembling the feathers of a Gnatcatcher glinting in the summer sun.
My mouth is bone dry. I fear dust will come out instead of my reply. “You’re welcome.”
He smiles and I’m lost for words. Carter grabs his book and returns inside, leaving me behind in the chilly spring late evening.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here, cooling off, when the back door creaks open and Carter’s head pops out. “I’m cooking. Care to keep me company?”
Perched on the seat of the kitchen island, I’m at a loss for what to do with myself to stop from staring at him. I either made the biggest mistake of my life and he’ll drive me crazy, or I should be given the Nobel Prize.Humanity will forever be grateful for my success in making Carter wear gray sweatpants and the black T-shirt I also got.
It will be written in my obituary. My great service to humankind.
The tailor-made clothes make him look delicious, but this casual Carter makes my pulse spike. His muscles tense when he stirs the pan above the flames, and you’d think I’ve never seen a man’s forearm before.
He lowers the intensity of the stove and looks straight at me with the air of a man waiting for an answer.
“Did you say something?” I play it cool, but my traitorous face is at 75% tomato by now.
He crosses his arms over that solid chest and like a brainless puppet, I follow the movement, noticing the details of his wide frame. The chiseled cords rippling with the slow rise and fall of his torso. His aggravated look is my cue to switch on coherent-Eliza mode.
“Yes?”
“Can you get started with the salad? I’m almost done with the meat.”
I only nod because the rich velvety tone of his voice lands differently than usual. It unsettles me. I have to keep my head on straight and not let myself be swept up by a silly schoolgirl crush.
“It’s one of the nicest gifts I ever got,” he says, pouring water in my glass.
I can’t help but laugh. “I highly doubt it.”
