“Sorry I’m late.” With a grocery bag tucked in his arm, he walked to the porch. “I had a couple things come up.”
“It’s all right.”
“Hey, Bert.” Casually, Brooks rubbed a hand over Bert’s head as he walked into the house, then he shifted his angle, laid his lips on Abigail’s. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I can take the bag to the kitchen.”
“I’ve got it.” He nodded toward the wine on the counter as he set the bag down. “Nice.”
“You said steak. This should go well with red meat.”
“Good, because I’ve got a couple of fat New York strips in here.”
“You didn’t say what you wanted to have with the steaks, so I wasn’t sure what to fix.”
“Nothing. I’ve got it.” He pulled out two boat-sized potatoes and a bag of salad mix.
“What is that?” Abigail tapped the bag.
“Salad. It’s a bag o’ salad.”
“Bag o’ salad.” Despite the nerves, her lips curved. “I have plenty of fresh vegetables for salad.”
“That you have to chop up and so on. The beauty of bag o’ salad is it’s already done. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get the potatoes on.”
She didn’t think she should sit. She hadn’t practiced sitting down. “Would you like to have our discussion before dinner?”
“Do we only get one?”
“I’m sorry?”
He glanced back at her as he took the potatoes to the sink to scrub. “Only one discussion? How about we talk before dinner, during, even after.”
“Well, yes, of course. But the discussion of the situation. Should we have that now, or would you prefer to wait until dinner?”
“What situation?”
“You and I…This social connection. The interpersonal relationship.”
He set the potatoes on the counter, and with a smile so warm it made something inside her ache, he took her face in his hands. “ ‘Interpersonal relationship.’ I’m next door to crazy about you.” He kissed her, strong, long, until the ache spread. “Would you mind pouring me some of that wine?”
“I…yes. No, I mean, I don’t mind pouring the wine. We need to discuss—”
“You know, ‘discuss’ sounds like we’re going to get into politics.” He frowned at the oven for a moment, then set it to bake the potatoes. “Why don’t we stick with ‘talk’?”
“All right. We need to talk.”
“About our social connection and interpersonal relationship.”
In reflex, her back stiffened. “You’re making fun of me.”
“A little. These are going to take a little while. Maybe we could go sit down. I could build us a fire.”
Too cozy, she thought. “Brooks.”
“So you can say it.”
“Say it?”
