“Was I?”
“No. But I’d like to sit down.”
“Look at me.”
She took that breath again, then lifted her gaze to his. “You’re angry.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not sure what I am, but I’m not mad.”
“You don’t want me.”
“Do I have to answer that question again, and if so, will I need an ambulance when your dog gets done with me?”
“I…oh. Oh.” He heard the humiliation in the sound as she closed her eyes and nodded. “I understand. I was too blunt, too matter-of-fact. I should have waited for you to approach the subject, or, failing that, I shouldn’t have been so calculating. I’d really like to sit down.”
He let her go, sat beside her. “First, I’ve got nothing but good feelings about the idea you’re willing to go to bed with me. The problem, on my side, is having the feeling you’re handling it like a chore you want to cross off your to-do list.”
Exactly true, she thought, in delivery and intent. “I’m sorry. I thought it was the right approach. You’re not angry, but you’re at least a little insulted. I am sorry.” She gathered enough courage to look at him. “I know approach matters to some people. I know that. This was as poorly presented and demeaning as the woman in Ozark Art.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. And I hoped you’d reconsider at some point.”
“I wasn’t going to, then…I was nervous, and I mishandled it.”
“Nervous?”
“This isn’t how I usually…I don’t know how to explain.”
“Not without telling me more than you want to. All right. Let’s try this. We’ll finish this glass of wine, and you’ll show me the greenhouse. We’ll see how things go from there.”
“I’m not good with seeing how things go.”
“I’m real good at it. Let’s give it a try. If you don’t like how they go, we can always do things your way. I figure I can’t lose.”
“You mean you’d have sex either way.”
He laughed again, reached out and took her hand for a squeeze. “What a woman. Let’s just see—damn it.” Hebroke off when his cell phone rang. “Hold that thought. Yeah, Ash, what’s the problem?”
She saw his face change as he listened, saw it go quiet and a little hard. “No, you did right. I’m on my way. You wait, you hear? Wait until I get there.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Abigail as he closed the phone.
“It’s all right.” But she didn’t look at him as she rose to pick up the plates.
“This kind of thing is part of the package,” he began.
“I understand that, of course. But you’re off duty.”
“So I must be using it as an excuse? No.” Gently, he laid a hand on her arm. “No, Abigail. This particular problem is one I ordered whoever got the call on it—which was inevitable—to contact me. On or off duty. I need to handle this situation.”
“I see. I do understand.”
“I’d like to come back.”
“You don’t have to feel—”
“Abigail, I’d like to come back, if I can. If I can’t, I’ll call you. I’m not sure which it’s going to be.”
“Because you have to see how it goes.”
