He doesn’t walk away. His dark chocolate eyes peer down at mine like he has a hundred things to say.
“Okay.” He growls, then mutters to himself, “It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from you.”
“Then stop doing it.” I pop onto my tiptoes, giving him one last kiss before I spin on my heel. If I don’t leave now, I never will. I call over my shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fifteen minutes later I throw my car into park in my driveway. I stopped at the market for a few groceries and a fresh box of consolation Lucky Charms. Adam needs to spend time with his sister, and I need to record the final episode of my flash-in-the-pan podcast. We can see each other tomorrow night. I’ll be okay. I’ve been repeating this to myself—all through the market and on my drive home.
Maybe I’ll sit on my porch steps and gather my thoughts. The sun is starting to peek through again, just in time for sunset. It’sa nice evening. I told myself I’d record the podcast when I got home, but if I’m not inside, I’m not home.
I’m dragging my feet literally and figuratively as I walk toward my front door. It’s one thing to admit I was wrong at a conference table of friends. Recording the words in my own voice and sending them to a mass audience is something else. I need to practice.
I recite my formal announcement as I make my way up the walk. “I was wrong about my Bigfoot sighting,” I mouth. “I fell in love with the guy I mistook for Bigfoot. I lost.”
Huh.
“I lost.” I say the new-to-me words again, out loud this time. I’m pleasantly surprised when they don't make me sad. It’s hard to feel like I’ve lost when I came away from this mess with a guy like Adam. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Stevie?” a male voice comes out of nowhere.
“Gah!” I fling my arms out in a hasty imitation of a karate chop. My grocery bags land on the wet concrete, and my keys fly into the bushes.
Adam is sitting in the shade of my front porch, his arms flung over his knees. He’s still wearing the T-shirt I gave him. Gosh, I love looking at him.
“Sorry I startled you.” He stands, fighting a smile. “I thought you saw me.”
I shake my head. I wonder how much of my podcast rehearsal he heard. “I thought you took Ruth and Sammie home?”
He shakes his head. “When I told her what you were doing, I realized I couldn’t let you do it alone.” He stands, scooping up my groceries. “She dropped me off a few minutes ago.” Handing me my bags, he pokes through the landscaping, presumably in search of my keys.
“Adam?”
“Hmm?” He straightens, dropping my keys in my free hand.
I take in all of him, from the wave of dark brown hair on his forehead to the Bigfoot T-shirt, down to his jeans with a fleck of mud on the hem. Always muddy. I can’t quite say the thing I want to say. “Want to come inside?”
“I do.”
He waits patiently while I unlock my front door and drop my grocery bags on the sideboard. Once my hands are free, he stalks toward me, tall and dark.
I snicker, waving my fingers over his mysterious, looming stature. “You have such a sexy-sasquatch thing going on.”
He growls. Snatching my hand, he tugs me against his chest, sliding his other hand up my back. “Please never say that again,” he murmurs with laughter in his voice. He smooths a hand over my ponytail, peering down into my eyes. “Stevie?”
It’s hard to breathe when he looks at me like that. “Yeah?”
“Can I—Can I help you with your recording?”
I narrow my eyes at Adam. That isn’t what he was going to say, but I’m also not going to turn down this opportunity. This will tie up my podcast with a nice bow. I grin. “I’d love that.”
A few minutes later, I have my computer and microphone set up on my dining room table.
“You’re high tech,” Adam says with a nod to my setup.
I scrunch my face. This is about as basic as a person can get for something like this, but it got the job done on a teacher’s salary. “I usually use this stuff for recording my choir students, but it works.” I shrug.
“That’s cool.” He looks around. “Where do you want me?”
“Right next to me.” From now on, please and thank you.
