Page 12 of Baby, It’s Hot Inside

I shiver and hold my breath a bit waiting to see if he does anything else. I’ve never had casual sex. Jeff and I waited until we’d dated a couple of weeks before we did it. So I don’t really know how this is done.

He steps away from me. “Do you want the grand tour now or after we eat?”

I glance around enough to see that while this apartment is very nice and modern, it’s a studio, just one big open space with two doors off to the back—the bathroom and closet, I’m assuming. I laugh. It’s really nice. A little too nice for a holiday stay, but it’s been so long since he’s been home, maybe he’s planning to stay for an extended period. I know that’s how Europeans do things. Their vacations are always a couple of months it seems.

“I like the exposed brick and beams.”

“Yeah, me too. Reminds me of a couple of places I’ve stayed in France.” He leads me over to the kitchen area and helps me onto a bar stool. “I don’t have room for a table so this will have to do.”

“It’s perfect. I think is bigger than my apartment. It’s definitely nicer. Then again I am a public school teacher.” My eyes go to the far side of the room where an enormous king-sized bed sits. Covered in all white linens it looks like something out of a luxury hotel. I look back at him to find him watching me. He hands me a plate and then settles on the barstool next to me with his own.

We eat in silence for a few moments.

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s good. Adjusting to his new blood pressure medicine which I guess can make him a little tired while his body gets used to it.” I take a few more bites. “This is really delicious. I’ve never had a man cook for me before.” Then I wince. “Gah, I’m really bad at that. Just saying whatever is on my mind. Oversharing, people have called it.”

He frowns, glances at me. “Doesn’t seem like oversharing to me. We’re not exactly strangers. And I like hearing about you.”

“Jeff always told me I talked too much and that no one needed to know every thought that came to mind.”

“Jeff sounds like a dumbass.”

I grin at him. “That’s what Annie calls him.”

“It’s refreshing that you’re honest. And that you’re not pretending to be someone you aren’t. I can tell you from experience that that is exhausting.”

“So how long are you staying?” I ask.

“Staying?”

“Here? In Sand Dollar?”

He swallows, then takes a sip of his wine. “Didn’t your mom tell you? I’m back. For good.”

The food I’ve just swallowed forms a knot in my throat and I take a swig of water to keep from choking. “Uh, no, she must have forgotten to mention it.” Danger, Will Robinson. I’m on a date. An actual date. This can’t be a short holiday fling. He’s not leaving. He’s here to stay. I slowly exhale to try and slow my heart rate.

“The old shoe store below,” he continues. “I bought it. I’m turning it into an art gallery to showcase mostly local artists. Sculpture, jewelry, photography, you name it, I want to feature it.

“Here in our podunk beach town?”

“Yep. I want to bring a little bit of European charm here. It’ll work. Promise.” He rubs his hand at the back of his neck. “I’m already working on getting a little cafe opened down there too. It’ll be a whole experience. We’ve got a great historic downtown.”

“So you’re here to stay. And this is your actual apartment?”

His brow furrows. “Did you think I was just blowing through town?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

We finish eating while he tells me about the layout of the gallery and his vision for it.

I’m only half listening. Not because I’m not interested, I am. I’m already thinking of how the school could have field trips there and maybe featured artists could come and talk to my class. But mostly I’m trying to figure out what to do about tonight. I came here with the intention of sleeping with him. But I’d planned on something brief. Something too fast for me to develop feelings because the last time I fell for a guy he broke my heart. And I know that Brock could do way more damage.

“Do you want more wine?” he asks.

I nod and he fills my glass with the golden-colored wine. “This is really delicious.”

“Dessert? I didn’t make anything, but I’ve got some gelato we could share.”