Page 40 of Solo

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I put the bacon back on my plate, clear my throat, and swallow.

“Uh, well,” I begin, stalling for some divine inspiration. The last thing I want is to go back to square one. The nasty square. The square where he’s mean and I’m defensive and angry and we hate one another. But The Divine leaves me hanging, so I cock my head to the side and scrutinize his expression.

“Oh, come on,” I say at last. “You know why.”

“I assure you, Katherine, I do not,” he says, suddenly rigid.

And there it is. That formal, tight-ass tone that I know so well. I sigh and shift my mindset back into guarded mode.

“Dr. Markham,” I begin, my tone letting him know that two can play this game. “Had I not fallen asleep in my car, I would have walked down the hill to Main Street and tried to hitch a ride closer to home.”

He stares at me, unblinking, for what feels like an eternity.

“In flip-flops? Really?”

I nod soberly. “Yes. Waiting for a snowplow was Plan A. Walking down the hill was Plan B.”

“And asking for my help…?”

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. He wants to know? Well, then I’m going to tell him.

“Truthfully, I’d have asked every single one of your neighbors on every street in this development before I would have come to your door.”

“But that makes absolutely no sense.” he murmurs, looking baffled by this confession.

“Doesn’t it?”

“I mean, I know we’ve had our differences…”

It’s all I can do to keep from snorting in his face.

“Our differences?” I echo disbelievingly. “Dr. Markham, there is nothing that you have said or done over the last five-and-a-half years that would lead me to believe you would help me. You can say what you like now—now that we’ve shared a few intimate moments and had our little heart-to-heart last night, but we both know that you would have found a reason to fail me had that paper not been in your mailbox by five o’clock. I could have been banging on your door, begging you to accept it, and you probably would have left me standing on your porch in the cold.”

He’s shaking his head, opening his mouth to object, but I hold up a finger for him to stop. He does.

“Come on,” I say softly, conspiratorially. “You know it. I know it. It’s just the two of us here now. Let’s call it what it is for once.” I sit back again and take a deep breath, putting a lighter expression on my face. “I can’t blame you. Even if I didn’t look so much like your—like Casey—it’s like you said. I can be prickly and defensive. I can be a difficult person. I’ll own that. But I guess I just never did understand what it was I’d done to make you have so much…” I cast around my brain for the word and then find it. “…disdain for me.”

With that, I pick up my cup and look down into it, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Bracing myself for the blowup that is sure to come. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll loan me boots and a coat when he kicks my ass out of here.

But he doesn’t speak. Unable to keep my head down any longer, I finally look up to find him staring at me, brows drawn together in supreme confusion. At last, he takes a deep breath and stands up, taking my now empty plate from the table.

“Did you have enough to eat?” he asks over his shoulder.

Oh shit.

I nod curtly. “Uh, yes. Yes, thank you.”

I put my elbows on the table, close my eyes, and rub my temples with my fingers. The headache is starting to resurface.

“Are you all right?”

My eyes fly open and I jump at the sound of his voice right behind me. My breath picks up. It’s unnerving having him so close to me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he rushes to apologize.