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Before he could say anything else, ask about possible dessert since he knew she had a sweet tooth, Pixie once again picked up her phone. The call to her parents turned into a long, drawn-out conversation, filled with angst and commiseration, and was still in progress when Doug got back into the truck after the fifteen minutes it had taken to procure their food.
“Yes, Mom.” Now Pixie rolled her eyes so he could see. “I promise. Now let me off the phone. My cheek hurts, and Doug is back with food.”
He placed the bag between them on the seat, buckled up and started the truck while she extricated herself from the call.
“Uh, huh. I love you, too. I’ll see you late tonight.”
Doug chuckled. “Latetonight, huh?” It was only just going on four o’clock. “You think it will take a bunch of hours for you to get your soup down?” he teased.
“Nope,” she said decisively. Sitting back in her seat, she turned her head to regard him seriously. “I’m hoping that this time nothing will interrupt the conversation you keep saying we’re going to have.”
Well, hell.He’d promised her information, but more importantly, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t hold back any longer.
“Okay, Pixie. We’ll eat, then we’ll talk.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sure, Pixie was tired and sore, but she jumped at the chance to spend more time with Doug. And being out in the sunshine at his cottage seemed far more appealing than sequestering herself in her parents’ house, relegated to the couch or her bedroom.
And despite her pain, with yet another highly volatile incident behind her, she now understood that life was way too short and uncertain, and that she’d spent far too much of hers hiding away. Maybe her seclusion had been necessary for her healing, but the last week had shown her she had the strength to move on; look to the future.
Or had that been Doug?
Honestly, she was pretty sure it was a combination of both, and she wanted nothing more than for the man who was beginning to mean so much to her, to find a way to turn the page onhispast, as well. If he could, they might have a chance at starting some brand-new chapters together. And she hoped they would tell more of a story than just friendship, because Pixie was developing real feelings for the man. She was having a hard time keeping her itchy fingers off him; daydreaming to touch his skin, the perpetual scruff of his chin, and the soft waves in his hair.
Pixie belatedly realized she’d been quiet for too long, but then again, so had Doug. She was becoming more and more used to his long, drawn-out silences, and could almost predict when they were going to happen. At least when he was with her. His flights took him away when she presented him with a quandary such as the one she’d just laid on him. Andhe wasequallydistracted when she used the word friendship. Wasn’t that interesting? Maybe he no longer liked the label of buddies, either. Could he be contemplating that they could eventually be…more?
Pixie gave herself an internal shake.Don’t push the man, she chastised. He has a lot of baggage he needs to unpack, when and if he can. And if all Doug’s silent contemplation got them closer to a status greater than pals? Well, she was all in on that.
But for now, it was time to bring Doug back to the present. “Tell me how long you’ve been working on your cottage,” she inquired. Not the smoothest segue, but she was attempting to appeal to something that mattered to him, and get him out of his head.
An actual crooked smile graced his lips. “I passed papers in January, and as soon as I was able to clear the snow and get up the dirt driveway, I started bringing in materials. Things are moving right along, but you wouldn’t know it to look at the kitchen. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I was able to order appliances to be delivered because the way in was too muddy for a large box-truck. But the dishwasher, stove, and full-sized refrigerator are now paid for and scheduled to arrive in three weeks. Which means I have a lot to do in the kitchen before they get here.”
She remembered he currently had one of those small, dorm fridges that was a joke for what it could fit, and nothing else besides a sink and a skeleton of cabinets. She knew he had to be anxious to upgrade.
“What exactly do you have planned for the kitchen?” she asked.
“I already have all the wood for an oak floor which I plan to install myself. But I can’t do that until I pull down the drop ceiling, then wire for some lights and a stove hood. I’m lousy at sheetrock, so I’ve hired a guy I know to come in and replace the ceiling once I’m ready, then I’ll lay the floor and tile the backsplash. Hopefully I’ll have it all done before my appliances show up so I can pop them right in and be finished.”
“What are you going to do with your cabinets?” she asked.
There’d been a lot of them, if she remembered, with matching ones in a small pantry off the side of the room.
He grimaced. “They’re old, but they’re solid wood, so I’m opting to keep them instead of buying new ones with particle-board construction. Do you think they need work?”
“They’re a little on the worn side,” she informed him tentatively. But he had asked her opinion. “I think they should come down and be sanded, then you can spray-paint them outside where they won’t make a mess.
Doug didn’t look at all put off. “Do you have a color in mind?”
“Are your countertops picked out?” Pixie returned. She was dying to suggest a few things, but didn’t want to step on Doug’s toes if he already had a palette in his head.
He shrugged. “Nope. I hadn’t thought about it. I take it Formica isn’t something I should keep.”
“You can replace it with more, if you want,” she said, understanding budgets. “It’s just that what you’ve got is scuffed and stained.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” he told her, chewing the inside of his cheek. “So far, I’ve bought white tiles, and my appliances are stainless. So…” He cocked a brow at her. “Do you have any suggestions for the counters and cabinets?”
“You know I do,” she grinned. “I’ll show you a few ideas on my phone once we’re settled in with lunch.”
