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He frowned. “Dragging might be a bit harsh. The right guy will support your dreams. Lots of people travel for work.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want the ties. I want the freedom to run without having to answer to anyone.”
“Maybe if you met someone, you’d change your mind.” He couldn’t imagine her never falling in love. She would probably love better than anyone he knew. There was something about that wild, reckless, plane-jumping side of her that, wound with passionate love, would be bigger than anything.
“It’s not my mind. It’s my heart. It wants what it wants, kind of like yours does.”
Ouch. He didn’t respond, and not just because she’d just performed a mic drop. Rather, he was still stuck on what kind of lover she’d be, and that wasn’t a place he needed to go. But still, he did. Playful, he decided. And wicked. That last part had his groin tightening.
She, thankfully, seemed oblivious.
“Logic can dictate the whole the right guy changes everything theory, but logic can’t change me. And neither will any man, or anyone else. People can want things for you all day long, but that doesn’t make it right for you.” She reached over and lightly touched the back of his hand. “You should understand that better than anyone.”
“I do.” And he hated to admit it, because he felt her emptiness. And her warmth. And he hated that she never planned on sharing that with anyone. Not wanting to feel that loss, he captured her fingers with his. When she gave him a hard look of surprise, he simply wound them tighter. And he didn’t let go until he had to pay for the cab. When he was done, he turned to find her watching him. No surprise there.
He followed her to the front door. “Why in the world do you take the bus when you have a car?”
“Parking is torture near the shelter. In fact, my driveway is probably the closest spot.”
He laughed as she unlocked the door and let him in. “Help yourself to a drink or whatever you want. I need to get out of this shirt.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“And into another one,” she said pointedly. “This one has a wet spot of undetermined origin, and I’m not taking any chances that it’s not drool. I’ll grab my laptop and meet you back here in five.”
By the time she reappeared, he’d helped himself to a glass of water and snagged an iced coffee for her and was waiting for her on the sofa.
Her gaze landed on the coffee. “You’re officially the best date I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
He nodded, distracted. She’d changed from jeans to a pair of loose cotton shorts, and her T-shirt had been replaced with a tank top. He wondered if she would have gone so casual for anyone, or just poor, eternally taken him.
She settled next to him on the sofa, so close their thighs touched, and flipped open her laptop. After logging in, she inserted her memory card and looked up at him. “I really couldn’t have done this without you. You’re a lifesaver.” She frowned. “And that was a terribly unfortunate choice of words.”
“You’re allowed to mention life and death,” he said, wondering again just how often people did this dance around him. After so many years, were they still worried about saying the wrong thing? He was a grown man. He missed Amy, and he wasn’t ready to date, but he didn’t dissolve into tears every time someone alluded to life or death or cancer or marriage. He hadn’t cried in years. Not because he didn’t miss her, but because loving her was a hell of a lot easier than mourning her.
“Sorry,” Rue said. She clicked open her folder. “I don’t typically tiptoe, but this is a new situation for me, and under the circumstances, I kind of don’t want to run you off.”
“Ah, yes, the charity gala. Whereupon I will be ruthlessly used.”
She sat back, at which point he discovered they were shoulder to shoulder, and tipped her face toward his. “If I get to ruthlessly use you,” she said, “I’m going to need a moment with my razor.”
He really didn’t know how to reply to that, so he kept his mouth shut, instead watching her pull up photos on the computer.
“I have a process,” she explained, scooting forward once again. “Two pictures at a time. Pick a favorite, then move on. When I run out of pictures of a particular subject, the last one standing makes the website.”
