“You’re late,” I snapped, a lot more harshly than I’d intended.
He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I had to go to the library today. I did a reading for six lovely women who I think I might have scandalized with my writing. I had to stop, because I thought Mrs. Patterson was having heart palpitations. And then afterward, I had to make a trip to the hardware store.”
Clay had said Charlie wrote. “What do you write?”
“Murder mysteries,” he replied. He must have noted the confusion in my expression, because he gave me a little smirk. “The main character is gay.”
Oh.Oh!“You’re gay?” I immediately regretted my tone, because it sounded accusatory.
“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly. “Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all.” Hell no. My heart did a little jig, and my cock actually twitched.
“Good. So what about you? Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “No, no one.”
That brought a big smile to his face. “Really?” He sounded so happy.
I took two steps toward him, and the tightness in my chest receded as I got closer. “So… about yesterday….”
He nodded. “Panic attack? I get it. I have those when I have to do a reading. Don’t worry about it. But if you’d like to tell me what set it off, I’ll try not to repeat whatever I did to cause it.”
He thoughthehad caused it. “You didn’t do anything,” I promised. “This started way before you.”
Charlie tilted his head a little, then flashed me a cheeky grin. “If you offer me something to drink, I’ll forgive you.”
My heart thudded. Did he think I’d let him in my house? Because no way would that happen. Still, if he wanted to sit outside….
“I made some lemonade,” I told him. “It’s probably not what you’re used to. I have a few trees I’ve grown over the years in my hothouse.”
“You grow your own trees? That’s… wow. I don’t know anyone who does something like that.”
“Most of the things I eat are what I plant and harvest. I like to work the soil.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth. Still, how long would it be before Charlie heard my story?
“I’d love some lemonade, if you don’t mind.” He pointed to the swing on my front porch. It was one of my favorite pieces of furniture, great for wrapping myself up and snuggling in for a while to take in the beauty of the land. There was a small table next to it, and across from it sat a really nice chair. Both the swing and the chair had extra thick cushions that you just sank into. “Is it okay if I sit and talk with you while I drink?”
My pulse sped up a little. An internal war raged, part of me wanting him to leave and part of me wanting him to stay so I could get to know him better. While I hated people on my property, Charlie’s quirky smile, runner’s body, and the fact that he wrote actual books meant something to me. Sucking in a deep breath, I uttered words I never thought I’d hear myself say.
“Sure. Have a seat, and I’ll get you a glass.”
