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After a few deep breaths, she said, “And, yes, I think you’re hot,” since she never answered him earlier.
He finally turned to her.
And grinned.
Holy hell, that grin made things flutter inside her.
“But...” You’re too young.
“But?” The little lights hanging above them made his dark eyes sparkle like onyx.
Don’t go there, Chelle. It doesn’t matter that you think he’s too young for you. Because he isn’t for you, period. Too young, too old, too hot, too quiet... None of it matters.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t push it. She had quickly learned that about him. He accepted anything she said at face value. If she wanted to tell him more, he was fine with it. If she didn’t, he was fine with that, too.
She never met a man like that. The ones she knew pestered until they got an answer, even if it wasn’t the one they wanted to hear. Her brother was like that. Brendan had been like that, too. They didn’t know when to let a subject drop.
“Can I ask you a question?” Then, neither did she.
Instead of answering, one shoulder rose and fell. She assumed that meant she could continue. She had also learned in the very short amount of time they’d spent together, if he didn’t want to answer, he wouldn’t.
“You speak very deliberately.”
He lifted the bottle to his lips, drained the last of his beer and put the empty bottle down on the patio. All slow and deliberate, similar to how he spoke. “Not a question.”
Okay, then. She’d follow up her inquiry with a very simple question. “Why?”
He stared at her for longer than she expected before he asked a question of his own. “It matter?”
She kept telling herself that anything and everything about him shouldn’t. But that was a lie. “I’m curious.” More than curious. It had been bugging her.
“Why?”
Yes, Chelle, why? “I’m a librarian. Words are my life.” That was partially the truth.
“Books.”
She shook her head. “No, not just books. Words in all forms. Stories, documentaries, lyrics, speeches. I love it all. Spoken, written, sung.” She glanced over at him, and watched his profile as he continued to stare out through the yard. “So, of course, I’m going to notice when someone picks their words carefully.” She paused, questioning her next question, but, screw it, she pushed on. “Do you have a stutter?”
“No.”
She waited. Either he would expand on that answer or he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t force him. It could be he was embarrassed about whatever it was and she didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. But he also had to feel the natural rapport between the two of them, right?
She couldn’t be imagining it.
He turned and stared at her for a long minute, during which she actually held her breath, and finally answered, “Maybe I like to be careful with what I say. Once somethin’s said, hard to take those words back.”
While that was true, that wasn’t the reason he spoke in the manner he did. If it wasn’t a stutter, then it was something else. Possible head trauma in the past, or some sort of disability. Because in the last two days they’d spent together, he’d also mixed up words.
She’d caught it a couple of times when she was sure he wasn’t aware of it. The couple of times he was, he quickly corrected himself. Every time it happened, it was when he spoke at a faster clip. Almost as if his brain misfired.
She wanted to dig deeper, but also didn’t want him to clam up.
She enjoyed the easy companionship he provided. It was nice to have a conversation with an adult, even though he didn’t speak a lot. She was around young children all day and her girls at home. Occasionally her brother or sister-in-law popped over, but they were both busy so neither stayed long. Now that the girls were older, they usually only checked in, unless it was a holiday, then the two families spent more time together.
And the staff at work... Well, she rarely had any kind of long conversations with any of them. She ate her lunch in her office or she stepped outside, if the weather was nice. But even after all these years, she really hadn’t forged any close relationships. Like in high school, the school staff had their cliques.
All of that was probably why she spent a lot of time talking to herself. Or reading. Or listening to audiobooks and podcasts. Watching a classic movie by herself or a newer movie with her girls. Or just losing herself in music while cleaning or cooking.
The only time she felt lonely was when she thought of Brendan. Other than that, she was fine with her own company.
When he didn’t say anything more on it, she finished her beer and stood. “I’ll get you another.”
