And I won’t start imagining any scenarios in which shewouldinvite me into her room.
We walk by a small dining room downstairs, and then she brings me into the kitchen. It’s clear that she’s in here a lot, probably cooking at home as much as she does at work. Besides all the records in the living room, this room feels the most filled with stuff. Appliances, cooking utensils, a large bowl of fruit and avocados, wall art, and magnets on the fridge.
“And that’s about it,” she says, arms half-extended as she twists around to indicate I’ve seen the whole house. “Do you want to go sit down?”
I assume she means in the living room, so I nod and go back there, with her following me this time. I sit at one end of the couch, my body sinking into the cushion immediately, leaving room for her to plop down at the other end.
And that’s when I realize I have no idea what to say to her now. We’ve spent a little bit of time talking while I’ve hung out around the inn. But the onlyrealtime we’ve spent together was the day we went to the bar. The day I couldn’t stop checking her out.
My instinct is to fill the silence by thanking her once more, but she already told me to stop doing that, so I just bite my lip and keep quiet.
She gestures at the sleeping cat. “I should have warned you about Freddie. You’re not allergic, or one of those assholes who hates cats, right?”
Happy she got the conversation started, I laugh and assure her that I don’t hate any animals.
“You’ve got an impressive record collection,” I comment, feeling a bit more at ease.
“Yeah, I’ve been buying vinyl since I was a teenager.”
Smiling, I say, “And you don’t consider that a hobby?”
She shrugs. “Sure, I guess it is. But it’s not like it’s something that truly takes up my time. I play music while I’m doing everything else.”
“Do you ever just sit and listen?”
“Only rarely.”
I think it would be nice to play something and simply sit here with her. Most of the time when I’m listening to music with other people, it’s work-related. Takes the enjoyment out of it.
I still want to know what kind of music she likes. I already know she doesn’t like mine, but I’m not holding that against her. My music taste is pretty broad, so I’m sure we’d be able to find a common ground somewhere.
“You can take a look at them,” she says, catching me eyeing the wall wistfully. “Feel free to play whatever you want. But I figured you might want to take a shower first, since you didn’t get one this morning.”
“Oh yeah, that’d be good.” I would like to feel clean, especially now that I’m here sharing space with her.
“And if you can give me some idea of what you’d like for dinner, I’ll run to the store if I need to.”
I remember Brenden implying that Addison would cook for me, but I shake my head. I don’t want her waiting on me the way she does at the inn. She’s not getting paid for this. And she’s already doing more than enough by letting me stay. I want to do something nice for her in return.
“How about I make you dinner instead?” I ask, which brings a very confused look to her face. “I’m not the greatest cook,” I admit, “but I can make a few decent things. And I’d really like to do it for you. But if you don’t want me messing around in your kitchen, I totally understand.”
“I’m not worried about the kitchen,” she says, still studying me with a puzzled expression. “But that’s definitely not necessary. I’m used to cooking for people. Do it pretty much every day.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know. And that’s why Ithought it might be nice if you had someone cooking for you for a change.”
As we stare at each other, my heart is beating faster than normal. I only just came up with the idea, but now it feels very important to me that she lets me do this.
After a few moments, in which she must determine my offer is serious, she slowly nods, giving me a small smile. “Okay, that does sound nice. Thank you.”
Excitement has me grinning now. The layer of awkwardness that came with me being here feels like it’s already fallen away. Maybe we really can become friends.
I’d like that.
Although I have to remind myself that eventually I’ll be going back to Nashville. My career is there. My life. But that’s doesn’t mean I can’t make friends here.
And if it’s possible I might want more from this woman... well, I can ignore that. Because I would have no idea what I’m doing in that department. It’s less complicated, less scary, to be friends.
“All right,” I say, turning away from her warm brown eyes. “So I’ll grab that shower first, if that’s okay.”
