6
When they got home, Lyle transferred Charlotte’s car seat back into his own truck, then helped Heather unload the dogs and crates. Something had shifted between them and he was reluctant to leave, wanted to explore it, bask in her presence a little longer. But he knew he needed to tread carefully.
He hadn’t missed the subtle walls she kept erected, the slight degree of holding back that made him want to know all of her secrets. But like dealing with a frightened or wounded animal, he knew better than to crowd, knew how to ease in slowly.
If he didn’t make a move soon, though, they’d still be dancing around each other this time next year. And he was finding he was a bit impatient.
Charlotte was wide awake after her short nap in the car and was busy letting each of the dogs carefully sniff Pudge. Thankfully the kitten was being a good sport about it.
He turned back to Heather, leaned against the truck’s door.
“How about a date?”
“Lyle—”
“A family date. With me and Charlotte at Cooter’s. Tomorrow is burgers and briskets night and Kenny’s subbing for the guitar player in the band.”
“Kenny’s in a band?” She couldn’t picture the tall, silent cowboy on stage.
“Naw. But he’s decent on the guitar and the band’s lead guy got tangled up in barbed wire and sliced up his fingers.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, so Kenny’s subbing for him. What do you say? I’m buying.”
“I can buy my own meal.”
“Sure you can. But since Charlotte and I invited you, it would be rude to kick up a fuss over a supper tab.”
“Oh, so Charlotte’s involved in the invite?”
“Of course. We’re a package.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Frank and Lori will have a field day if I show up with you.”
“Embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Embarrassed over how Frank’s going to poke at us,” she corrected.
He gave a wink. “I think I can handle him.”
Yes, but could Heather handle Lyle? That was the question. Her heart was already making plans that her head cautioned against.
“Come on, Firefly. Let’s be grown-ups together.”
“You mean where you’re not dismissing me like a tag-along pest?”
“Did I do that?” He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. “Yeah, I probably did.” He answered his own question. “I’m sorry for that. Let me make it up to you.”
“No need to rectify the past. I’m good.”
“Well, then, how about we start a new chapter?”
Oh, that was dangerous indeed. But he was a hard man to resist.
“Pick you up at six? Say yes, Heather.”
She sighed. “Yes. Six is fine.”
