She looked up at him and her smile lit up her whole face. “Is that like in the Victorian era when men would say they want to show you their etchings?”
He frowned a little at that. “I have no idea.”
She bit into her lip and shifted on her chair. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning on one arm. The movement gave him a great view of her calves. He was a goner for sure.
“It was something a man would say to get a woman to come and look at his art. Meaning he’d get her alone and they could... get a little frisky.”
“That I understand.” He smiled then, nodding. “I have some art at my place,” he took a sip of his beer and set it down, “happy to show you anything you like.”
“I... I don’t know if we’re at the ‘go over to your place’ part of our... I don’t think we can quite call it a relationship.”
“I don’t know...” Wayne leaned in against the table and covered her hand with his. “It might be a little early, but I’m interested.”
She smiled, looking more than a little surprised. “Really?”
“What’s so hard to believe about it?”
She moved her hand under his and he wondered if she was trying to get him to let her go, but when she stopped, he looked down and saw that she was brushing her thumb against the side of his hand. “I guess because it’s been a long,loooongtime since a man has shown some serious interest.”
“That,” he narrowed his eyes at her, “I don’t believe. How is it that a beautiful woman like you doesn’t get any interest?”
She cleared her throat. “Most men meet me when I’m dirty and sweaty. Streaked with soot and smoke. It’s not exactly a turn on.”
He shrugged. “I spent most of my professional career sweaty and dirty.”
Her eyes brightened. “Huh, I never thought of that.” She reached out and picked up a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table and pulled a small piece off of it. “The few that have shown interest fall into two main camps.”
He raised a brow at those words as she put the smaller piece in her mouth and frowned a little. He wondered if that was because of the flavor and picked up the butter knife from the plate. He held his hand out for her bread. She smiled and gave him the rest of her slice of bread.
As he buttered it, he looked up at her. “What kinds of camps?”
“Those who think that me being a firefighter is something I’m just doing to ‘stick it to the patriarchy.’ Like I’d risk my life on a daily basis for that kind of reason.”
He nodded and handed her back the bread. She took it with a smile and took a bite from the bread, chewing happily.
“I can’t imagine that all of the training you went through and still go through is something you’d do to just ‘stick it to the man.’“
She nodded and lifted her hand to cover her mouth.
“See?” She chewed and swallowed and took a quick drink of water. “And the other? Well, they think I’m just trying to find myself a man to bring in the money so I can quit and be a housewife.”
He grimaced at that. “Neither option seems like you.”
“Really?” She laughed softly. “You’re right. Neither is me. That’s why I didn’t end up with any of them. I don’t fit their view of what or who I am.”
She took another bite of the bread and chewed on it.
He watched her for a moment before he buttered another piece of bread. “I think I might be outside of those camps.”
Avery watched him carefully. “Really? What’s your view on it? On me?”
“You?” He set down the butter knife and set the bread down on her plate. “I think you’re fascinating. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of connection before, to anyone. While I don’t think you fit into either of those views, I think I’m going to like figuring out who you are. All of the different bits and pieces.”
Avery looked down at the buttered bread on her plate. “You keep buttering the bread for me like that and there won’t be anybitson me, they’re going to be big.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she bit into her bottom lip and her face reddened to a shade approaching the color of her dress.
“That’s... I... I didn’t mean...”
