Page 12 of Easy On Me

How many magnets were on that fridge, anyway?

I eased that way, cataloguing them. Vegas, the Grand Canyon, the White House . . .

“She left me those when they moved, too.” A hint of ironic affection colored his voice. “Called it downsizing.”

Smiling, I lifted the mug for a sip. I liked more than his looks. He was kinda quiet, kinda real. Folding myself into one of the chairs at the oval oak table, I watched his shoulders move as he divided eggs between a pair of plates.

She wasn’t how he wanted to live his life.

I ran a fingertip around the mug rim. “Why’d you break up with her?”

He shot a glance over his shoulder. “As an adult, she turned out to be someone other than who I thought she would be when we got together as kids. She showed me that.”

That told me everything and nothing, yet I got the ambiguity – I didn’t want anyone prying into my personal life, either. Wonder who she’d made him think she was? And how had he missed who she was?

I’d pegged her my first day at Chandler-Haynes. Insecure, a poser, scared . . . and all that came out as arrogance and meanness.

One day, I’d shown her I could be meaner. Not proud of it, but she’d left me alone after that.

Not everyone did . . . if you let yourself be mean, there was always somebody bigger and meaner than you.

Dishes clattered, and a stove dial clicked. Jase slid a plate in front of me and settled in the chair next to mine. A ring of green flowers on the plate framed fluffy eggs, fluffier pancakes, and crisp bacon. My mouth watered.

He nudged a small bottle of real maple syrup in my direction. Something heavy and breathless tightened in my chest in a moment like a movie or a commercial. The easy life everyone wanted.

His sharp blue gaze lingered on my face. “What do you like to do?”

Swallowing a smartass you, I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Dancing, obviously. I work out at home. And I’m taking a painting class at FRAC.”

“Yeah?” He forked up a bite of eggs.

“Um-hmm. Usually watercolors, but I’m learning oils.” And slowly working on a pet portrait of Sally for Mama Nancy for Christmas, under Christy’s patient tutelage. “You?”

“Fishing. I go to the gym and play golf.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “Hang out with my buddies.”

“You have more than the asshole who sabotages his life?”

His chuckle rang as rich as the syrup-soaked pancake. “Yeah. His cousin, too. We do Saturday night dinner.”

“Sounds fun.” I half-shrugged. His gaze followed the movement of his shirt as it half-fell off my shoulder. “Maggie and I do Sunday afternoon movies and popcorn.”

His lips twisted into a rueful expression. “Hard for me to sit through a whole movie.”

Somehow, I could see that. I couldn’t resist a smile. I liked this, liked him. Yeah, there could definitely be a next time.

He shifted on the chair, angling his body toward me. “Can I take you out one night this week?”

“Sure.” The agreement hung between us before I thought it through, but really, did I need to?

“How about tonight?” With a grin, he sectioned off a bite of pancake. His blue eyes twinkled with good humor. “Maybe lunch at my parents, too.”

I bit into a crispy strip of bacon and chewed, pretending to consider. He’d sprinkled something – brown sugar, maybe? – atop the bacon, so the savory blended with a caramelized sweetness. I held the strip aloft in punctuation. “I think it might be too soon for that.”

He winked. “I’d love to spend all day with you.”

“I’m sure you would.”

His brows folded, mouth set in slightly wounded pout. “It’s not just about that.”