Page 26 of My Favorite Hero

I tried desperately not to notice the way the action pushed up her breasts. Or how short her shorts were.

I cleared my throat. “That was the most delicious pot roast I’ve ever tasted. I was starving, and I literally licked the plate clean.”

“You were hangry.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Hangry. Exhausted. Not myself.” I drew in a deep breath. “Rude.”

I could see she was wavering. I tried to come up with something else nice. I looked around. “The cupboards look good. Great, even. Perfect color choice.”

She softened even more.

I went past her, looking at the living room. The one corner held a triangle-shaped desk. Three monitors filled the walls. Keyboards, blinking things, all sorts of computer gadgets were on the shelves she’d put up. She’d painted one wall a deeper sage than the kitchen. The new chair was in the opposite corner, a sunny, comfortable-looking spot for reading or relaxing. The old sofa had a new slipcover on it. Curtains were hung. A fresh, thick rug covered the floor. She’d even added some plants.

I turned, looking at her in astonishment. “Have you slept since I’ve been gone?”

She laughed, a real smile on her face. “I’ve been busy.” She paused. “Are you angry over the color?”

I shook my head, not wanting to rock the boat. “No, it’s fine. It looks awesome.”

“I wanted to paint the entranceway, but that armoire is in the way.”

I laughed. “Lou was never able to move it. She just painted around it. It’s been there so long, I think it’s sunk into the floor. I tried to move it once, and it wouldn’t budge.”

“Shame. It’s sort of out of place there.”

I shrugged. It looked fine to me, but I had a feeling I should keep my opinion to myself.

“Sit down. I’ll bring the coffee and buns.”

I sat down, feeling relieved. I spied a few pictures she planned to hang up still leaning against the wall. A couple more boxes. She came in, carrying a tray, and set it on the corner of the coffee table. I noticed a bunch of brass bells, whimsical glass beads, and some other things I couldn’t identify, then became distracted as she handed me a steaming cup.

“I am dying to try these buns,” she confessed, eyeing them up eagerly.

“Sandy called them pull-aparts.”

“Then let’s pull them apart!”

I felt like a kid as I ripped off a piece of the warm, gooey dough. It was sweet and dense. Chewy with the caramel. The flavor exploded in my mouth.

“This is heaven,” Casey murmured.

I agreed but remained quiet. We sat, enjoying the sun, my dog and her cat once again curled up on the sofa, soaking up the warmth of the rays streaming in the window. I startled, realizing I was enjoying myself. I didn’t feel I had to talk. To chitchat—something I hated.

And I should have stuck to that. Instead, I tried to be friendly.

I finished my coffee and sweet buns, wiping my fingers. “Quite the setup,” I said, indicating the computers.

“Hopefully a busy one,” she replied.

“What exactly do you do?”

“I offer IT services to companies that don’t have their own. I set up websites and storefronts. Offer security help. I ensure that their devices are working properly and that data is secure. I also install new software, hardware, and provide technical support. I write code as well, for special projects.”

“Wow. I have an old computer I rarely use.”

She smiled. “I can’t run into a burning building and save people. We all have our own talents.”

I picked up one of the small bells. “Is this part of your work?”