Page 17 of Something Borrowed

Vic gave herself a hard mental shake. “Of course.” She stepped back to give Cal access to the house. As he brushed past her, a soft, slightly medicinal scent of Eucalyptus, mint, and lemongrass wafted after him.

“Mmm, you smell like a spa,” Vic said before she thought better of it.

Cal paused midway through pulling off his jacket, one arm free, one still deep in its sleeve. “Well, I guess that’s better than smelling like ham, pineapple, banana peppers, and onions.”

Vic smiled. “Wow, that’s very specific, but I guess it depends.”

“On?”

“On what you had for dinner. I love spa scents, but I’d kill for a pizza right now.”

Cal laughed and his gaze skimmed her body. “See, I would’ve pegged you for spa, but not necessarily for pizza.” Vic swore his cheeks above his beard turned pink. “I mean—or, I don’t mean—I’m sorry. I wasn’t—”

Vic held up her hand. “This body is by starvation. I’ve been eating my own cooking too long.”

Cal patted his thick stomach. “Me too, though mine’s the opposite problem, obviously.”

Vic liked his weight. Thought it looked good on him. Thought—

The primary problem with you, Victoria, is that you’re boy crazy.

How many years had she heard that? And then later, with equal or even more derision: You’re always waiting for some man to save you.

I don’t disagree with you, Audra. I don’t disagree with you at all.

Cal was talking again, and Vic abandoned the voices in her head with relief.

“If you were serious about liking pizza,” he was saying.

He’s going to ask you out! Devil said.

Oh, no, moaned Angel. Do not say yes. Do not—

“Evie B’s is a new pizza place in town. I highly recommend their takeout.”

Oh. Vic didn’t know why she was so disappointed. It would be beyond bizarre for a man she’d hired to fix her toilet to ask her for a date—and possibly even borderline inappropriate. Also, she wasn’t dating anymore. She had enough problems. She couldn’t see anyone without being pathological and she’d learned her lesson finally. She felt suddenly, profoundly, inexplicably lonely.

“Hey,” Cal said, and Vic realized—with horror—that he was studying her with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She immediately felt bad for snapping. “Sorry, I mean . . . yes, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

“Okay, well, I’ll get to it then.”

She nodded. “I’ll just . . . read my book, I guess, in the living room?”

“Sounds good.”

“Let me know if you need help or anything.”

He looked amused by the idea but nodded. “Sure thing. Thanks.”

Except he didn’t move toward the bathroom, and she didn’t carry herself down the hall.

“Or, maybe . . . I could help you?” she asked hopefully.

Cal’s head tilted to one side, considering her offer like he’d never heard of such a thing before. “Maybe,” he said doubtfully.

“Or we could just talk.” Damn, she hadn’t meant to sound so wistful. And maybe that would be annoying and inefficient. She’d just be in the way—