Page 102 of His Wounded Heart

I quickly close it down; he doesn’t need to see the type of reading material I like. I shove it into the side table drawer, then I rush to the door. I fling it open and smile.

“Trenda, did you even look through your peephole?” He’s frowning.

“No. Come on in.”

He walks in and looks at my door.

“You need a deadbolt on your front door. Don’t you have a sliding glass door to your backyard? What kind of—”

I put two fingers against his lips like he has done to me.

“I did tell you that Bella is sleeping over at my sister’s tonight, didn’t I?”

Simon looks sheepish. “Yeah, you did.”

He turns and closes the door, then holds up bags from my favorite seafood restaurant. “How’d you know about Topmate Fish?”

“I asked Zarek.”

“Let’s take this into the dining room.” The dining room is a little bigger than the kitchen nook, and it’s prettier. I’d put out the good plates that my friend Lilah had bought for me when she’d had a bumper crop, along with the tablecloth that I’d picked out with Bella two years ago. That’s why it had daisies at the edges. I’d also put out the pretty crystal candlesticks that Piper had given me when she’d been twelve, but I had not put any candles in them’ that would have been too over the top.

“Since you bought the food, let me plate it.” I offer.

“How about we both do it?” he suggests as he walks with me to the kitchen.

We were soon in the dining room eating jumbo tempura prawns with asparagus and wild mushrooms along with jasmine fried rice. That was after finishing off the mussels roasted with orange tarragon butter. It was all succulent.

“You have good taste, Trenda Avery. This is really good food, and I live in Virginia, where we get fresh seafood.”

“Yeah, the brothers who own this place have things flown in fresh every day. That’s why you had to sell a kidney to purchase this meal. You actually are looking pretty good for someone who’s missing an organ,” I tease.

“I’m willing to give them part of my liver for their Australian lobster tail,” he teases in return.

I laugh. “I tell you what. Next time, I’ll buy.”

“You can try,” he says, but even though he’s smiling I get the feeling I’ll always lose this argument.

“What kind of wine would have gone well with this?” I ask, even thought we’d both had beer with dinner.

“Actually I’m more of a beer guy. I did live in California for a while, so I can tell you it would be a white, maybe a Sauvignon Blanc, but I prefer a beer.”

“I’m a beer or a sweet tea kind of girl. Emphasis on the sweet. That’s why wine has never really done it for me.”

I lean over to pick up his empty plate, but he stills my hand. “I’ve got it.”

“No, the rule is, he who cooks gets to sit out while the other person does the dishes.”

“I get that, but what you don’t understand is, I want to spend as much time, and as close to you, as possible.”

My hand trembles as I pull it back to rest in my lap.

“Isn’t that how you feel, Trenda?”

I nod. He picks up his plate, and I pick up mine. He follows me into my kitchen. It’s like I’m sleepwalking as I rinse the plate then put it into the dishwasher. He does the same thing. Our bodies are so close in front of the sink I’m worried I’ll never be able to breathe again.

Simon closes the dishwasher and cocks his head.

“I like this song.”