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“What are you doing?” Warren asks, appearing out of freaking nowhere.
I jump.
Dale zigzags right off the patio and disappears into a big leafy plant lining the patio.
“Ugh, you ruined it!” I slump in defeat, my heart still racing because Warren snuck up on me like a cat. “Now he’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?” Warren glances around, looking confused. Which is fair, I suppose.
“I was trying to make friends with the chipmunk Gary caught so I could apologize and offer him this bowl of nuts.” I wave my hand at said bowl of nuts sitting in the middle of his patio as proof. I hope he’s not gonna be particular about me using the china.
“You…” he begins but stops immediately, shaking his head and glancing around the patio as if he can’t quite believe we’re having this conversation. He stares at me for a long moment before continuing. “How do you even know it’s the same chipmunk?”
Hmm. Dammit. That is a very, very fair point. I guess I don’t. But it doesn’t really matter. The apology is still valid.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the same chipmunk,” I say, because I’m just gonna dig in on this, it appears.
“Pretty sure?” Warren’s tilted his head a fraction to the right as he continues to stare at me. I’m not sure what he’s thinking. I’m not sure he knows what he’s thinking.
“I’ve got a very good feeling that it is, okay?”
“A very good feeling?” he repeats a bit incredulously, muttering something under his breath before he exhales with a shake of his head.
“Mmmhmm,” I hum as noncommittally as possible because I don’t really have any sound logic to back this up. Or even unsound logic.
Warren crosses his arms, but there’s a hint of a smile on this face. “Are you mentally sane?”
I blow out a loud breath in something that sounds a bit like “pffft,” before adding, “Hard to say.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, I’ve never been professionally diagnosed as a lunatic, but I’ve also never gone to the doctor and asked for a diagnosis. So to be fair, it’s possible that I am indeed a lunatic.”
“Mmmhmm,” he hums with a small nod, repeating my earlier mastery of the English language. Then he runs his hand along his chin. I think he’s trying to stifle a laugh but honestly I’m distracted, because now I’m staring at his hand, remembering all the places it was last night. On my ass, sliding over my hips, running along my thigh as he—
“I’m leaving to pick up Bethany,” he says, clearly having no idea that I’m sitting here thinking sex thoughts about him. Luckily the mention of his teenage daughter puts an abrupt end to that.
“Right, right.” I nod. “Your daughter. Is she staying over this weekend?”
“She is,” he says, but he kind of draws the words out and I wonder if I’m supposed to infer something from them.
Oh.
“Am I going to be in the way? Do you want me to leave?” Oh, man. This really is the most awkward morning-after-sex ever in the history of sex.
“No, of course not,” he quickly objects, brows rising, even adding a shake of his head, so I don’t think that’s what he was getting at. But then he adds, “It’ll be fine. Plenty of space here. And I’m sure she’ll like you.”
So now I’m off balance again. What will be fine? And does he really think his daughter will like me? Does he want her to like me? Because, shit, most people don’t. Or they do, but in small doses. Also, I’ve never been great with teenagers. Especially when I was a teenager, but whatever.
Also, her bedroom is quite literally across the hallway from mine.
Sing it with me. Awkwardddddd.
“I’ll bring her with me to the store this afternoon so I can work on your plumbing. She can hang out with you in the store, if that’s okay? Otherwise I’ll never get that pipe fixed.”
“Oh.” I nod, not quite looking at him. “Sure. Of course. Gotta get that plumbing done, right? Can’t be living here forever.”
I stand up abruptly. Of course he wouldn’t kick me out while I still don’t have working plumbing. So of course I have to stay this weekend with his daughter, even if he doesn’t really want me to. But he’s going to fix it and eventually kick me out and it’s fine.
“I’ll see you later, then,” I tell him, brushing imaginary pavement dust off my pants as I offer him a quick smile while eyeing the door for my getaway. We were naked together less than half a day ago and now we’re fully clothed and it’s a hundred times more awkward. “I’ve got some errands to run,” I offer, waving my hand in the direction of the house while inching towards it. “So I’m gonna run. Run the errands.”
“Okay,” he says, but the word comes out slower than necessary and he rubs at a frown line on his forehead. “Do you need me to pick anything—”
