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“Why are you funny now?”
“Because I’m an old fool acting like a teenager in the throes of a first crush.”
“This crush works both ways, then?”
“Apparently so.” I glance at him. “Could I ask you something?”
“Anything you’d like.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixty-one.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
“Age is just a number. You, my friend, could be fifty for all your youthful vitality.”
“Oh,” I say, hooting with laughter, “you’re a charmer, aren’t you? Did you hear what Marlene said? We’re going to be great-grandmothers before this year is out! You don’t even have grandchildren yet!”
He tosses his head back and laughs, and Lord have mercy, the man is sexy when he laughs.
Hell, he’s sexy when he breathes.
Then he ups the ante when he puts his hands on my shoulders and gazes down at me with the look men have been giving women since the beginning of time. It hasn’t been so long for me that I don’t know what that look means.
I take a step back. I’m not ready for whatever he’s thinking. Not when I’m exhausted, overwrought and probably have the world’s worst coffee breath after drinking gallons of it during the night.
“I’m sorry. This is certainly not the time for this conversation. But I’d like to have it one of these days. When your grandson is on the road to recovery. Would that be okay?”
As I look up at him, handsome and kind and far too young for me, I realize this is a moment of truth. Am I willing to explore this attraction between us, or should I put a stop to it while I still can? I no sooner ask myself that question than I’m silently screaming NO! He and the flight lessons are the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years.
“Yes.” I sound much calmer than I feel. “That would be okay.”
