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“Nah, I’m already here. I’ll take a look real quick to see if it’s an easy fix or something more complicated.” He headed to the other side of the island and opened up the oven before closing it back and pulling it out of its place.
For about ten minutes, he inspected the oven. Meanwhile, I leaned against the counter and stared at him. I didn’t even try hiding it each time he caught me. He looked up at me with a mischievous grin, knowing good and well I was peeking at him the whole time.
“I’m going to have to come back tomorrow when I have my tools, but it shouldn’t take me too long. Is that still all right?”
I nodded yes, possibly a little too excited, and replied, “Yeah, for sure, um, how much do I owe you? Or do you want to add it to the price of the house?” He let out a small chuckle.
“Don’t worry about it, Hart. You can get the food tomorrow night, and we’ll be even.” The idea of us having dinner again made my stomach feel all floaty, like I just hopped off a spinning roller coaster.
I rechecked my phone, and it was now seven-thirty. I also saw a text back from Ashley.
Ashley: Got cozy on that couch last night, huh? Sorry if I interrupted.
Ignoring her message, I tossed my phone on the sectional and glanced back up at Grant to find him staring at me. He broke eye contact and gradually walked across my living room, taking it all in.
“So, this is where June Hart lives.” He walks up to my vinyl collection and skims through them, making a ‘huh’ sound.
I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly more aware of him being in my apartment and looking at my assortment of ceramic ladybugs and fairy villages on my bookshelves. “I guess so; it’s not anything special.”
He strolled along the wall, looking at my shelves covered in antiques and things my students made me. He did a lap back to my fridge and ran his fingers over a drawing one of my kids sketched of me. He let out a puff of air and quietly commented, “Cute.”
“That was from my first year at the school. I have a hard time letting stuff like that go.” I now have tubs of art projects, thank you letters, and teachers’ gifts in my spare bedroom because I can’t seem to let them go.
He was so relaxed. As if he fit right into place here.
I tilted my head, getting a better look at him. “It’s strange seeing you like this.” He cocked his head to the side.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, relaxed. Not so uptight.”
He chuckled to himself. “I’m not uptight. I just don’t like talking much. Or people.” Ironically.
“You talk to me, it seems like.”
He picked up a framed picture of Ashley and me at our college graduation and looked at it for a while.
“That’s just because it’s you; it’s different.”
“But why?”
“Are you ever going to stop with all the questions?”
“Probably not.” I smiled at him. I still had a mental investigation going on in my head. He could complain about my never-ending curiosity about him, but deep down, I think he liked it, judging by how his lips slowly turned up in a small smile. I liked to think I would do anything to see that smile.
Grant yawned again, and his eyes were droopy. I resisted the urge to wrap a heated blanket around him and force him to nap on my couch like a stray cat. He made his way over to me with that same grin, and I smiled up at him, liking how natural he felt in my apartment.
I had never had a guy over here other than family and a couple of Ashley’s “man friends.” I had always put relationships on the back burner.
He questionably eyed my crochet basket sitting by the couch. “What is that?” I looked down at my colorful yarn and needles. “It’s my crochet basket.”
He made that face he always does when he is confused, eyebrows drawn in and lips curled. “I’m trying to decide if you’re a seven-year-old or a seventy-year-old.” I scoffed at him, “I will have you know crocheting is what helped pull the Irish out of the potato famine in the 1840s. It is very serious business.”
Grant looked at me as though I had grown a second head. “What do you even make with it? Blankets?” I wish.
After spending one summer with Gram when she was going through a crocheting phase, I picked up a few skills but instead of putting them to practical uses such as blankets…
My eyes trail back to my shelf where my crocheted turtles sat. Grant followed my gaze, “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If I find myself in a potato famine, I will call you first to grab some crocheted turtles.” I smiled over at him.
I could tell he was about to make his way out the door, and as tired as I was, I wasn’t ready for him to leave.
“I guess I better head out. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
“For sure. What do you want for dinner?”
“I dunno. Surprise me.” He gazed over from the door, shooting me a quick wink, and my stomach did backflips.
