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“You’re yourmother’sonly child, sweetheart. You’re her whole world.” Even if Hazel marched to a completely different drummer than her mom.
Hazel’s jeans had so many tears in them that Vickie wasn’t sure how they managed to stay on her. Her bright pink crop top—which showed way too much skin for Vickie’s taste—had white lace sleeves. Her hair was wound into a knot on the side of her head, with strands sticking out in a messy pinwheel that Vickie was sure had been carefully planned and styled. Hazel glanced at the phone again, then got to her feet with a heavy sigh.
“I gotta go study, sorry. I’m not sure when Mom will be back. She had a call over in Penn Yan this afternoon.” She slipped the phone into her pocket as subtly as possible. Vickie had a feeling the onlystudyingHazel was going to do would be to check her social media accounts. But she stood and grabbed her bag.
“I need to do my grocery shopping. I’m glad we had a chance to chat. Let your mom know she can freeze some of those cookies if she wants. And tell her to stop by the house sometime. I haven’t talked to her in a little while.” And she definitely wanted to know more about Mike visiting her shopa lot.
She was surprised to see Gordon’s truck in the driveway when she got home, next to a large stack of gray-blue wood that matched her porch railing. Or at least, something that looked like wood. This must be the composite deck material he’d told her about. She was gathering grocery bags from the trunk when he came around the corner of the house.
“Hey, Vicks! Look what arrived today!” He gestured at the pile of boards.
She ground her teeth together. “I swear to God, Gordon, if you don’t stop calling me that, I’m going to unplug the coffee machine in the mornings.”
He took several bags from her hands and picked up the last few from the trunk, as well as a large package of paper towels. He headed toward the house ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder.
“I’ll stop calling you Vicks when you stop calling me Gordon.”
“But Gordon is yourname.” They went into the kitchen and she directed him to put the bags on the kitchen island.
“And Victoria isyourgiven name, but you get mad if I use that, too.” He winked. Good Lord, the man had a sexy wink. “You prefer Vickie. I prefer Gordy.”
She started unpacking the groceries. To her surprise, he helped. And even knew where most of it went. He’d been paying attention all those times he’d sat in her kitchen over the past month. Usually just for coffee, but he’d stayed for dinner a few times. Only because she had extra food—cooking for one was a trial.
“Fine.” She finally answered him. “Thanks for helping with the groceries,Gordy.But just so you know, that name makes you sound like some freckle-faced teenaged comic book character.”
“Pretty sure the kids call them graphic novels these days,Vickie.” He put the flour on the shelf, calling out to her from inside the pantry. “Sorry it took so long for the decking to arrive, but now that it’s here, you should be back out there enjoying the view in no time. The framing and footers are all set, so it’ll go quick. The color looks nice with the house.”
Vickie carried a few cans of diced tomatoes and sauce into the small pantry just as he turned to come out. She couldn’t stop fast enough, and nearly dropped the cans. Gordon...Gordy...caught the first one that fell and stepped in close to help her hold on to the rest, his arm wrapping around her waist as he pushed her back against the wall. They both froze. She forgot what a big man he was—inches taller than her, with shoulders that were currently blocking her view of the door.
“Umm...thanks.” She stammered the words. Neither of them made any effort to move.
“For what?”
“Uh...what?” She’d gotten lost in his blue eyes and couldn’t remember what they were talking about.
He chuckled, his breath blowing soft across her cheek. When had he gotten that close? And could he get closer, please?
“What are you thanking me for?” He took the cans she was holding and set them on the shelf. Then he rested his hand on her cheek. “Or should I say...what would youliketo thank me for?”
Vickie didn’t move.
“I’m too old for this, Gordy.”
“Too old for what?” His voice dropped even lower.
“For necking in the pantry as if we’re hiding from my parents.”
“We’re not necking. We’re...staring. Necking involves at least one kiss.” He grinned. “Wanna neck?”
She intended to look offended. Or at least skeptical. Intimidating would work, too. Instead, she laughed.
“Come on, this is silly—” She gasped when he ducked his head and brushed his lips on hers. Her pulse fluttered.Oh, my.
“Does that feel silly to you?”
“Gordy...”
“Do you want me to stop?”
