Page 47 of Sweet Talking Man


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"My internet has been out and I didn't check my phone this afternoon. I was busy getting the backyard ready for our date."

"Oh," she said, pink flooding her cheeks, the cuteness edging out some of the disappointment in his gut. "I'm sorry. I, uh, well, I had said something about not feeling like, uh-"

"You blew me off?"

"No. Not blowing you. I just- I didn't mean to sayblowing you.I meant I didn't blow you off. Ah, basically it's just… Here's the thing. I don't think I need a new relationship right now." Abigail had grown even redder over her mix-up of words and her eyes had dipped to take in his worn jeans and tight long-sleeved T-shirt. He'd finger-combed his hair, letting it dry naturally, a softer look thanks to the Louisiana humidity. Her eyes were appreciative. So what was the deal? Was she still throwing up roadblocks because she was scared? Or maybe he made her feel too reckless?

Yes. Whatever sparked between them was a little out of control, a little wild, and that scared her. Abigail needed a slight push.

"In case you don't realize, a date is when two people who might like each other go out to dinner or some other activity to get to know each other better. It's not a huge commitment. No ring, no prenup, no guaranteed sex. Just some food and conversation. It's not a relationship."

"I know what a date is," she said, stooping to pick up the shears she'd dropped. "But I'm not at a good place for-"

"Pasta?"

"What?"

"I made pasta salad. I don't even have condoms in the house. You're totally safe."

"Wait, you don't have-" Abigail snapped her mouth closed, before squeezing her eyes shut. She opened them, doing that forehead wrinkle thing she did pretty much all the time. "I'm sorry, I just can't do this."

"Sure you can."

"I have too much to do. Look at these roses. If I don't prune them now, they won't have blooms this spring."

"Yeah, they will. Double Knock Outs bloom even if not pruned."

"You know what Knock Out roses are?"

"I know a lot of things. I know how many cups are in a gallon, I know how many pixels are on a sixty-inch TV, and I know why clown fish can live safely inside sea anemones.” He walked toward her, lifting the bouquet of flowers. He stopped in front of her. "I also know it takes the average woman seven point-five minutes to take a shower, but since you, Abigail, are so very efficient, I bet you can do it in less than five minutes."

"You want me to take a shower?" she asked, staring at his mouth.

"I'd take one with you, but, as previously stated, this is just a date. No big deal."

She swallowed, ripping her gaze away from his mouth. "But-"

"Uh, uh, uh. No buts. You're a woman who fritters her time away doing everything that must be done. It's time someone stepped in and demanded you fritter some time away doing something you never knew needed to be done".

"What is that?” she asked, het eyes confused.

"Essentially, you need a little bit of nothing in your life."

''Nothing?"

"Yes, you need to let go of what has to be done and hold on to nothing. Or me. Either one."

He set the flowers atop one of the spindly bushes, picked up her gloved hands and set them on his shoulders. He grinned at her, placing his hands about her waist, bringing her to him. She smelled earthy. And a bit like bubble gum.

“Oh," she breathed as their bodies melded together.

Leif took her left hand in his and swung her about in a waltz.

She actually giggled as they took five steps around the small stacks of thorny branches that littered the patio. "You're crazy."

"Yes." He spun her faster, loving the tinkle in her laughter. He started counting. "One, two, three. One, two, three."

"Oh, my gosh, stop. What are people going to think?"

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