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She was so different from the other women he’d known, since he never really cared whether they stayed or left, didn’t really enjoy their company, found their conversation dull and uninspiring.
Actually, as he thought about it, maybe it was him that was dull and uninspiring, because looking back, his main concern had always been about himself. How was he coming off? What was she thinking about him? What could he do differently to make himself look good? Was she impressed with what he was doing? Was she entertained by his conversation?
He’d never stopped to really pay attention to the woman he was with. To listen to her. To be entertained by her. To smile and let her know he enjoyed being with her. To dig a little deeper and let her know he wanted to know more.
That had probably been a character issue on his part, but maybe it also had to do with interest. Because he couldn’t stop himself from wondering about Peyton. Of course he wanted her to listen to what he was saying and be impressed with what he did and see him for who he was, but interestingly, he wanted to do the exact same back to her. Wanted her to know that he cared about her and was interested in what she said and impressed by what she did.
That was a first for him. Maybe it was the first time he’d set aside his own self-interest, and selfishness, his tendency to focus on himself and how he was presenting himself to the world, to lose himself, set himself aside, in order to be interested in lifting someone else up.
Peyton.
“I guess I could,” she finally said, after standing there for a bit, like she was thinking about him.
He remembered they had been talking about cooking in his kitchen. “You don’t have to. I can handle a whole meal.”
“You’ve never cooked before, and you’re going to do Easter dinner—handle the whole meal?” she asked, incredulously but still with that calm tone that permeated pretty much everything she said.
“How hard can it be?” he asked, a little devil-may-care grin on his face. It would be a huge flop, he was sure, and he’d be annoyed with himself on Sunday when he had guests and nothing to feed them. But he wasn’t going to worry about that right now.
“Right. That’s what I thought. I’ll make a side dish, and I’ll help you with the scalloped potatoes. You were having scalloped potatoes, right?”
“Of course,” he said, having had no thought in his head until that second about having scalloped potatoes. She acted like it was normal to have them on Easter, so he figured that’s what they’d do.
“Sounds good. I’ll make pineapple casserole,” she announced, and she saw his smile. “It’s a southern thing.”
“Man, I haven’t had that since I left South Carolina.”
They grinned together, just a little shared humor at the culture they were from and how it was so similar, but strikingly different at times, to where they lived now.
She shook her head, breaking the spell that seemed to fall around them. He had even taken a step forward, tempted to reach out and touch her. Tempted to...he didn’t know. Get closer? Ask her to stay? Ask her to take a walk with him? Or just do something that would bring them together.
“I’d better get to work. I came so I could get a little extra time, and I’m not getting anything done by standing here talking to you.”
He wanted to say he wouldn’t mind. Wanted to say that’s what he wanted. But it was a little bit of a slap in the face to have her remind him she was just here to make money. Because she had something to do.
That she would be gone when it was over.
His hand had lifted just a little, and that thought caused it to drop back at his side. Instead of stepping forward, he stepped back, his face set. “I’ll make sure we have lunch.”
She nodded. “I’ve been depending on you to feed me, but I can pack my own food. I just...didn’t want to, not if you are going to have something. I didn’t want to waste anything. That and there’s really no place to keep anything cool.”
“You’re welcome to use my refrigerator anytime,” he said, knowing his voice was much more closed off than it had been.
“Thank you,” she said, and maybe he imagined it, but it seemed a little bit more formal and less casual than it had been. Still, she didn’t seem bothered by his abrupt change. It only altered the way she spoke, not the way she acted.
With another glance and a smile, she started walking away toward the library.
His whole being wanted to watch her go, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked into the dining room, even though he didn’t need to be in there, had no reason to be. He just couldn’t stand stupidly in the hall staring in case she turned to glance back as she turned the corner.
She probably wouldn’t, but at any rate, he didn’t want to be caught mooning over a girl that, yeah, he liked, but was all wrong for him.
