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Mathew disappeared down the hallway, leaving Tristan alone with Dianna. He made his way over to the table and sat down in the seat Mathew had vacated. “Thank you for working with him.”
She lifted her hot chocolate to her lips and took a sip. Her fingers curled around the mug and he could have sworn she hid a smile behind the edge of the cup. “I’ve really enjoyed working with him, too.”
He shifted in his seat. “You mentioned that you’ve never worked with kids like Mathew before.”
“That’s correct.” She placed the mug on the table and turned it in her hands. “I’ve always liked kids. But I’ve never worked with them in an official capacity.”
Tristan blew out a slow breath. “Well, you could have fooled me.”
Her smile returned. He could feel the warmth resonating inside him attempting to make an appearance to show the world just how ridiculous he felt he was being. This small talk was excruciating. He should just let it all out and tell her exactly what has been on his mind.
“Regarding what we were discuss—”
“I should probably get—”
He cut himself off and stared at her. “Oh. Right. You must have a lot to do.”
Dianna shook her head and let out a small laugh. “No, but I think I’ve overstayed my welcome enough for one day.”
Tristan leaned over the table, praying he didn’t look as desperate as he felt inside. “You’re not.” Clearing his throat, he leaned back and raked a hand through his hair. A strained laugh tore from his chest and he looked away. “What I mean to say is that you’re always welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” Geez. Why did his statement sound so immature? He wasn’t some hormonal teenager. He was a man who could tell a woman what he wanted, for heaven’s sake. He opened his mouth to continue what he’d started to say, but she rose from her seat.
“You’re very nice, but really, I think I should head out.”
He rose from his chair and followed her toward the door. “Let me walk you out to your truck.”
Her features faltered and her face bloomed with a shade of scarlet only she could produce. “Shoot! I completely forgot. I didn’t come in my truck.”
His brows furrowed. “You didn’t? How did you get here?”
Her shoulders slouched and her hands dropped listlessly to her sides. “My sister drove me—rather unhappily, I might add. I should probably go see if Shane can take me—”
“Of course not. I can take you. It’s not far, is it?”
She shook her head. “Only about a five-minute drive if we don’t run into any cattle blocking the road.”
“Does that happen often?”
Her grin returned. “More often than avalanches.” She nodded toward the hallway. “Do you think Mathew will mind? He’s probably not going to be thrilled about being interrupted from his drawing.”
“I’m sure he’d love to see where you live. That sort of thing is right up his alley.” Tristan fidgeted again. “But maybe you’d like to stay for dinner before we take you back?”
The hesitation was evident on her face. This was when he would hit himself upside the head and tell himself he knew better. Someone like Dianna wasn’t going to be interested in a guy who had a kid and couldn’t even get the courage to just ask her out.
“I think we’re out of macaroni and cheese, but I got some hot dogs if you’re up for it.”
She laughed. “Well, how can I say no to that?” Dianna grabbed her phone from her pocket, then returned it. “You know what? It doesn’t look like anyone is asking me to get home for anything. Maybe I could make those cookies I’ve been promising Mathew.”
Dinner went quick, and there weren’t any moments when Tristan could speak to Dianna about his intentions. They started making cookies, but Mathew quickly lost interest and wandered off to play.
Tristan leaned his forearms on the table as he watched Dianna roll out the sugar cookie dough. “Can I ask you something?”
Her hands slowed and she looked up at him. “Of course.” There was that hesitation again, adding to the insecurity he felt growing. He had to think quick if he wanted to say something that didn’t sound completely crazy. “How do you know if the dough is going to turn out like a soft cookie or a crunchy one?”
Okay, that was the wrong thing to ask. Dianna stared at him, her expression blank. “That’s what you wanted to ask me?”
Did he hear a note of disappointment in her voice? No. It was only his imagination. He chuckled for lack of anything better to do. “Yep. I can never get my cookies to turn out the way I want them.”
“And what way do you want them to be?” she asked softly.
