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She holds her hand to her stomach and squints at me until she’s satisfied I’m telling the truth.
"Seriously? He's been trying to get me on a blind date with someone from work for months." She paces the floor as she taps her bottom lip. She stops and places both hands on her hips, feigning a disappointed frown. "He doesn't even have a photo of me in his office?"
“Not that I’ve seen, but I only started working there a few months ago.” Damn, the woman’s feisty, cute, and soft in all the right places. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I’d like to clear the air between us if that’s possible.”
“I’d like that.” She fiddles with her fingers as she looks down at the floor. “I’ve been thinking. I was too quick to judge you. I overreacted, and I wish I could take it all back.”
"Me, too." I step toward her, hoping we can find common ground as effortlessly as we did a week ago. "I didn't take that building set for myself."
“I don’t care about the toy or that silly game. You don’t have anything to explain to me.” She shakes her head and steps forward with her hand extended. “Hi, I’m Ginger McKay, frazzled drama teacher with an aversion to the limelight. I’m complex.”
She snickers as a warm blush greets her cheeks. I’m relieved at her willingness to start fresh and meet her halfway. I slip my hand around hers, ecstatic for a do-over.
“Nice to meet you, Ginger.” A blaze of fiery heat shoots up my arm, jolting my heart into frenzied action. “I’m Connor O'Reilly, socially awkward architect at your service.”
TACOS
CHAPTER 7
***
Ginger
His smile is so much sweeter in person than memory serves. Or maybe it’s because the pressure to perform in front of a crowd is behind me. Either way, I’m happy to mend fences, even if Killian had a hand in our meeting.
Connor’s hand dwarfs mine with gentle, inviting pressure. It’s the same as the evening we met when I lost my balance and fell into his arms. His touch is embedded in my body’s memory, spurring to life all the happy pheromones currently making me lightheaded. The effervescent bubbles tickling in all my happy places are icing on the cake.
Connor releases my hand and rests both hands on his hips. He scans the half-assembled stage sets. “What do we have here?”
“Basically, a mess.” Nervous rumblings threaten to nix my little slice of happiness, but I push it away, determined to get the job done. “The play is short weeks away, and none of the sets are complete.”
"Do you have some drawings or plans I could look at?" He runs his fingertips over cardboard cutouts as he walks about the stage.
“If you’re gifted with extrasensory perception and can peek inside my brain, then yes, I have a plan or vague drawing of what needs to go where.”
“Afraid not. Though ESP would have come in handy the other night.” He grins, and once again, the flames licking at my belly roar to life. He might not have the gift of mind reading, but what his smile and eyes do to my insides is his true superpower. “Tell me what you have in mind. We’ll put our heads together and come up with a plan.”
