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I’m starting to suspect he’s a man of very few words.This sucks, because I can be a talker.
“Soooo,” I let the word drag. “You don't think you need a woman?”
He shakes his head.
I know I shouldn’t, but I ask anyway, “Why does your mom think you need one?”
This time it's his turn to take a big bite of his sandwich. He's avoiding the question, even I can see that.
It's not going to work. I can wait. I'm patient.
When he chews, swallows, and takes another bite, I prompt, “No ideas?”
“Don't know,” he says around a mouth full. “Maybe she wants grandbabies. Who knows?” His tone is rough and just edgy enough to make me feel the need to squirm. I don’t, thank goodness. “You're a woman. You probably have a better idea than I do.”
This makes me laugh. “You think she's trying to set you up with a woman for Christmas because she wants a grandbaby?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Like I said, I don't know. I'm not a woman, and I'm not a mother. I don’t know why she does half the shit she does.”
Definitely getting testy.
“Right.” I should let him off the hook. I don’t. “Well? Do you want kids?”
His eyes come to mine again, and they really are so dark. They're expressive, too. There's a lot there. A lot to unwrap. A lot to dissect. I'm not sure, even if I did stay the entire three weeks, if I'd have time to do all that.
“I did once,” he admits softer than I expect.
“Once?” I press gently, suddenly desperate to know everything about this secretive man.
“Life has a way of changing things. Making the things you once wanted—things that were once possible—impossible.”
I shake my head. “Nothing's impossible.”
He scowls. “You're delusional.”
“No,” I argue. “I like to think I'm optimistic.”
“We have different opinions on life.”
“It seems we do,” I agree, and I just can’t help myself from adding, “But mine is better.”
He studies me for a beat, chewing, swallowing and taking another bite. When he swallows that bite, he drops a big hand on the counter and leans in. “What was this deal you had with my mother? When you thought you were making it with her?”
It's my turn to pull in breath. I straighten in my chair, giving a nervous little wiggle. At the movement, his eyes drop down to my waist and he pulls his lip in again. Heat moves through me, and my breath catches in my throat. Clearing my throat, I hope he doesn’t know how affected I am by his eyes on me. “Well, we were supposed to spend the holiday together.”
“Just the holiday?” he presses. “You’re here two weeks before Christmas.”
That I am.“Yep, the plan was for me to spend the two weeks before Christmas and one after.”
His brows snap to his hairline. “You planned to stay for three weeks with a stranger?”
“Mmmhmm.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
“And what now?”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Now that you’re leaving after the storm?”
