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“I can afford to pay your rates,” she says. She doesn’t sound offended, just confused.
“I know. It’s not about that,” I reply. “Part of me feels like I’m doing this for Ol’ Man Sawyer. We were friends, and I never realized just how bad the cabin had gotten toward the end of his life. I wish I had. If I did, I would’ve helped him. No, Miss Sawyer. This one is on me. I don't mind the work. Plus, I like the challenge. And, to be honest..."
I pause, wondering if it's too early to shoot my shot. But goddamn it, I'm not going to be able to spend two weeks working on her house while I'm lusting after her.
And it’s not like telling her I’m interested is disrespecting her. If anything, she seems like the kind of woman who appreciates honesty. I’ve always been a straightshooter and I’m not going to stop that now.
So I just say it out loud, sparing us both the burden of waiting any longer. "I want to spend more time with you," I say.
Her cheeks flush pink and she looks down at her beer. "Oh."
"I know it's probably not the smoothest thing to say," I add with a chuckle. "But it's the truth."
She sets her beer down, licking her lips. "You're not...you're not messing with me?"
I shake my head, taking a step closer to her. "I wouldn't do that to you, Claire. I'm serious. My mama raised me to be a straight shooter."
She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. When she finds none, she nods slowly.
"I...I don't know if I'm ready for anything like that," she admits. "I've kind of had some stuff happen--stuff that made me leave the city. I should’ve left earlier but...my last relationship didn’t work out. It was rough."
"That's okay," I say quickly. I understand having to leave and not wanting to talk about it. I've done that myself. "I'm not trying to push you into anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel."
She nods again, a small smile playing at her lips. "I appreciate your honesty," she says.
"Of course," I say, taking a sip of my beer. "So...what do you say we finish these beers and get back to work?"
"Sounds like a plan," she says, picking up her bottle.
We finish our beers in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company without the pressure of needing to say anything. When we're done, we head back outside and get back to work. I wrap up on the roof a few hours later, and when I descend the ladder, she's waiting in her fuzzy sweater again.
"Hey," she says. "I was thinking about what you said, and I think..."
She pauses.
I give her an encouraging smile. "You can talk, Claire. I don't bite."
She shakes her head. "You're just—you know what, screw it. Do you want to get drinks tonight?"
I raise my eyebrows. It's not really ordinary for the roles to be reversed when it comes to who asks who out on dates around here...but I like her. She's bold, and somehow shy at the same time.
And who the hell am I that I could possibly say no?
"'Course," I say. "The Snowcap? I’ll swing by and pick you up around eight o'clock?"
Claire gives me a sweet smile.
"Yeah," she says. "It's a date."
Chapter five
Claire
Ihaven'tbeenona real date in six years--what Harvey and I were doing absolutely doesn’t count--and it's just now hitting me that saying yes to Gray was a mistake.
For one thing, I'm out of practice and I've never been a flirt. Most nights, I prefer to stay in and cozy up with a good book. When I lived in Portland and worked at Glitter Bomb, I normally worked all day and tried desperately to rest at night. I even saved up a little nest egg for the baby that Harvey and I were trying to have.
But the bottom line is that I. Do. Not. Go. Out.
