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“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite,” he says in his warm, easygoing voice.
My mind instantly recalls how Hobo always sounds like he hasn’t spoken in a while and isn’t sure he wants to try again. I feel special when he shares with me. That’s why leading on Francis is pointless. No matter what happens with Hobo, the wild man is all I want. Every other man will come up short.
Standing, I struggle for a way to explain the situation that won’t offend Francis or his grandmother.
“I don’t know how long my business will be open,” I say, twisting the truth with a few lies. “Once it closes, I might not be able to stay in town. It seems best not to make promises I can’t keep.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“Yes, but what if we enjoy ourselves? We might want another dinner. That’s three dinners. We’re talking first-base action by then.”
Francis chuckles at my words. “No, I see what you mean. But what if those dinners and the first-base action lead to a reason for you to remain in McMurdo Valley? There’s more to this town than your shop. You have skills many people would be happy to make use of.”
His logic is sound. If Hobo wasn’t all I craved, I might be capable of building a life with Francis in McMurdo Valley.
Except I no longer want glossy Christmas cards and nice men with respectable jobs. My heart is set on what only Hobo can offer.
None of this information will help Francis. He’s a normal guy looking at a woman with enough qualities to ask out for a second date. I’m not the love of his life, but he’s at an age where settling is an option.
I thought I was at that point, too. After so much waiting, I wanted something,just anything, to hold on to and give my life meaning. Now, I can only be satisfied by another taste of a man who might never offer me one.
“I’m not in the right headspace to go on another date,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Until I know I’m staying, I can’t accept a meal that isn’t between just two friends.”
Francis doesn’t hide his disappointment well. His words ought to have convinced me. They make sense. Our date went well. He’s a catch for a woman my age. What’s the holdup?
Still believing he can sway me, Francis reaches out to stroke my cheek. Without thinking, I flinch away.
What if Hobo’s watching us? I can’t hurt that man, even if I know his interest will fade.
Or do I worry Francis’s touch will taint the way my body’s hummed since Hobo last kissed me?
No matter the reason, I step away and shake my head. “I need space to figure things out.”
Finally, Francis relents. At least, for now. After he makes a little small talk, Francis returns to the back porch where his grandmother still sits. I finish checking on the cat who lets me stroke her two-tone coat.
I wonder what Hobo would think about Rose. He seemed irritated when I mentioned her yesterday.
Behind me, Velma’s back door slams. I peek around the side of the house to see they’ve gone inside. I hoped if I let Francis down in a way that made me the loser that his grandmother wouldn’t take it personally.
I signed a year lease with her. If I walk away early, I owe her a few months rent as a penalty. I can’t imagine that’s why she’s upset.
Velma seems driven to get her grandson hitched. She started mentioning him during our first conversation on the phone when I called about the rental.
If Velma decides to lash out over Francis and me, I’ll deal with it. Just like when the shop closes or if Kendra starts trouble. I’m no longer going to obsess over the future.
“Don’t scream,” Hobo says from behind me as I peer around the side of the guesthouse toward Velma’s place.
Even recognizing his voice, I spin around and nearly let out a startled squeal. His wide hand covers my mouth, cutting off my yelp. I stare at him as my fear turns to joy.
Hobo doesn’t remove his hand immediately. He lets his fingers linger before they lift and slide down my throat. I can’t hide my shiver as his touch awakens an intoxicating need inside me.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I mumble.
Hobo steps back and looks me over. His gaze feels like fingers stroking my flesh.
“I brought you these. Don’t make too much of it,” Hobo explains and hands me a bouquet of red roses. “I was going to grab flowers from the meadow or something, but I know how you ladies like your fancier stuff.”
Feeling lightheaded, I inch closer. “I just want to see you.”
