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It was the only thing her brain, in its weakened state, could figure.
“Alexander. It was very good, Alexander.”
He smiled a little, and she felt that she had done the right thing.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel that everything was surreal. Her boss was sitting in her mom’s backyard, on the ground, wanting her to call him by his first name. Calling her by hers, and feeding her tarts. What in the world was going on?
It was all a little too much. Maybe it was the stuff of dreams, but believing that dream was real was harder than she thought it would be.
Call her a coward, but she scrambled to her feet, then made herself walk slowly and sedately a few more steps toward the lake, where she stopped, ostensibly to look at the view.
“This is so pretty. My mom has the best backyard in the entire world.”
“I don’t know. The house we’re supposed to look at tomorrow has a pretty nice view from the front yard.” He shifted a little, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at it. “Great. The real estate agent moved our appointment to one o’clock. That should give us enough time to go to church, maybe grab a bite to eat, and ride up the beach just a little ways, if I understand correctly.”
“And you want me to go with you?” she said, hating that she sounded breathless. He was sitting in her yard, feeding her tarts, and she was going to look at a house with him. Of course, it was because he wanted her to work with him, but still. It was just...odd.
“I said I did. Do I typically say things I don’t mean?”
“No. You don’t.” She turned around, putting a relaxed smile on her face and forcing herself to not show how disconcerted he had made her with his total departure from his norm.
“You’re not prone to pacing. Is there a problem?” he asked as he lifted the plate of tarts and picked another one.
She was not going to allow him to feed her again. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but despite the crush that she had on him for years, she wasn’t the kind of girl who had a fling and particularly not the kind who had a fling with her boss.
Still, she could admire the strong fingers, the competent manner, the way he looked at home wherever he was.
“No problem. I guess... It’s just odd seeing you out of the office.” She could be honest. “And you’re right that I fed you a tart in the diner, and I suppose you owed me, but that just feels a little bit like a breach of the professionalism that has always been between us. I... I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” That she was interested in anything other than a serious, long-term relationship. Which, to her knowledge, Alexander did not do.
She had been the one who had hired women, from a reputable agency, of course, for him to escort to various functions. Not every time. Several times, he’d taken famous actresses, and once he’d taken the daughter of a senator. But it typically wasn’t the same woman twice, and never twice in a row.
“I’m sorry.”
He sounded contrite. Maybe a little surprised. But he didn’t elaborate. Thankfully, because she really didn’t want him to. She didn’t want him to say that that wasn’t what he was doing at all. That he wasn’t pushing her or attracted to her in any way, just trying to be more relaxed because of the small-town atmosphere and the fact that they were outside of the normal business setting.
That she’d taken everything wrong.
She felt her cheeks heating, but she ignored that and went back over, sitting down with a little more room between them.
If he noticed, he didn’t comment. He offered her the plate of tarts, and she took one.
“No. You are right. I...didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
She didn’t say anything but took the plate silently, hoping he didn’t notice that her hands trembled.
She swallowed and wished they had decided to eat in the diner, because she would be enjoying this a lot more. She’d be less nervous, less...embarrassed.
“About church. If I’m staying here—you keep calling this your mom’s house, but I saw the bed-and-breakfast sign in the front when we walked by, and so I assume this is her place.”
“Yes. I can show you to your attic room when we’re done eating.”
“I appreciate it. I want to get some work done before I go to bed tonight. In the meantime, where should I pick you up?”
“I have a little cottage, right over there. That’s where I stay when I’m in town.” She pointed in the general direction of her one-room cottage. It was on the lot adjacent to her mom’s farm and part of the original homestead which her mom owned. Her brothers had built the cottage when they were teens, and all the siblings together had added a well and septic.
There was no kitchen, just a bed and a little desk. She bummed the internet from her mom’s house and used the space heater in the winter for heat.
It wasn’t much of anything, but it was a place to land when she stayed, especially during the summer when the bed-and-breakfast was booked up.
