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She did trust him. Appreciated him. Liked him.
And she needed to find him a date. Not move in on the client herself.
The other men left quietly and once the door had closed behind them, Mick headed toward the kitchen. “I’m starved. I hope you don’t mind me taking you up on your offer of pizza and beer.” His velvety bass voice ruffled through her still-raw nerves, soothing away the pain of the last few years. How it was possible, she couldn’t fathom. But every time he spoke. Every time he looked at her with those big brown eyes, she melted.
“No, please. Help yourself. It’s on the kitchen counter. The beer is in the soft cooler on the floor.”
He opened the top cardboard box and sighed the contented sigh patented by men around the world. The one that said I’ve-never-been-happier-to-see-food-and-this-looks-great. Mirth curved her lips upward. It’d been too long since she’d heard that sigh. Her dad used to make it. Her brother. She hadn’t seen them since her last wedding—five years Lance had kept her isolated. Each year becoming worse. Each year she’d buried herself deeper and deeper into her work. Then he’d taken that away from her too.
She should’ve called her family when she got the divorce, but shame kept her from pressing the button. How they must hate her for abandoning them. She hated herself for it too. The least she could do is get a new business up and running. A house in some kind of order. Perhaps some semblance of a life. Then maybe, just maybe she could face her family. Show them the last five years hadn’t been a complete waste of her time. Show them her marriage to Lance hadn’t been a mistake. Hadn’t stripped her of everything in her life she’d valued.
“Deep thoughts for pizza and beer.” She glanced up, taken by surprise at his again-nearness. Mick held out a paper plate with one slice in the center. “Slice for your thoughts?”
Her mouth had a will of it’s own. “All of you surprised me today.”
“In a good way I hope.” He nudged her with the plate again and she took it. He turned back toward the island covered in food and pulled out a paper cup. “Wine or beer?” he asked, his ass making her nearly forget the plate in her hand. The scent of pepperoni swirled through her nostrils, but her focus was too lasered in on the man in her kitchen offering to get her a drink. The sexy-bearded-flannel-wearing man she needed to get a date.Get in the game Laurel. He is not for me.Even so, nothing said she couldn’t get to know him a little better as a client. It would help her find the right woman for him. The very idea of him going out with someone else grated against her psyche like metal shavings being ground in a food processor. It wasn’t going to be pretty at the end. And the processor would likely be broken in the end.
“Wine, please.” She gulped a breath and pulled her stare away from the man’s perfect ass. At least he hadn’t turned around and seen her unprofessional drool.
He stood with a beer in one hand and one of the single-serve wine glasses in the other. “I’ve never seen anyone drink these.” He peeled the seal off her wine glass and handed it to her.
“No reason to buy good wine for pizza.” She shrugged and took a sip. “It’s actually decent for what it is.”
His lips lifted just slightly. No smile, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Should we sit?” He waved his heaping plate toward her newly set up dining table.
“Absolutely.” The long hand-hewn farm table was exactly what this old space had needed. The dark grey stain popped against the lighter stone-tiled floor. It would look fabulous once she got a designer’s opinion on some window dressings. Even though coming to Somewhere had been more of an accident than a purposeful choice, the house hunting had been taken very seriously. The old farmhouse reminded her of home. Of growing up in Tyler. Her dad would love it…if she could ever get up the guts to tell him she was here. Ever get up the guts to ask for his forgiveness for not listening to him when he begged her not to marry Lance.
“There go those thoughts again. You okay, Laurel?” He sat at the end of the table, next to her, but on a corner. The perfect blend of closeness and space. She could see him. Touch him if she reached out, but wouldn’t accidentally bump into him without trying.Why am I considering bumping into him at all? I’m crazy. A mess. A man is the last thing I need complicating my life right now.But the only thing she could seem to imagine in the movie-screen-of-her-mind was Mick’s arms wrapped around her like a blanket. A big flannel afghan that cuddled. He was a cuddler. Something about him screamed that he was a giant teddy bear in need of a hug. Or two. Or ten.
“Oh, just reminiscing about growing up. This place reminds me of home.”
“I didn’t peg you as a small-town girl.”
“Used to be. It’s just been…a long time.”
He nodded and cocked his head at a tilt, studying her again with those turn-your-knees-to-jelly eyes. Honey-brown eyes like those shouldn’t be legal.
“So tell me about yourself and this event you need a date for?”
That broke the moment. The desire and eagerness and interest faded to insecurity and discomfort. God, why did he want to go to this event so much if the thought of taking someone with him was so stressful?
He took a swig from his beer and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his wide chest, and cutting off the openness she’d been drawn to. “I really don’t want this getting around town.”
She nodded, nibbling at the crust of her pizza slice. “Cone of silence.”
He snorted out a laugh, letting some of the sparkle return to his eyes. “I won a new voice screen writing contest and a pair of tickets to the Oscars.”
Air refused to move inside her lungs for several seconds. “Wow. That’s huge. Congratulations. I didn’t…” Laurel said, “I wouldn’t have—”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t really fit the bill, huh? Thirty-something-feed-store-manager from a town with literally no name screams Hollywood screen writer.”
Guilt sobered her instantly. She shook her head. “People come with all sorts of wrappings. Look at me. You never would’ve guessed I grew up in a town half the size of this one. On a farm nonetheless.” No one had a right to judge him for his loves, especially not her.
“You seem like the kind of person that makes anything work for them.”
Laurel’s skin warmed and it wasn’t just the wine. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you the perfect date. Your trip will be fantastic.”
His gaze dropped for a second. Just a flash of unhappiness, but it’d been there. She noticed little things like that. People’s faces were easy to read if you’d had enough practice.
