AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Absolutely.”
I might have answered too quickly. I didn’t really see myself asthatwoman, angry at the world because I was still single in my late thirties, but come on.Chocolate.
Carlos looked at me the same way I watched ASPCA commercials on late-night TV. Sad and maybe a little horrified, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“Pretty set on that choice, are you?” Duncan asked.
Was it me, or was the lighting making his eyes sparkle? Had to be the lights.
“Well…” I pretended to at least consider the alternative. “I’ve had alotof first rate chocolate.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “No first rate men?”
I made a face. “More like generic store brand. You think it’s going to be good, but then you actually get it and realize you’re stuck chewing on tasteless, sub-par candy.”
Okay, maybe Iwasthat woman. I didn’t have a line of awful relationships behind me, they’d just been…less than expected. Underwhelming. Nothing I’d give up Godiva for without some serious thought behind it.
Laughter rumbled through him. “Sounds like we need to find you a better quality man.”
“Amen to that.”
ten
The next morning,Duncan sat next to me for the hour ride to Inverness, and I opened up the conversation by yawning massively behind my hand.
He side-eyed me. “Don’t tell me this trip is too much for you.”
“I think it’s still the jet lag.” I’d stayed up past midnight sorting out website bugs, but jet lag sounded better than admitting to working furtively in the middle of my vacation. “What do you do in construction? Everyone seems to dance around those kinds of questions here, but I’m curious.”
Basic questions about jobs back home hadn’t cycled through as typical small talk among the Brits in the group. Carlos had no problem asking people questions about themselves, but the others mostly discussed things like food and places they’d been.
Duncan laughed, but it wasn’t unkind. “Americans are more straightforward. You ask personal questions right away. In the U.K., we’re more reserved until we get to know people. Then you’ll have a hard time enduring our forthrightness.”
“Then Bea must feel she knows me very well,” I whispered.
“It isn’t the same across the board,” he whispered back.
“I didn’t think asking about someone’s job was a personal question.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Depends on what the someone does.”
“So you’re saying you’re some kind of construction ninja spy?”
He laughed, but I went on watching him, waiting for an answer.
After a minute, one side of his mouth turned up. “I run a construction company that specializes in historical renovations.”
Why did that sound like the coolest job around?
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Since I was a boy, really. My father was a carpenter. He did custom trim work, windows, doors, mantelpieces. I learned at his side.”
I thought of the old house I rented with its original crown molding and wooden built-ins. Might be nice to see it in all its glory. “So that was your opportunity? The thing that took you to London?”
“London is a good market for my line of work, so I made the decision to leap out on my own.”
“Just like that?”
