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Ursula came here straight from work, but her hair looks freshly styled, and there’s a hint of makeup on her eyes and cheeks. She looks stunning, as always.
“No trouble finding the place, I hope.”
She shakes her head. “Nope! But you didn’t mention you were all the way out in the boonies. I would have downloaded an audiobook for the ride.”
I stand aside and gesture for her to come inside. “Yeah, I took for grant that most people know where the Taylor Ranch is. Sorry I didn’t give you the heads up.”
“No problem, it was a pretty drive. And this house is great!”
My chest aches so badly watching her smile brighten when she walks into my kitchen and sees the two plates on the table. “Did you make dinner? It smells amazing. And to answer your earlier question: yes, I’m starving.”
“I just threw a few things together. It’s a cardinal rule with me; if you’re coming over to help me, I have to feed you.” I pull out her chair and take her handbag, setting it in one of the spare chairs.
“I like that philosophy a lot,” she says, taking her seat and leaning over the table to inhale the spices. “All that and a matching set of kitchen chairs and dishes. I like that, too. Although it’s not like I’m here to help you build a deck or anything. I’m just here to judge your clothes.”
“On the contrary, a last-minute miso glazed beef stir fry is the proportionate response.” On the contrary? Who am I, Sherlock Holmes? I’m just happy she’s digging right in without waiting for me, ignoring what a dork I am.
“What would the proportionate response be to helping you hang a picture on the wall?” Ursula asks curiously, stabbing a hunk of beef.
I think for a moment. “Homemade supreme nachos.”
She covers her mouth with her napkin as she chuckles. “Remind me to come over and help you hang some pictures then, because this food is delicious.”
I can barely describe how happy that makes me that she likes my cooking.
“Okay,” she continues, “what if I helped you wallpaper the bathroom?” I love how careful she is not to talk with her mouth full, yet also doesn’t let her food get cold while we carry on this conversation.
“Wow, that’s a time commitment. That gets you paella.”
“You make paella?” Ursula exclaims.
“Not every weekend or anything, but yeah, I can manage that,” I say, puffing my chest out proudly.
“Okay, fancy pants. Here’s the ultimate test of friendship: helping you move.”
“Easy,” I reply. “That’s takeout pizza and beer. Always takeout pizza and beer.”
“What?!” Ursula cackles. “That is not a fair trade-off for a whole day spent moving boxes across town.”
“Think about it. If I’m moving, the pots and pans are all packed. Nobody wants to deal with a lot of clean-up. It’s paper plates and pizza or McDonald’s.”
“You’re right, I’ll take the pizza,” she acquiesces. “Not that I’m helping you move. This place is exactly the kind of house I pictured you in. And the property is so pretty.”
This shouldn’t hurt me as much as it does. This shouldn’t hurt at all because she’s right. I don’t have any reason to move out of here and into anybody else’s space. I may as well be part of the landscape. Even with new people, I can’t shake the cowboy image.
All of it is a reminder that I’ve thought way too far in advance about Ursula and me being a thing. I’m no spring chicken, and I’m thinking way too much about a serious relationship.
And Ursula isn’t ready for us to be a thing.
ChapterFour
Ursula
This dinner was going well.
Until it wasn’t. Noah got weirdly quiet after I waxed on and on about his ranch house. I don’t get it.
“I mean, be glad you’re settled in. It’s tough to find rentals these days,” I say, filling in the silence. “I ended up in that ramshackle Victorian house in one of ten units the size of a toaster. It’s all good now that the Wood Brothers bought it and fixed it up, but man it really sucked having to relocate to a hotel in Gold Hill and commute, even with the reimbursements they gave me.”
