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Maybe there was something in the lasagna, the fennel perhaps, that had lit the fire within me. Maybe it was the thrill of fighting my fear and feeling a little on top of the world from the adrenaline rush. Maybe though, it was the good-looking, totally wrong-for-me guy sitting across the table giving me bedroom eyes. Whatever it was, I wanted to strip off his clothes and properly thank him for the wonderful meal and interesting afternoon.
“I prefer directness and honesty.”
“That’s something I can get behind too. No one likes a liar.” I dropped my gaze quickly to the bread and grabbed a slice. “So, tell me about your family. Are you the younger brother?”
“Nope, older,andwiser. As for the family, well, it’s just Eric and me, and now, Lily, her son, and their baby due any day.”
“That’s exciting. Babies are a lot of work though.”
He snorted. “Indeed. I’m happy to be the uncle, but I don’t think I want any kids of my own. It messes things up too much.”
Although I agreed, I wasn’t going to say as much. “Not a family guy?”
“Family man? Yes, but not my own. I’m too set in my ways to have someone take control of my life, dictating when to eat and sleep and go out. And I don’t like a mess. If I leave the remote on the table, I know it will be there the next time I want it.”
I laughed, as this was even better than I imagined. “Eternal party boy?”
He tipped his head to the side and chewed thoughtfully on a bite of garlic bread. “Used to be. Now I’m more of a quiet night-at-home kind. Hang around the bonfire with my friends and family – living my best life.”
“Interesting.” As I scanned his place, he didn’t appear the quintessential party guy, his place was too neat and polished. There was more care put into his living room than there had been in the house I grew up in.
“What about you?” He added a third piece of garlic bread to his plate. “This is really good, by the way.”
“Thanks. I’ve spent a lot of time honing my skills.”
“With Sylvia?”
“No.” I shook my head. “And I’m not even close to her levels, however, I’ll make fresh dough for my friend Erin and her daughter, and we’ll bake something out of it. It’s a fun way to spend a Sunday.”
“Sounds like a nice activity.”
At least it had been. Erin spent a lot of time with David these days, so our last two Sunday bake days were cancelled, not that I’d blamed her. She’d never had a boyfriend she claimed, at least not since Vera was born, so it was nice for her to have some male company, even if it did push our friendship to the side slightly. As much as I missed our get-togethers, I was happy for her.
I put a forkful of lasagna into my mouth and looked anywhere but at him.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, why?” I said, after swallowing, wondering if another errant thought had been spoken out loud.
“You just got real quiet.”
“Oh sorry. I was thinking. Of how things change. You get used to one thing, and something pops up in your life, and suddenly, you’re on a different track.” I crossed my legs and leaned against the backrest.
He nodded. “I get that.”
“I’ve just never felt a part of anything, always drifting from one thing to another.”
“Really?”
“It’s true.” I took a drink. “All my life, until recently, I never had anything to call my own, whether it was something materialistic, or relationship-wise.”
He set his fork down and leaned in. “Seriously? Now I’m super curious about your life. Haven’t you always lived here?”
“Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ sound and tried to get the wavy lasagna noodle to fit between the tines of my fork. “Grew up about three, maybe four hours away. More towards the middle of the island.”
He set his elbows on the table and tipped his head to the side. It was cute and endearing. “What do you mean when you say you’ve never owned anything of your own?”
“Simple, really. Nothing was ever mine. Everything was shared.”
