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EZMITA
I had spent the past two days cleaning house, moving in, and shopping at the local consignment stores for things to make this place look like mine. Now, I stood in the living room. The pretty teal afghan I had bought thrown over the faded tan sofa brightened it up. Pictures of my family and me with my friends back in Nashville sat on the mantel. A large slightly faded and overstuffed red chair now had a brightly colored throw pillow on it. I had moved it to the left of the sofa and turned it slightly so it was facing the fireplace.
I had made it mine, and I loved it. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I spun in a circle to take it all in. Sure,there was more I needed to buy once I could afford it, but for now I had all I truly required.
A knock on the front door interrupted my happy moment, and I hoped my momma hadn’t decided to bring those awful throw pillows she had tried to make me take yesterday. Walking to the door, I began preparing my speech as to why they wouldn’t work with my décor. There was a good chance she would force me to take them and I would have to keep them in the closet and only pull them out when she was visiting.
I took a quick peek out the window to the right of the door and when my eyes found the back of Asa Griffith’s tall, muscular build I froze. That was the very last person I had expected it to be. Letting the curtain fall back into place before he turned and caught me looking at him, I took a deep, calming breath and then went to straighten my hair when I realized it was in a bun. The same bun I had slept in last night. Groaning, I glanced down at my dirty work clothing and wanted to cry. The cutoff jeans and once-pink tank top were old, and I had dirt, dust, and, I was just noticing, some cookie batter across my boobs.
Another knock on the door, and I sighed. It didn’t matter what I looked like. It was Asa. He didn’t care. I was no longer the young girl trying to get his attention. I was an independent woman who didn’t need the appreciation of aman to feel good about myself. With that mini pep talk, I opened the door and put a smile on my face.
“Hello,” I said in greeting.
Asa’s grin made my stomach flutter, and I felt like in that moment my stomach was a traitor to the rest of my body. “Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he replied.
I glanced down at myself. “Nope. Although it looks like I could use a shower. I’ve been cleaning most of the day.”
“Need any help?” he asked.
My cheeks heated because I knew he meant cleaning, but still it put other images in my head and I wished they would go away.
“With the moving, that is. I assume you can handle the shower on your own.”
A nervous laugh bubbled out of me, and his grin broke into one of those big smiles that made my knees weak. Damn, my knees were traitors now.
“I, uh, no thanks. I think it’s all done,” I replied, then stepped back from the door. “You can come in if you would like.” Why was I inviting him inside? What was I doing?
Asa stepped into my house, and it looked even smaller with him in it. “Smells like cookies,” he said, looking around.
“I just took a batch out of the oven a few minutes ago,” I told him. “Chocolate chip,” I added, then thought about the batter on my tank top.
“Those are my favorite,” he said, his gaze on me instead of the house.
I didn’t doubt it. Asa liked sweets. “Follow me,” I replied, unable to keep the grin off my face. For a moment, it was as if five years hadn’t happened and things were just as we’d left them. But only for a moment.
I walked into the kitchen and placed three cookies on a plate, then took a glass from the cabinet and poured a glass of milk. When I turned back to him, Asa was watching me. “Here you go,” I said, handing the cookies and milk to him. “Have a seat.” I waved my hand at the table behind him and then went to pull out a chair and sit down.
“Thanks. I didn’t know I would be getting cookies when I came to see you. I should have come sooner,” he told me, then winked. It was just a wink. Guys had winked at me before. It wasn’t something exclusive to Asa. However, the way my entire body responded to his winking at me was the issue.
Why? Why did he have to look like this? Why did I have to feel things for him? Why? It was so unfair. I hadn’t regretted my decision five years ago. Not one time, until this week. Now I kept wondering, what if I had followed him to Mississippi? What if we had stayed together? What if? Ugh, that would never have happened. He was gorgeous, for starters, and the girls would have been all over him.
“When did you decide to become a teacher?” he asked me.
I snapped out of my inner debate, grateful for the distraction. My thoughts had become a dangerous place. “My second year of college,” I told him. “What about you? What did you major in?”
His smirk as he chewed up the bite of cookie in his mouth was intriguing. I had wondered more than once what it was he had chosen to do with his life since hearing he hadn’t gone into the NFL draft like everyone thought he would.
“Spanish,” he replied, then took a drink of milk.
“Spanish?” I repeated, knowing I heard him correctly but trying to process it. Why would he major in Spanish?
He nodded. “Yeah. Spanish. I want to teach it along with coaching high school football.”
He was going to teach Spanish. I laughed then.
“Is that funny?” he asked me, his grin tugging at his lips.
I shrugged. “Yes but I don’t know why. I guess I wasn’t expecting you to tell me Spanish. I was thinking a business degree or something to do with sports medicine.”
