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“How’s the book coming along?” she asks. Another obvious sign of how she gets annoyed at herself for feeling jealous—she changes the topic.
“Swimmingly.”
“That’s not a word,” she says, leaning back, relaxing again. Avoiding.
“Are we going to play this game again?”
“I’ll bet dinner on it.”
“I’ve eaten here before. Dinner can be quite expensive.” I wink to antagonize her. “You sure you want to take that bet?”
She straightens her spine, defensive. “I can afford it.”
“I’m not judging you, Charlie, just letting you know.” I hope she doesn’t think I’m teasing or taunting her. I know this place is more on the higher end. I would’ve ordered something different if I’d known she’d be buying, something less expensive.
“You must be very confident?”
“I am. And you like my confidence.”
She rolls her eyes in that cute way she does when she feels I’m being arrogant then grabs her phone from her bag and searches for ‘swimmingly.’ Dropping her phone into her purse with attitude, she takes another large gulp of wine. “Sometimes you really frustrate me, Charlie Adams.”
I’m right on the word, but I have a feeling it’s the thought of me dating that really frustrates her. “I know.” I lean in close and whisper, “And it’s so fun to push those buttons of yours.”
“Speaking of buttons, how many dates have you been on in the last six months, anyway?”
I’m so right. She attempts to wrap her jealousy into a casual question. Our food arrives, but it feels intrusive to the moment we’re having.
When we’re alone again, I reply, “Not many. I’ve got pork.” Her eyes flash to mine. “I’ve got pork loin. You should get your mind out of the gutter.”
She laughs. “I like being in the gutter. Ooh, I got salmon. You want a taste?”
I nod and open my mouth. She slips the fork in and drags it slowly back out. “Yes, yours is delicious. Open up.”
Feeding her a bite of mine, I watch her lips gently cover the tines of my fork and pull back.
“I like the pineapple chutney with it. What does ‘not many’ mean? Under fifty, more than three?”
I can’t keep from laughing. She’s so jealous. Why will she not admit this to herself? I want this relationship to become more, but only when she’s onboard of her own accord. I won’t push to make this happen, but I’m willing to wait and see where this goes.
Until she says, “Maybe you should date.”
I stare at her in astonishment. “Really?” Lame response, but that’s all that’s coming to me right now. Questions start to fill my head and get me wondering. Maybe she’s seeing someone. Maybe she wants to see someone and feels guilty because of me. “Are you dating?”
“No.”
I watch her take a bite of her food, chewing so slow before she takes another sip of wine. “Why not?” I ask.
“Just haven’t been feeling it, or maybe I haven’t met the right one yet.”
That’s a punch to the heart. I should wait to respond when I have a rational reply, but my heart overrules my head. “I think I’ll call her back right now and set it up.”
“Why?” Her words are rushed. “What’s the big deal? You can’t wait? I thought we were eating?”
Relief washes over me. She may know how to push all of my buttons, too, but even she realizes she went too far this time. I smile at her, glad she stopped this silly game before it turned ugly. She cares more than she lets on, that’s for damn sure. Now, how can I make her admit she wants to be with me when she can’t seem to see it herself?
This is the challenge I face. Nothing great was ever achieved by taking the easy route, I remind myself.
“You’re right. We are, and just for the record, Rachel is the only one I’ve been on a date with since we met.” I hold up my wineglass and offer a toast. “To good food and the two of us living in the here and now.”
Chapter 20
Charlie A
The first of July brings hotter weather, it’s lighter later, and I find my mind drifting off to the thought of beaches, vacations, and Charlie in a bikini. I wonder if she wears bikinis. With a body like hers, I hope she does. That’s a nice image.
I’d like to spend more time picturing Charlie in a bikini, but I need to concentrate on the book because the first part of it is due to my editor soon. Turning back to my laptop, I continue writing.
* * *
My Everything ~
Her laugh didn’t sound like bells chiming, or birds singing. It was better than that. Her laugh was hardy and sometimes punctuated with a snort or two at the end, and I absolutely could not get enough of it. I was willing to embarrass myself on purpose just to invoke it.
