chin toward the back door. “Safe to go out there?”
Her curious look makes me smile. “Just need to open these where they won’t douse everything.” When her expression doesn’t change, I explain. “They looked kind of shook up.”
“Oh. Right.”
Outside, the rickety back stoop complains under my weight. I’m tempted to complain back. Keeping in shape’s a lot harder at forty-three than it was at thirty. I manage, but it hurts. Arms outstretched, I pull both tabs. One lets out a spray. The other behaves. I’ll give her that one.
I take a long look at her postage stamp of a yard. It’s bigger than mine, since I’ve got my workshop out back. She’s landscaped a bit. It’s nice. No wonder Squid’s always trying to slip through the hole in the fence. I don’t blame him.
Back in her glowing kitchen, I accept a plate. “My dog still come over here when I’m working?”
She throws me a shy smile. “Is that okay?”
“You kidding? He loves it here.”
“I like him.” Something sly passes over her face. “I may have bought treats recently.”
I snort. “Yeah, well, don’t call me when he decides to move in.”
I catch the edge of her adorable smile as she leads the way up the hall to the dining room. She hesitates in the doorway. “Here? Or…” She waves toward the front.
“Living room.”
She turns a light on, illuminating the almost empty space. Low table, thick rug, a single ratty armchair, covered in another woven piece.
“Take the chair.” She sinks to the floor by the table. I ignore her invitation and join her on the rug, sitting to her right, which puts our bodies perpendicular and our knees close.
After a funny little smile, she eats. And it’s something to see. Not ravenous, so much as delighted. It’s an event for her, which I like. Prying one piece up, enjoying the stretch of melted cheese, moaning under her breath at the first bite. It’s all I can do to eat my own piece without staring. The beer will help. I hold my can up in a toast. She’s clearly pleased with that, too, grabbing hers and slamming it against mine too fast and too hard so that it sloshes over both of our hands. I can’t help but smile at her giggle. It’s catching. I find myself laughing with her in a way I haven’t in years.
“Cheers,” I say before taking a long pull.
“Oh!” She wipes her first sip off her lips and meets my gaze. “Cheers!” She slaps her can to mine, clearly pleased.
Christ, she’s cute. Christ, I shouldn’t be here.
And yet, here I am.
I grab my slice, fold it and shove half into my mouth. It’s not until I’ve polished off the first and gone for the second that I notice the way she’s watching me.
It’s the same way she looked at her pizza before putting it in her mouth.
Everything falls away. I’m hard as nails now, and plagued by guilt. I set my plate down and lean in. “I can’t be with you, Jerusha.”
She pauses mid-bite, eyes wide. They’re so huge, if she even thinks about crying, I’ll be able to tell.
“Okay.” Something shifts. She finishes the bite and nods. “Would you, um, mind explaining?”
“I’m too old for you.”
3
Get off
Jerusha
I fight the desire to look away from his steady gaze. To focus on my plate or my hands or any acceptable location. I was brought up, after all, not to look a man in the eye.
And, goodness, Papa wouldn’t approve of this one.
Which is something I’ve questioned over the last week. Is that what draws me to him? Is it the forbidden thing?
No, I tell myself again. Only this time I can be a million times more certain, because he’s right here—in my house, sitting on a rug I made with my own hands, watching me with warm, dark eyes that are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. No, this isn’t about home. This is about me. And him. And the way I feel when he’s near.
Too old for me? No, way. “Why?” I force myself to ask.
“Why am I too old?” He looks astonished. “You’re, what? Twenty-five?”
“Yes.”
“I’m forty-three.”
I nod, waiting for more. When nothing comes, I put my plate down, reach for my beer and take a sip. I like the bubbles—that’s not something we had growing up—but I’m not too fond of the bitterness. I’ll have to see if I can find one more to my taste.
“So far, you’ve given me two numbers.” I feel my expression