Cinderella in Overalls - By Carol Grace Page 0,46

nodded eagerly. “All that and more.”

“Then they’ll probably get it. But that’s Duran’s decision. Sometimes a group has everything on paper, but there’s something that doesn’t sit right. That’s when a loan officer uses his intuition.”

“I guess that’s what you used when you decided to take a chance on us.”

He looked thoughtful, but his thoughts weren’t on their loan. “Would you like to come by and see my stove? It’s brand-new with all the latest attachments.”

“I really can’t. The women are waiting for me.” But she didn’t go; she just stood there and watched him, waiting as if her shoes were made of lead and not canvas.

“Who would drive them home if you didn’t?”

“I guess Miguel would, but...”

“Fine. I’ll get someone to take a message. We’ll go see my stove and then we’ll go out to eat. I’ll get you a taxi later. How’s that?” he asked with a smile so dazzling she couldn’t say no. She couldn’t say anything at all.

Her stomach churned. Her knees knocked. Another evening with Josh Bentley. Another chance to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers. She ought to leave. Right now. But her doubts vanished with the wind as he caught her arm and they hurried down the steps onto the street.

Her feet, which had been leaden only moments ago, suddenly flew along the ground, keeping up with his. Together they negotiated the crowded sidewalks, edging around couples walking arm in arm and window shoppers, their faces pressed against the glass of smart shops. In front of the supermarket she paused.

“Instead of going out to dinner we could buy some groceries and initiate your stove,” she suggested.

“Can you cook?”

“Can I cook?” she repeated incredulously. “Can chickens lay eggs? I can cook for barn raisings and church socials. I can cook for field hands and cornhuskers. I ought to be able to cook for one banker with both hands tied behind me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I haven’t had a real meal at home since I got here.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with the food at your favorite restaurant,” she said, pushing the door open. “But it will be interesting to see what they’ve got in here. A little market research on my part. Some comparative shopping.”

He pushed the cart while she walked ahead, picking up cans and putting them back, frowning at prices and raising her eyebrows at the produce. She picked up a head of lettuce. “Shall we have a salad?”

“Sure.” Suddenly self-conscious, he looked around at the other shoppers. “Have you seen any other men in here?” he asked in a loud whisper.

“I don’t think so. In Aruaca only housewives go shopping. Men have better things to do.”

“Like having a siesta on the couch, I’ll bet. I’d rather be with you... in the supermarket. Since I don’t have a couch.”

She snapped some green beans between her fingers. “Day old,” she whispered, and Josh rolled his eyes in dismay. “But we’ll make do,” she assured him, “with a little lemon juice and butter.” Then she found the meat counter and told the butcher to wrap up two thick lamb chops.

Standing in line at the checkout counter, Catherine stood on tiptoe and whispered in Josh’s ear. “The vegetables aren’t as good as ours. And they’re twice as expensive.”

“But there’s no bargaining. That’s what I like.”

She smiled, thinking of him standing in front of her with the mangoes in his hand, placing the money in her palm. Still feeling the touch of his fingers as he closed her hand and held it tightly. Remembering how the sounds of the market had faded around her. There was no shouting in this supermarket, no gleeful cries or arguments over the prices.

Josh paid the clerk and carried the groceries in one hand, using the other to link with Catherine’s as he led her through the streets to his apartment. While they waited to cross the street, he tapped his foot against the pavement impatiently. He wanted to see her reaction to his apartment. He tried to picture her there with her wide skirts and her hat and her braid. Could she fit into his life? Would she want to? Probably not. And whatever he wanted he had no right to draw her into his life. There was no place for her or for dreams. He needed to become more secure before he could forget about his poor, lonely childhood and make plans for his future. He’d