and Clay was up for debate. The man’s earlier words had felt flirty, but Daphne wasn’t sure if he was being nice or was truly attracted to her. She’d heard rumors about him from Ellery. He liked to sleep around with various women, so maybe he wasn’t so choosy. Or maybe she just wanted him to want her. Pathetic as it was.
“Wow, you set the table and everything,” Clay said, handing her the glass that was now in need of replenishing. Maybe she’d gulped it a bit too fast.
Daphne glanced at the slightly faded zinnias she’d gathered from the cutting garden beside the barn and the pressed linen tablecloth she’d tossed on the table earlier. Gleaming flatware sat upon trifolded russet napkins. “I always try to make it an occasion. Probably silly, but it’s my way of holding on to a family tradition.”
“I think it’s nice,” he said, leaning around the table and pulling out her chair.
“Oh,” she said, taken aback at the gentlemanly and somewhat date-like nicety. “Thank you, Clay.”
“You’re welcome. Hey, I know how to treat a lady,” he said, giving her a grin that made her libido wriggle in delight.
Stop it.
“Um, prayer?” she inquired after picking up her fork.
He arched an eyebrow and shot her another grin. “Are we going to need it for some reason?”
More loaded words. She could be in deep trouble. Or totally imagining the innuendo. Cheerful teasing seemed to be Clay’s nature. He did this with everyone—the grocery clerk, the lady at the lumberyard, all his female clients. “Nope. Dig in, I guess.”
Clay did as suggested. “Oh man, this is even better than my nana’s meat loaf. Don’t tell her, though.”
“Now I can blackmail you. I will so tell your nana if I don’t get everything I want,” Daphne said, stabbing her empty fork toward him. See? She could tease. Then she realized what her words sounded like. “I mean on the house. What I want on the house.”
“Oh, so you set this up so you could get dirt on me? You’re a devious woman. Exactly the kind I like.” His eyes danced, and his dimples made an appearance.
Holy Hell. Dimples.
Daphne decided flirting was too dangerous, so she took another sip of wine and shuffled the peas around on her plate. “So tell me about the work you’re doing downtown. I think I heard y’all were doing loft apartments?”
He took a sip of his wine. “All we’ve done so far is gut the old Blanco Biscuit company building. We got the bid just over a month ago, but it’s a big project, so we needed some extra help. We’re hiring right now. It will be fairly modern but have some rustic elements, too. Think we’ll have five full-floor loft apartments and ten floors with duplex style. The guy who bought it is going to even hire a doorman.”
“A doorman? In Shreveport?”
“Well, more like a security guard but, yeah, total uptown.” He shoveled in a few more mouthfuls of peas and chewed thoughtfully. “It would be great for a woman like you—career-focused and single. They’ll be upscale and safe, so you might want to check into it.”
He thought of her as a single career gal? Something about that idea struck a chord in her. Moving off the farm and into a more manageable patio home had felt like conceding to her age and lack of a man in her life, as if she were admitting that the house she’d lived in for twenty-three years was too much for her to take care of alone. Daphne had consoled herself with the fact she was being practical and giving herself that blank slate for a new life. Clay made her sound . . . smart, successful, and not so on the shelf. Like the heroine of her own life, rather than a stuffy children’s author who hadn’t gotten laid in over two years. “I’ve already put money down on a place, but I think that sounds like a great project. Always good to bring new life to downtown.”
“Yeah.” He swiped the last bite of corn bread into the remaining juice left by the peas and popped it into his mouth. “That was incredible. You’re a terrific cook.”
Daphne looked at her own plate. She’d barely touched anything despite professing she’d been starving. Her stomach felt too jittery. She pulled a piece of corn bread free and popped it into her mouth. The buttery goodness wasn’t what she wanted.
Clay pushed back his chair and went into the kitchen.