True-Blue Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,53
with me. I didn’t want that.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.”
“Speaking of who knows what, did you say anything to Fiona?”
“She picked up on our behavior, so I told her pretty much what you told Rafe, that we had a hot time in the attic and your sweat and pheromones drive me crazy.”
“My faro-whatzit?”
“Pheromones. Mammals and insects secrete them.”
“To what purpose?”
“Choosing a mate, although humans usually aren’t aware of—”
“Choosing a mate? Are you kidding?”
“No, but I wouldn’t take it literally. I think it just means we’re sexually compatible.”
“That’s a fact.” What a long damn table. He ate faster.
“In any case, it looks like tomorrow won’t work out. Tuesday I’m back at the salon, but I—”
“Unless you want me to come by after you get back from Fiona’s.” He held his breath. He might be pushing it with that suggestion, especially after the mating discussion.
“Just for a couple of hours? Or to spend the night?”
“That’s your call.”
“I can’t imagine kicking you out of my bed once you’re in it.”
He sighed with relief. “Good. Text me when you’re leaving Fiona’s and I’ll meet you here.”
“Then it’s official. Two nights in a row qualifies as sleeping together.”
“Who says?”
“I do. You hear about one-night stands, but nobody talks about two-night stands.”
“Because that would sound ridiculous.” He should be happy with a second night and let it go at that. He couldn’t. “Is tomorrow night a spontaneous, what-the-hell thing or are we setting a pattern?”
“A pattern of you spending the night on most nights?”
“Right.”
“Clearly I like having sex with you.”
“Same here.” His chest tightened. Would it be thumbs up or thumbs down?
“And having you run into town every night to stay a few hours and leave sounds… disrespectful to you.”
Better than nothing. “I don’t see it that way. If you’d rather—”
“I’d rather have you stay the night. That takes it above the level of a booty call.”
He couldn’t help smiling. “Eva, where you’re concerned, I have no pride. Put me on speed dial and let me know you want me. I’ll be there.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not just sex with us. You’re not scratching an itch. You want me. Maybe it’s pheromones and maybe it’s more than that, but like I said, when we make that connection, you’re all in. I’ll take that feeling whenever I can get it.”
“Hm.”
If they weren’t separated by ten feet of table, he’d have a better chance of gauging her reaction to that speech. He sure as hell didn’t want her to put him up every night because it was the considerate option.
She took a sip from her fancy glass of cider and put it down. “I’ll tell you one thing about talking across the length of this table.”
“What’s that?”
“It makes the discussion feel weighty.”
He doubted it was the table’s fault, but if she wanted to blame a piece of furniture, he didn’t care. The subject was weighty. She believed she was destined to follow in her Aunt Sally’s footsteps. Inviting a man for nightly sleepovers might not fit with that program.
He’d retreat for now. “Okay, tell you what. Forget I asked. We’ll take this one day—or rather one night—at a time.”
She smiled with relief. “Works for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The following night at six-thirty, Eva grabbed a diagonal parking space in front of Fiona’s shop. She’d spent her morning sorting through some of the boxes Nick had brought down.
She’d also contacted Ellie Mae and confirmed a three-thirty appointment for tomorrow. By afternoon she’d been dragging, so she’d taken a long nap.
Nick hadn’t been able to indulge in that luxury, poor guy. As she’d sent him home this morning after they’d cooked breakfast together, she’d suggested taking a raincheck on tonight’s plan. Predictably, he’d scoffed at the idea.
He’d texted her a few minutes ago while she was driving over here to confirm that she’d contact him when she was leaving Fiona’s. He was eager. God help her, so was she.
After shutting off the engine, she picked up her phone and texted him that she planned to leave at nine. He sent her a happy face. She sent him a kiss. Then she silenced her phone because she was acting like a besotted teenager.
The closed sign hung in the window of Fiona’s shop but she always left the front door unlocked on the nights Beth and Eva came over. Shifting a container of homemade brownies to her left hand, Eva opened it and walked in, causing the bell above it to jangle.
Laughter and lamplight spilled down the stairway leading up to Fiona’s apartment. Beth must