Page 107 of I'm Your Guy
“Thank you for cooking. This is great.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I stammer. “Really the least I could do.”
He gives me a slight frown, like maybe I’ve said something wrong. Or not, though. Tommaso has a serious face, which I now find sexy. Along with every single other thing about him.
The problem is that I like him too much, and we’re running out of time together. “Have you given any thought to, uh, your mother’s arrival?” I ask. “Of course, I’ll leave the guestroom in pristine condition.”
He frowns again and gives his head a quick shake. “Place looks great already. I’m not worried.”
“Yeah, but…” I clear my throat. The truth is that I’m waiting for him to say that he wants to introduce me to his mother. But we haven’t discussed it yet. “My plan is to ask Rigo and Buck if I can spend a few nights with them over the holidays. So I’m out of your hair.”
His frown deepens. “You’re never in my hair. Except in all the fun ways.”
“Okay, but…” I’ve run out of ways to skirt this topic. “Your mom is going to be here in just a few days. And you’ve been planning this family holiday for months. Just the two of you.” And I clearly don’t fit into that plan.
He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. “Want some more wine? I’m going to grab the bottle.”
“Sure,” I say slowly.
He gives me a little smile, and then rises from the table. On his way into the kitchen, he actually drags his knuckles lightly over my cheekbone. It’s a very macho expression of affection, and so very Tommaso.
I admire his backside as he heads for the kitchen.
I’m so confused. I don’t know what happens next between us. I can’t really picture him introducing me to his mom as his boyfriend. Not that I wouldn’t like to meet her.
He doesn’t want to discuss it, though. That much is clear. So for now, I’m just living in the moment.
And the moment is pretty damn great.
* * *
Tommaso’s deck furniture arrives the next morning while he’s at practice. I arrange it on the screened-in porch.
Come summer, this will be a great spot to hang out. The porch faces south, so there’ll be morning light. I could install a hook in the corner for a hanging planter.
A guy could sit out here with his coffee in the morning and watch the sun rise. Or, in the evening, sit with a beer and watch the fireflies.
I realize that I’m picturing myself in this tableau, and it’s incredibly presumptuous. Like, wildly presumptuous.
I change the scene in my mind. It’s Christmas Eve, and there’s a small fire pit on the porch. Ooh! That’s a great idea. I know they make smaller models that are safe for screened-in spaces.
And now I know what to get Tommaso as a Christmas gift.
After the furniture is arranged and the packing material vanquished into the Red Rock dumpster, I get into my car and head for the nearest Home Warehouse.
You know you’re falling for somebody when you’re willing to go into a big box store for them. I hate fluorescent lighting, and giant corporations. But if I can’t relaunch my design business, I’ll probably end up donning an orange apron and working someplace like this.
In the garden center, I scope out the fire pits. Most of them are wrong for Tommaso’s space, but there’s one that works. It’s pricey, and I’ll also need a flame-proof mat for underneath it.
But Tommaso is worth it. I’ll pick up some marshmallows and graham crackers on the way home, too, so we can make s’mores.
This all seems like a great idea until I get to the checkout counter. And then I get a shock.
It’s Macklin. My ex. The man who ruined everything. “What are you doing here?” I yelp. “You said you went to Phoenix!”
“I did.” He points a hand-held barcode scanner at my purchases. “Then I came back and got a job.”
“You still owe me rent money,” I hiss. “I got evicted after you left!”
