Page 24 of Back in the Saddle

I went to my bedroom and switched out my black jeans for black joggers that had a satiny grosgrain ribbon pinstripe down the side. They were perfect. Warm. Comfy. Cute. And expandable.

I hit the kitchen when Eric was scooping out ice cream.

“Want another cocktail? Or I can make coffee or chai,” I offered.

“Coffee,” he picked.

I went to my big bowl of Nespresso pods. “Intenso, odacio or stormio? Or are you feeling festive and want pumpkin spice or rich chocolate?”

“Intenso,” he ordered.

Seriously, this dude was the man of my dreams.

I started the machine warming and reached for mugs.

This was part of what I did for a living, so when Eric came to the sink in order to lean his hips against it and watch me, I wasn’t a huge fan of how unnerved he made me.

I should note, I wasn’t surprised.

But I wasn’t a fan.

He was offering friendship.

I had good friends. However, I curated them carefully, so they were few.

That said, anyone could use a new friend.

“I got two questions, but you didn’t ask any,” he said.

I looked to him. “Sorry?”

“At dinner. I asked two personal questions. You didn’t ask any.”

“Just now I asked about Rose and Jack and the door.”

“Does that give you insight into the man I am?”

“Yes.”

And it wasn’t a lie.

His lips tipped up before he said, “So you get one more.”

I felt my brows dip down. “This feels like a test.”

“It isn’t. We’re getting to know each other.”

We sure were.

And for the first time since he showed, I wondered why.

“You didn’t answer me fully,” he pointed out he saw right through my earlier answers. “If I’m not down with what you ask, I’ll return the favor.”

This was starting to feel like a game.

He wanted to play?

I wanted to know more about him.

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