“This is a first for me.”
“Only time will tell, but I’m not sure the reaction he’s getting out of you is all bad. Some of those irrational feelings can be good . . .”
I started walking, throwing up a hand to stop him. “I swear, if you start telling me about the mating habits of animals and all the fighting that goes on there, I will disown you.”
He caught up to me easily, taking my upraised hand and tucking it through his arm. His suit jacket was cold against my palm, a temperature which I appreciated at the moment.
“Okay, I won’t tease you. It’s okay to be confused by him. Be patient. It will settle and, pretty soon, you’ll know where the reality lies,” he soothed as we started climbing the stairs. “For what it’s worth, I hope you give him a run for his money. Every man could use that now and again.”
“Dad!” I squeezed his arm. “That’s terrible advice. He’s not interested in spending time with me, you know.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Plus, I am not going to play games with Ford Whittaker or any other man. What would your students and colleagues say?”
“They’d say that we can pretend to be evolved, but at our core we’re still a little bit caveman.”
I laughed out loud, my dimples sinking into my cheeks as we passed through the doorway to the balcony seats where Mom was waiting. She was standing facing us, talking to a man whose back was turned our direction. My eyes darted across the room to see that Ford’s seat was empty, and I knew, I knew, that somehow Mom had gotten him over here, and he’d be sitting in our spare seat. I cursed that extra seat, even as I promised myself to not let this throw me for a loop. Especially after the conversation I’d just had with Dad.
My amusement died as heat crawled up my spine. Ford, hearing us, turned around with that same charming smile he always wore.
“Conrad,” he greeted my father kindly with an outstretched hand. “Sylvia was telling me about her trip to Boston and we were exchanging restaurant recommendations.”
Dad took his hand and shook it firmly. “I hope it was all seafood, because I hate the stuff and encourage her to get her fill when she’s back east.”
Ford chuckled, and his eyes moved to me. As usual, they quickly took me in from my slipping smile to my silver heels. He zoned in and that feeling tornado launched in my chest as he gave a short nod.
“Hailey.”
I returned the greeting exactly. “Ford.”
“I’ve invited Ford to watch the second half with us,” Mom said happily. “He was alone tonight, and we have the extra seat.”
I was surprised that he would come to the opera alone. I imagined him as always having people around him. I glanced at Dad as he slipped into his seat, and his expression reminded me that he didn’t see Ford as dangerous or me as a monster, which helped me loosen my stiff spine as I sat next to my mom. Of course, this left Ford on my right-hand side with only me to talk to unless he leaned around me. I reached up to pull off my wrap, suddenly much too warm for it, and he unexpectedly helped me. His fingertips lightly brushed my bare shoulder as he slid it off and into my lap in a fluid motion.
“Thank you.” I managed over a sea of sensations.
“I didn’t know you are an opera fan,” he said conversationally.
His tone was relaxed and curious, and I was a little jealous of his ease as I sat facing forward, not allowing my eyes to drift his way.
I could say the same about you, I thought, but I replied with, “I love it.”
“I come any chance I get. An occasional night off from work and parenting goes a long way.”
That was probably the most personal thing he’d ever told me about himself. Too bad I wouldn’t be responding in kind, even if I wanted to know even more about how his thoughts worked and who he was. I was not here to open any doors between us. Keeping it light, keeping it professional . . . that was my goal.
“Are you familiar with Carmen, then?” I glanced toward the orchestra pit where the musicians were taking their seats.
“It’s the first opera I saw. After that, I was addicted.”
He kept his voice low, speaking under the noise of the crowd even though I was facing partially away. Turning had been a mistake, because it meant that his voice came straight to my ear, creating this unwanted feeling that we were sharing a secret. I closed my eyes, shoving down the wave of . . . something . . . and took a breath.
“More deep breathing, huh?” he teased.
I ignored him and kept my eyes focused on the stage. “Does your family enjoy opera?” I asked. “Did you go with your wife before she passed?”
I couldn’t believe I’d dared to bring her up. So much for avoiding the personal stuff. But it was a desperate attempt to keep me from feeling things. Things with a capital T. Things that might not be real. I folded my hands in my lap and squeezed my fingers together.