Page 9 of Reluctantly Married

“Ah, I see.” She brushed a blonde strand of hair from her face. “How about this: when I was seven, I decided I was going to start up my own cleaning business. I typed up my rates on a piece of paper and went around the neighborhood selling my services.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “What kinds of services?”

“Dusting was a dollar, vacuuming was three dollars, and flushing the toilet was five cents.”

He held in a laugh. “Wow. Five cents for a flush, huh? Did anyone take you up on it?”

“Old Mrs. Fielding asked me in, and she bought all three services. Then she gave me cookies and milk, and a grocery bag full of canned vegetables to take home, along with a generous tip.” Megan’s smile faded. “Mom was furious when she got home from work. Said three neighbors called her and asked if we were okay. She was mortified that I’d embarrassed her like that.”

“Aw, you were just being a kid. I think it was quite entrepreneurial of you.”

She stared off into the distance, a slight frown on her face. He was about to ask her more about it, but the waitress returned with their drinks. “Here you go.” She set the juice box in front of Megan and grinned. “Your chocolate milk, Mr. Warner.” She practically glowed as she set his glass down. “The food will be ready shortly.”

“Thank you.” Megan called after the waitress, then shifted in her seat to look at Adam. “You have family nearby?”

“Yes. My father lives in Iowa.”

“My cousin lives in Iowa. Where’s your dad at?” She picked up her juice box and pulled the straw off the back.

He waved his hand, fully aware that the camera was rolling. “A small enough town I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it, and he inwardly sighed with relief. That was a conversation he didn’t want to have in front of the cameras. In fact, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to have it at all. His father was the last thing he wanted to discuss.

4

Their meals arrived, and Meganmarveled as Adam fumbled with his silverware. Why was he so nervous? She contemplated the possibility, as she had over the past couple of days, that he might have secret feelings for her.

Of course, the idea of Adam quietly pining away for her was flattering. Any girl would think so. Being wanted by a man was a special kind of thrill. But Adam? With his broad shoulders and gorgeous eyes, it was like she was back in high school and the captain of the football team had asked her to prom.

Adam pointed to her plate. “How’s your spaghetti?”

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” She twirled a long piece around her fork. “I don’t know what they did, but this is the best sauce I’ve ever tasted. And I think this pasta is freshly made.”

“I agree. This macaroni is delicious. Kids eat like kings here.”

The way he was looking at her—intently, with one eyebrow slightly raised—made her insides tingle. She could have sworn he’d grown more handsome in the last few minutes.

His gaze grew intense, and she squirmed. “Your turn to tell me something I don’t know.”

“When I bought my Mustang, it was a heap of junk. Got it for a song. I’ve spent the last four years restoring it.”

“I knew you were good with cars, but I had no idea you could restore them. Your car is beautiful.”

“Thanks. The paint job wasn’t cheap, but it was worth it.”

Megan popped a meatball into her mouth, savoring the flavor. After she swallowed, she said, “So, you restore cars and save baby animals. What else don’t I know about you?”

He thought for a moment. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

Megan laughed. “Really?”

“Horrible. As in, my homecoming date dumped me for Fred Dunn. In the middle of the dance. I guess she got tired of me embarrassing her.”

“Aw, that’s sad.” She tried not to giggle, but failed.

“And I can’t carry a tune. Don’t make me sing, it’s not pretty.” He grinned, then took a swig of his chocolate milk.

“I guess if we’re confessing things we stink at, I’ll admit I can’t draw. Not even stick figures. In fact, it’s not a good idea to get me near paint, either. Or pottery. I, uh, got kicked out of seventh grade art class.”

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