Page 18 of Grit
“So I’m not supposed to say you have great legs?” he asked quietly. “Because you do. And only a blind man wouldn’t notice.”
“You’re not supposed to say that stuff because we’re not… together, okay?” Melissa kept a smile plastered on her face as customers walked by. “We’re friends.”
“We’re friends who kiss each other,” he said. “So I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to notice your legs.”
“Kissed. One time. Why do you keep bringing that up?”
“Because it was a really good kiss and you ran away.” He stepped close enough that she could feel his body heat. Smell the scent of his skin and his aftershave. “I think it counts as more than one when I still remember what your mouth tastes like.”
Her face had to be on fire. “Please stop bringing it up.”
“I will when you tell me you don’t want me.” Cary’s voice dropped. “Tell me you don’t want me—that you have no interest in me beyond friendship—and you won’t hear another word about it. And remember, I know you well enough that I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Why couldn’t she say the words? Why couldn’t she just lie?
Abby returned with two coffees in hand. “Sorry it took so long! Kathy had a big line.”
“No problem!” Melissa was absurdly glad her daughter was back. “Did she make us lattes?”
“Yeah. That’s the other reason it took so long. She said thanks for the tomatoes.”
Melissa sipped her coffee even though it was scalding. “Yum. Thanks, baby.”
“You’re welcome.”
Cary eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup with a look that told Melissa she’d only delayed the conversation, not stopped it. Not for a minute did she think he’d forget about cornering her.
But at least she’d stalled him. Maybe by the time he brought it up again she’d have a convincing lie.
Because it would be a lie. There was no way she could say with honesty that she wasn’t interested in Cary. She was insanely attracted to him. No other man in six years had even tempted her. But acting on that attraction? Way too complicated. Maybe Cary didn’t see it, but Melissa wasn’t blinded by her hormones.
She and Cary had too much history. Too many obstacles. He would always be Calvin’s friend, and she’d always be Calvin’s widow. Seeing anything beyond that opened her heart to too much pain.
Chapter Four
Melissa didn’t callhim before the council meeting that night—which didn’t surprise him—but she did show up. She even sat next to him with the safe barrier of her purse resting between them.
“Hey.” She grabbed a notebook and pen from her bag. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nope. Bud’s still reading the minutes of the last meeting.” He glanced at the purse. It was a formidable barrier filled with notebooks, planners, pens—probably some baling twine, possibly a horseshoe—along with various and sundry other mysteries. He poked at the strap. “Do you have any snacks in there?”
“You didn’t eat dinner?”
“I was at the packing house until I drove over here.”
She raised an eyebrow. “The packing house with all the… fruit? The boxes and boxes of fruit?”
“Do you know how much fruit I eat on a daily basis?” Cary peeked in her purse again. “I bet you have a Snickers or something.”
Melissa opened her purse and pulled out a small bag of almonds and a granola bar. “Take your pick.”
He grabbed both and smiled when she rolled her eyes. “It is forever the purse of mysteries.”
“It’s the purse of the working mother.”
“You were an A student, weren’t you?”
She clicked her pen and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Every single year.”
