Page 14 of Sugar Pie
A house full of love had always been a daydream. I put my other leg up and curled my hand on the back of the sofa. “That sounds nicer than my parents. They’re married, but I don’t think they’ve spoken to each other privately in years.”
He relaxed but kept his hands on his lap. “That had to be hard to be near.”
I leaned on my hand. “We all have our baggage. That’s life, y’know.” I scooted closer and met his gaze. “So tell me something you like to do for fun that has nothing to do with work.”
He pressed his lips together as if I’d asked him to solve world hunger. “Work on my golf game, I guess.”
I laughed and nodded—that was fair enough. In Florida, where I grew up, golf was a common hobby. “My dad would like that answer.”
“I’ll get a new hobby if it bothers you.” He leaned on his hand too. “What about you?”
“I don’t want to change my hobbies.”
“Of course.” He laughed. “Not what I meant.”
I had never done much. I kept my voice low. “I like baking.”
He laughed and patted his belly. “I love eating. You’re the perfect roommate.”
I joined his glee for a second but then winked. “I didn’t say I’d share.”
He opened his mouth wide, as though I’d offended his honor. “Now, you’re being mean.”
Maybe I was. I shrugged and vowed to make him something sweet in the future. “Fair enough, but we have no baking tools in this kitchen, so don’t expect anything anytime soon.”
“I won’t.” He held his hand up like he was swearing on a bible.
Neither one of us moved for a second. He then pointed to the kitchen and said, “You want to finish the beer?”
I jumped up. “Sure.”
We both walked to the kitchen and each grabbed a beer. Then we walked back to our seats. “So what kind of woman are you usually attracted to?” I asked.
He waited till I was sitting. “Skinny blond models.”
I almost spit out the beer but then felt my face grow red. I would never qualify as skinny—I was all curves. “Ah, okay.”
He cringed and held his beer. “I’m joking. It wasn’t my best joke, but we said we’d be friends, and I hope you trust me enough to go to sleep alone soon.”
My heart danced a little differently. I wanted him to want me. It hit me with force, and I remembered the small fantasy that had played when I had tried to meditate. I felt my cheeks redden again and quickly looked away from him, hoping he wouldn’t know what it meant if he noticed. I changed the subject to safer ground. “What do you have lined up for tomorrow?”
He sipped his beer and nodded. “A few small jobs. I could really use some help building my client list.”
Once again, his drive struck me. I needed to have that if I was to find out how to live. I sipped my beer. “You’re different than other men, y’know.”
His gaze narrowed. “How?”
Heat rushed through me—not that it mattered, as the sparks were useless. I stared at my beer. “I’m so used to just being told what will happen that I’m not sure how to respond to polite and respectable.”
His lips curled higher. “My mother would be very proud of me at this moment.”
I finished my beer and stared at him. I’d always wanted to be part of a family that actually supported me, but I thought that was a fantasy. I relaxed and stretched. “You bring her up a lot.”
He drained his beer. “Me talking about her makes you feel more comfortable. I want you to feel safe so you can rest.”
I stood then took my empty bottle to the kitchen. He did the same. My heart thundered in my chest. “One more thing.”
He stared down at me. My lips tingled as if he would kiss me, but he didn’t. “Yeah?”
