Page 35 of Healing Hearts
“This one is an older, run-down home, but in the good part of town,” I say. “You bought me flowers?”
“Saw them, thought of you. Call it an impulse purchase.” He glances at me over his shoulder while he unpacks groceries.
But there’s something in the way he’s looking at me that makes me think he knows exactly what day today is, and he’s actuallyhome right at dinner. This week, he’s been dragging his ass in around midnight.
“I bought all the ingredients for that chicken mess we made during our snowed in cooking adventures,” he says, holding up the chicken breasts. “If you’re doing that, I’ll make this.”
“Do you need me to print the recipe?”
“Did it at work before I left,” he says, getting out dishes, measuring cups, and a cutting board.
I’m tempted to tell him that he doesn’t have to treat me like a born-again virgin, which I already said. But having him take care of me a littleisa nice treat. The rhythm of him in my kitchen is soothing in an odd and unexpected way. It shouldn’t be a surprise. One of the reasons I knew having him live here wouldn’t be terrible was based on our snowed-in days together, but how natural all of this is still trips me up.
Maybe we both know exactly what’s going to happen tonight, but he doesn’t seem in a rush, and god knows I am really fucking nervous about going through with this, even though it was my idea, even though it’s genuinely what I want.
I try to go back to price matching the house with other things that have sold in the last few months, either through my company or other realtors, but I can’t focus.
Finally, I give up, and I pack everything away. Then I go over and assess where Trent is at with the recipe.
“Do you want some help?” I ask.
“There’s some wine in the fridge,” he says. “Bought it yesterday and stashed it in a drawer, if you want to get it out.”
When I stand up to go to the fridge, Trent follows me with his gaze. “Nice dress,” he says, his voice husky.
“Thanks,” I say, nerves zinging down my spine. It’s not the black dress from my date with Michael, which he said made me look fuckable, but it’s definitely straddling the line between mynormal work attire and something meant to entice. Open back, short hemline, but it’s not overly tight.
In the fridge is the exact pinot grigio we had when we were snowed in, and I stare at it for a beat before unscrewing the top and pouring us both a glass. Here I thought he was so consumed by figuring out his own business that he was completely unaware of the calendar, but it turns out I was the one who got it all wrong.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” I say, keeping my voice quiet when I pass him the glass.
“Do what?” he asks, holding my gaze over the rim of the glass.
“Wine and dine me.”
“You mean before I sixty-nine you?”
“Trent!”
“I love when you say my name like that, as though you’re both amused and disgusted by what I’ve said.”
“Usually more amused,” I admit.
“I know.” He gives me a small grin. “That’s why I like it.” He casts his hand over the food he’s been preparing. “And maybe none of this is for you. MaybeIlike being wined and dined before someone sixty-ninesme.”
I can’t help a laugh. “You’re wining and dining yourself, then?”
“You’re stillherein the house, so not quite. And I sure as hell am not sixty-nining myself.”
A beat sits between us, both of us grinning, and I become acutely aware of our flirting and our comfort with each other.
“Tonight and tomorrow are transactions, though, and I’m not sure how I feel about you turning it into something else.”
“You wanted me to come home, throw you on the kitchen table, and fuck your brains out? Wake up tomorrow morning and say, ‘all right, babe, get that pussy out.’ That’s what you wanted?”
“I wouldn’t have put it like that.”
“AndIdon’t think you would have liked that,” he says. “Beyond all this, you’re my friend, Em. You’re one of my best fucking friends, and there’s no way in hell I’m treating you like you’re disposable, like you don’t matter. Maybe this is atransaction, but I think we’d be doing it wrong if it didn’t still feel important in some way.”
