Page 8 of His North Star
“Whatever.”
“Don’t change because of me. Anyway, I’m sure she would like to spend time with you alone.” I winked.
“Yeah, sure.” He slowly nodded.
Okay, something was seriously up with him. He’d acted strange when talking about Lys lately. I didn’t want to pry. I really didn’t, but knowing him as well as I did, something was off. I touched his elbow, moving my head so I could meet his eyes. “Is everything okay with you two?”
His eyes darted away from mine. “Yeah?”
Why had he said it like a question? “Look, you know I don’t like to get into your girl problems, but I’m here if you need to talk.”
“She keeps talking about marriage,” he blurted.
I blinked. “And?”
He moved to the closest table, away from me, and leaned against the edge. “I can’t.” His voice cracked.
Any day now, I expected a ring on her finger. I thought Ty hadn’t proposed out of sensitivity to my breakup with Blake. I moved next to him, leaning against his shoulder. “Because of your parents?” I asked tenderly.
Had he changed cologne? His usual scent of bergamot and sea mist was absent. Instead, a musky citrus wafted up my nose.Get a grip.We’re talking about Ty’s problems right now, not how he smells.
He nodded as he looked at the floor. “Them. Y—” He shook his head, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Nope, I’m not discussing my relationship with you.”
It was official. He’d left crazy town and entered lost-his-mind-ville. Was he going to sayyou? Why wouldImake it so he couldn’t commit? Or be ready for marriage? Was he worried Lys would want us to stop hanging out?
“I was only trying to help,” I said.
“I appreciate that. My client will be waiting. I should go. See you later.”
“Bye.” I watched his back as he left the room, confused as to what exactly was going on with him and his girlfriend, and what I could do—if anything—about it.
CHAPTER 3
Armed with three telescopes and my laptop bag, I crossed the short parking lot to the entrance of the small community center. I stared at the glass door, my full arms, and back to the door.Lovely.Lifting my pinky to the handle, I tried to pry open the door. Muted laughter rang out from inside the building. I glanced up and an older gentleman, Phillip, whom I’d dubbedthe silver fox,approached.
Oh, thank goodness. My finger about broke. I let go of the door handle and shook out the cramp.
Phillip was a widower and quite handsome at sixty-eight years old. All the ladies, including a few ninety-year-old cougars, flirted with him. If I were twenty years older, I’d be first in line. His tall frame and semi-muscular shape were hard to ignore.
“Hey, Phillip!” I exclaimed as I took a step away from the entrance.
He held the door open. “Ah, Maren, my dear. Good to see you.”
I shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks for getting that for me.”
The stubble from his short beard scratched against my cheek as he planted a kiss on it. “Happy to help.”
His sincerity warmed my insides. Not to mention his energetic personality was so much like Grandpa’s. No wonder I’d rather spend time with him than go on another date.
“Where would you like me to set up?” I asked. The center only had one large room with a giant bulletin board at the front.
“Over here.” He gestured to the front of the room as I had expected.
“I brought my computer. Can we get the projector set up and the screen pulled down?”
He patted my shoulder. “Sure thing. Anything else you’ll need?” His voice was deep and warm.
“Uh, someone else to talk?” I wished with a hopeful smile.
