Page 23 of Finally Mine
“That’s great. Thanks,” she said.
Aldo popped the bag into the back seat of his pickup. “Do you have enough time for a picnic at the lake?”
Jobless, homeless, prospectless she had all the time in the world.
“I do if you do,” she said.
“You just made my day.” He skirted the truck and opened the passenger door for her.
A five-minute drive later, Aldo pulled into the recreational area parking lot at the lake. He led the way down to the lakefront and, ignoring the picnic tables, steered her toward a small copse of trees. He unfurled the lightweight blanket under his arm and gestured for her to sit.
Gloria was glad she hadn’t gone for a skirt or sundress. The red capris—another gift from her mother, whose horror at her pathetic wardrobe was justified—were just right for picnicking. Aldo plopped down next to her. Energy in every movement.
She liked being around him, liked the level of enthusiasm he had for everything. It was like being close to that spring sun. Energizing.
He unpacked the bag. A huge salad with grilled chicken for Aldo “My Body is a Temple” Moretta. Two sandwiches, a cup of split pea soup, and a small Caesar salad for Gloria to have her way with. The Danishes, a cherry and a cheese, looked delectable.
He unscrewed the lid of a water bottle and handed it to her. “Did I do okay?”
There was no planet on which Aldo would need encouragement. But today, nerves shimmered over his sexy surface.
“You did great,” she told him. Gloria shoved aside the need to wait for permission and helped herself to half of a chicken salad sandwich and the soup.
They settled into a companionable silence, enjoying the food, the sun, the glitter of the water in front of them.
“Did you go to the Plunge?” Aldo asked her, referring to Benevolence’s annual fundraiser. The Not So Polar Plunge happened in April every year because the water was still damn cold by that time.
She shook her head and covered her mouth, suddenly not sure how to eat around other human beings. Most of her meals the last few years had been alone. “No, I didn’t.”
“Heard Luke almost got into it with Linc Reed,” He said conversationally.
“Do they still have that rivalry thing going?” Gloria asked, taking a sip of water. She remembered vaguely the year that Luke and his then-girlfriend, Karen, had broken up. It had been the talk of the halls at Benevolence High. Linc had moved in quickly, and Luke had taken exception.
They talked in fits and spurts about Aldo’s job, the college time he’d squeezed in between deployments, about Benevolence in general. He was a charming gossip, never salacious, only entertaining. Gloria couldn’t help but admire how utterly confident, how comfortable, he was.
Aldo finished his half-gallon of vegetables and leaned back on the heels of his hands, his legs crossed at the ankles. The picture of relaxation.
“I had an ulterior motive for asking you here,” he confessed.
Gloria stopped mid-chew on the respectable, gluten-less baked good. “You did?”
Did he want her to water his plants while he deployed?
For fuck’s sake. Could she maybe attempt to stop being a doormat in her own mind? Maybe the man wanted to make out with her. Damn it. She should have shaved her legs.
He was watching her, eyes squinting in the sun. She liked the crinkles by his eyes.
“I’m leaving in a week,” he began.
Gloria felt her face fall. It was stupid to be attached to him. They’d spent a handful of hours together. They weren’t even friends. But that didn’t change the fact that she was bitterly disappointed that he was leaving.
“Do you need someone to water your plants?” she offered lamely.
“I don’t—Actually that would be really great. If you wouldn’t mind.”
Great. Something to add to her resume. Plant babysitter. Awesome. Oh, God. What if she killed all his plants?
“Sure.” There was more enthusiasm in summer school attendees than she put in that one word.
