Page 23 of Flashback
“Killjoy,” he muttered before raising his voice and saying, “Sure, sounds good.”
“I heard that.” She smiled and pulled open the fridge. “Grab a plate out of the cupboard, and I’ll dish you a piece of cherry and pack the apple for you to take home.”
“Are you having some?” He pulled open the cupboard she’d gotten a plate from earlier and picked up two plates. “I’d enjoy it so much more if you joined me. I hate eating alone.”
If he was attempting to make his stay at her house last longer, he wasn’t going to admit it on the threat of death. And if they hadn’t just pigged out on enough barbecue to keep them full for a month, he’d suggest ordering pizza for dinner to push his departure back more.
“Sure. I’ll have a small slice. You want ice cream with it?”
“Holy shit. You really do have to marry me,” he joked. Except the words and the jest behind them seemed to fall flat.
She chuckled awkwardly. “Of course. I’ve got your promise tags, after all.”
Her gaze wouldn’t meet his, and he racked his brain to come up with something that would cut through the tension suddenly choking them both. He cleared his throat. “Ice cream would be good.”
“Okay.”
For the next few minutes, they remained quiet, Mazey putting two plates of pie and ice cream together while he leaned against the counter and watched.
She moved with an efficiency he’d noticed at work, and now in her kitchen, he was reminded of it. He liked it. The way her body flowed with purpose.
Would she be like that in bed?
Would she bring that same level of focus to passion?
Would he find out?
“Here.” She shoved a plate toward him, the ice cream toppling from the top of the pie with the jerky movement. “Eat it before it melts.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, she seemed rattled. He’d seen her covered in blood, holding a gash together while a mother screamed right in her face about not letting her child die, and Mazey hadn’t flinched. And with only a few words, he’d managed to do more than make her flinch.
He’d made her uncomfortable.
He hated it.
He needed to get them back to the easy, relaxed way they’d been with each other before he’d once again thrown marriage out there.
He couldn’t work out why he kept doing that. It clearly made her nervous, and it wasn’t like they’d even kissed, or he’d suggested dating for fuck’s sake.
Whatever the hell was going on between them, Rylan needed to get a handle on it. The last thing he wanted to do was put up walls between them. She had enough of her own already.
They’d known each other for two weeks. Three if he counted their “run in” meeting on the street. He shouldn’t be feeling what he was for this woman yet. He’d rushed into things with Renee—not that they’d had a choice—but that relationship was the perfect example of what not to do.
Diving too deep too fast had led to a crash and burn he was not inclined to repeat. And he didn’t have a clue what kind of baggage Mazey carried. There was no way a woman got to her early thirties without getting some scars along the way, and it was clear to him she had more than her share.
Silence stretched, the air thick with tension, and Rylan wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. To make all the anxiety and awkwardness go away. In the end, it was Mazey who pulled them back.
“Alyssa is organizing a night out next week.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen the nightlife here in Sunnyville yet, and she needs a night out, apparently. I think she’s asking everyone who isn’t on shift next Saturday night.”
“Sounds great.” He put down his empty plate. “I’m not much of a drinker, so I can be your designated driver.”
“Really? You don’t want to let loose for a night and get trashed? Alyssa’s words, not mine.” She smiled.
“I’m a little old for that.”
