pain, Miranda?” It’s a question, but I have the weirdest feeling it’s not the flinch that made him ask it. Without knowing why, I suspect he just knows things. And when he takes my hand in both of his and cradles it with his fingertips against my wrist, I also know I’ll do anything he says.
“Yes, I am a bit…but it’s nothing. Just a twinge of arthritis, that’s all.” I try to smile again but it comes out as a nervous grimace. He’s so awesome up close that I feel star struck. “We get it early in my family.” I twitter on, making sure he knows I’m not quite a senior citizen yet, just the victim of unfortunate genetics. “The sun will do it good if I’m careful and don’t get burnt.”
A frown pleats his otherwise flawlessly smooth brow, and an expression of sympathy forms on his handsome face.
No! I don’t want pity. I already feel like forty kinds of fool for harboring the daft notion, even for a second, that you might fancy me.
“Yes, I believe it will.” A fascinating mix of emotions crosses his features. There’s understanding, something a bit like admiration, and an almost crafty but benign calculation. I’d swear he knows that sympathy is the very last thing I want from him.
A bit at a loss what to say, I look around and notice his books. And get a surprise. Patrick is reading romantic novels. Some of the books I loaned to Helen Johnson months ago. I’ve been meaning to ask for them back because they were mostly keepers I wouldn’t want to part with.
“Um…enjoying the books?”
“Yes, indeed.” His expression confounds me. Men don’t usually read romances and chick-lit, but he seems completely sincere. “I like stories of love. Especially against the odds.” He touches the cover of a particular favorite of mine, a heart-wrenching historical, and again his face displays a chiaroscuro of emotions. I could swear he really does understand the agony of the book’s hero and his tangle of love and loss.
“Er…good. Glad you like them. That’s one of my favorites too.”
“They’re your books?”
“Yes, I loaned them to Helen. She broke her ankle and she couldn’t get about, so I brought a bunch of them round to keep her occupied.”
“That was thoughtful of you.” His blue eyes narrow, as if assessing my motives. Then he beams at me, granting his approval.
“She’d do the same for me.” My voice comes out a bit prickly. Who is this guy to pass judgment on me? Helen probably wouldn’t have thought to bring me reading material. She certainly hasn’t bothered to return what I loaned her.
“Would you like them back now?” He starts to gather my little library, stacking them in a neat pile, handling them carefully. I can see that some of the spines are cracked, but my gut instinct tells me he didn’t do it.
“No, it’s okay. Please hang on to them as long as you like. I have lots of others too, when you’ve finished those. Just let me know.”
“I will.” Setting the books aside, he glances up at the sky, his blue eyes wide open, not squinting at the sun.
“The sun is very hot. Would you like me to rub some sun lotion on your back?”
Ooh, yes, you can rub whatever you want wherever you want, you gorgeous creature.
I don’t say that, of course. “Thanks, but I think I’m okay for the moment. I just put some on.” I barely have to pause. “Would you like me to do you instead?”
He beams. Ah, what must it be like to be so adorable and know you’re so adorable?
“Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m okay for the moment too.”
Disappointment must be writ large on my face. I’m so pathetic. I told myself I’d never do the ooh-I-fancy-you, do-you-fancy-me dance ever again.
“But maybe in a little while,” he adds, with that little eye-narrow again. He’s wise. He knows what’s going on. “Can I offer you something else in the meantime?”
I can’t help but laugh. The cheeky so-and-so. He has the grace to laugh too, as he starts rummaging
“Yes, I am a bit…but it’s nothing. Just a twinge of arthritis, that’s all.” I try to smile again but it comes out as a nervous grimace. He’s so awesome up close that I feel star struck. “We get it early in my family.” I twitter on, making sure he knows I’m not quite a senior citizen yet, just the victim of unfortunate genetics. “The sun will do it good if I’m careful and don’t get burnt.”
A frown pleats his otherwise flawlessly smooth brow, and an expression of sympathy forms on his handsome face.
No! I don’t want pity. I already feel like forty kinds of fool for harboring the daft notion, even for a second, that you might fancy me.
“Yes, I believe it will.” A fascinating mix of emotions crosses his features. There’s understanding, something a bit like admiration, and an almost crafty but benign calculation. I’d swear he knows that sympathy is the very last thing I want from him.
A bit at a loss what to say, I look around and notice his books. And get a surprise. Patrick is reading romantic novels. Some of the books I loaned to Helen Johnson months ago. I’ve been meaning to ask for them back because they were mostly keepers I wouldn’t want to part with.
“Um…enjoying the books?”
“Yes, indeed.” His expression confounds me. Men don’t usually read romances and chick-lit, but he seems completely sincere. “I like stories of love. Especially against the odds.” He touches the cover of a particular favorite of mine, a heart-wrenching historical, and again his face displays a chiaroscuro of emotions. I could swear he really does understand the agony of the book’s hero and his tangle of love and loss.
“Er…good. Glad you like them. That’s one of my favorites too.”
“They’re your books?”
“Yes, I loaned them to Helen. She broke her ankle and she couldn’t get about, so I brought a bunch of them round to keep her occupied.”
“That was thoughtful of you.” His blue eyes narrow, as if assessing my motives. Then he beams at me, granting his approval.
“She’d do the same for me.” My voice comes out a bit prickly. Who is this guy to pass judgment on me? Helen probably wouldn’t have thought to bring me reading material. She certainly hasn’t bothered to return what I loaned her.
“Would you like them back now?” He starts to gather my little library, stacking them in a neat pile, handling them carefully. I can see that some of the spines are cracked, but my gut instinct tells me he didn’t do it.
“No, it’s okay. Please hang on to them as long as you like. I have lots of others too, when you’ve finished those. Just let me know.”
“I will.” Setting the books aside, he glances up at the sky, his blue eyes wide open, not squinting at the sun.
“The sun is very hot. Would you like me to rub some sun lotion on your back?”
Ooh, yes, you can rub whatever you want wherever you want, you gorgeous creature.
I don’t say that, of course. “Thanks, but I think I’m okay for the moment. I just put some on.” I barely have to pause. “Would you like me to do you instead?”
He beams. Ah, what must it be like to be so adorable and know you’re so adorable?
“Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m okay for the moment too.”
Disappointment must be writ large on my face. I’m so pathetic. I told myself I’d never do the ooh-I-fancy-you, do-you-fancy-me dance ever again.
“But maybe in a little while,” he adds, with that little eye-narrow again. He’s wise. He knows what’s going on. “Can I offer you something else in the meantime?”
I can’t help but laugh. The cheeky so-and-so. He has the grace to laugh too, as he starts rummaging
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