bemused
expression. If he’d been testing her, he now had more questions than before
he’d kissed her.
Sunny peeled her gloves off, patted them against her
leg. “We’ve been dancing around that for quite some time now,” she said
conversationally. She knew how to be cool, too.
He waited a beat. “And?”
His eyes weren’t just green; they were the color of
the greenest grass. “Well, if you’re going to be staid, then be staid,” she
said. “If you’re going to be sexy, then be sexy.”
“Staid,” he echoed. His lips pursed as he thought
that over, his gaze going off to the side. She noted that was the only
adjective he was questioning. He looked back. “I believe I heard two unspoken
words in that speech. Predictable. And unpredictable.”
She thought over his statement, nodded. “Okay. That,
too.”
“You’re about as unpredictable as unpredictable can
get. That might be one of the few things we have in common.”
“Might be.”
He waited a longer beat. “I’m thinking some
exploration might be in order.”
Not wanting to let him know he’d thrown her, she
tried not to let her eyes narrow or her brow to wrinkle. He was doing it again.
Another provocative statement from a person from whom she did not expect
provocative statements. Romantic exploration was in order?
Then with his eyes and a nod of his head, he
indicated the grove of trees across the grassy field. “I want to explore over
there. Would you like to join me?”
Exactly...what...did he want to explore over there?
He was inviting her.
Was he too innocent, or was she too suspicious?
Okay, until further notice, take him literally.
She looked down at the row of geraniums, one end
neat and the other not, and she decided to think about his guilelessness—or
lack thereof—and her skepticism later. “Thanks, but I want to finish up here.”
He walked away in that precise, straight-backed
stride, and Cat followed. As she watched him, she pursed her lips. Maybe it
hadn’t appeared so at first, but that man had more than his share of sex
appeal.
So, Sunny, what are you going to do
about that?
She pulled her gloves back on, knelt, and got back
to work.
Finish this flowerbed, that’s what.
* * *
The sun’s heat finally let up the next day. Sunny
rose early, let Cat out, and then she couldn’t resist letting herself out as
well. The day was brisk, clear sky, no fog. Sweatshirt weather—at least for
another hour or two. She ran upstairs to get it and pulled it on over her white
tee. Halfway back down the stairs, she paused and looked up. Cupping her hands
around her mouth, she hollered, “Good morning. I’m going for a walk. You’ve got
a half-hour. Tops.”
She continued down the stairs, out the door, and then
on to the beach. Cat caught up and then led. The kitten kept her distance from
the water, but the rest of the beach was her private playground. Sunny didn’t
keep her distance from the surf; that was her playground.
Once she was back home, she kicked the sneakers off
and rinsed her feet and shoes with the backyard hose. She entered the kitchen, went
to the hall and again cupped her hands to her mouth to yell, “I’m back. If
you’re not up, get up.”
She pulled the sweatshirt off, started coffee, and
decided on oatmeal and cantaloupe for breakfast. The cereal was ready before he
showed so she turned the flame off, put a lid on the pot, yelled again, poured
more coffee and sat down to wait. After that unorthodox awakening he’d been
subjected to last week he’d been tuned to the sound of her voice. He’d show any
minute.
She gave the red-checked oilcloth a critical look. This
has gotta go. A peachy print would be pretty, just simple cotton, nothing
fancy.
She eyed the faded yellow cabinets. A deep peach
there, off-white walls, and—
Catching herself, she smiled. No way. The new owners
could do their own decorating.
Then the smile vanished. Enough time had passed that
she gave the empty hallway an
expression. If he’d been testing her, he now had more questions than before
he’d kissed her.
Sunny peeled her gloves off, patted them against her
leg. “We’ve been dancing around that for quite some time now,” she said
conversationally. She knew how to be cool, too.
He waited a beat. “And?”
His eyes weren’t just green; they were the color of
the greenest grass. “Well, if you’re going to be staid, then be staid,” she
said. “If you’re going to be sexy, then be sexy.”
“Staid,” he echoed. His lips pursed as he thought
that over, his gaze going off to the side. She noted that was the only
adjective he was questioning. He looked back. “I believe I heard two unspoken
words in that speech. Predictable. And unpredictable.”
She thought over his statement, nodded. “Okay. That,
too.”
“You’re about as unpredictable as unpredictable can
get. That might be one of the few things we have in common.”
“Might be.”
He waited a longer beat. “I’m thinking some
exploration might be in order.”
Not wanting to let him know he’d thrown her, she
tried not to let her eyes narrow or her brow to wrinkle. He was doing it again.
Another provocative statement from a person from whom she did not expect
provocative statements. Romantic exploration was in order?
Then with his eyes and a nod of his head, he
indicated the grove of trees across the grassy field. “I want to explore over
there. Would you like to join me?”
Exactly...what...did he want to explore over there?
He was inviting her.
Was he too innocent, or was she too suspicious?
Okay, until further notice, take him literally.
She looked down at the row of geraniums, one end
neat and the other not, and she decided to think about his guilelessness—or
lack thereof—and her skepticism later. “Thanks, but I want to finish up here.”
He walked away in that precise, straight-backed
stride, and Cat followed. As she watched him, she pursed her lips. Maybe it
hadn’t appeared so at first, but that man had more than his share of sex
appeal.
So, Sunny, what are you going to do
about that?
She pulled her gloves back on, knelt, and got back
to work.
Finish this flowerbed, that’s what.
* * *
The sun’s heat finally let up the next day. Sunny
rose early, let Cat out, and then she couldn’t resist letting herself out as
well. The day was brisk, clear sky, no fog. Sweatshirt weather—at least for
another hour or two. She ran upstairs to get it and pulled it on over her white
tee. Halfway back down the stairs, she paused and looked up. Cupping her hands
around her mouth, she hollered, “Good morning. I’m going for a walk. You’ve got
a half-hour. Tops.”
She continued down the stairs, out the door, and then
on to the beach. Cat caught up and then led. The kitten kept her distance from
the water, but the rest of the beach was her private playground. Sunny didn’t
keep her distance from the surf; that was her playground.
Once she was back home, she kicked the sneakers off
and rinsed her feet and shoes with the backyard hose. She entered the kitchen, went
to the hall and again cupped her hands to her mouth to yell, “I’m back. If
you’re not up, get up.”
She pulled the sweatshirt off, started coffee, and
decided on oatmeal and cantaloupe for breakfast. The cereal was ready before he
showed so she turned the flame off, put a lid on the pot, yelled again, poured
more coffee and sat down to wait. After that unorthodox awakening he’d been
subjected to last week he’d been tuned to the sound of her voice. He’d show any
minute.
She gave the red-checked oilcloth a critical look. This
has gotta go. A peachy print would be pretty, just simple cotton, nothing
fancy.
She eyed the faded yellow cabinets. A deep peach
there, off-white walls, and—
Catching herself, she smiled. No way. The new owners
could do their own decorating.
Then the smile vanished. Enough time had passed that
she gave the empty hallway an
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