electronic device, because, for whatever reason, it helped cement the information into my brain. I half expected him to tease me a little for my archaic practices, but when I peered across the restaurant table at him, he was too busy devouring the chocolate brownie surprise to care if I was making the list with carbon and papyrus. His second chocolate brownie surprise, I might add.
“Oliver!” I exclaimed, stifling a giggle when he looked up at me with a few chocolate crumbs straggling around his lip and in his facial hair. “Do they not have brownies in Illinois? My God, man. Come up for a breath every so often. We’re supposed to make a final decision on the house by the end of the week, and I’m starting to think you’re just going to vote for the one with the biggest kitchen. A lobster roll, cup of chowder, basket of fries, and two desserts? Where do you put all of it?”
“My mom used to call me a bottomless pit. She said I’d out-eat all three of my sisters combined and never gain a pound,” he divulged as he swiped at the remnants of the sweets with his napkin before tossing a playful grin in my direction. “And for the record, Miss Smarty Pants, they do have brownies in Illinois, but they don’t have lobster rolls or chowder . . . at least not like this.”
With a stifled giggle, I grabbed the napkin from my own lap and leaned across the table, brushing away the specks of food that he’d missed in his beard. “Well, I believe it. The bottomless pit part, that is.” I dropped the cloth on the table once he was crumb-free. “But now it’s time to work. I need your help analyzing all this info.”
The same rosy color I’d seen on his cheeks earlier in my car returned as he tried to hide behind the curtain of his dark, wavy hair. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a man blush before Oliver, and I liked it. Well, I liked when he did it, as it softened his sharp, masculine facial features and made him seem a little more warm, comfortable, and snug.
Kind of like a stuffed animal.
“I’m ready now,” he announced after a drink of water, his lips still turned up in a coy smile, “but for future reference, if you bring a hungry man into a restaurant filled with all of these delicious smells, you shouldn’t expect to get anything done until he’s stuffed himself full. You’re a married woman. You gotta know better than that.”
Initially, his mention of my husband triggered a twinge of guilt that I didn’t quite expect or understand. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Colin knew exactly where I was and who I was with, not that we had the kind of relationship where he would ever get jealous anyway. And Oliver and I had spent the day discussing floor plans, storage space, and square footage as we’d toured the two properties for Mending Hearts, only engaging in friendly conversation while we were in the car, which never came close to being inappropriate. Oliver wouldn’t even tell me what the guy at the bar actually said about me other than the smelling like peaches thing, claiming the rest was too obscene and offensive to repeat in my company.
It clearly didn’t make any sense that I should feel guilty for anything, so I chalked up the foreign emotion to my inexperience of spending one-on-one time with a man other than Colin or Seth. Before Oliver, I rarely found myself in a situation where I was alone with a guy who wasn’t one of them for an extended period of time, and that was completely on purpose. Men in social settings, I could handle just fine; there were even some whose company and conversation I enjoyed quite a bit. But that was where my comfort level began to waver.
I’d known from the night at the gala that Oliver was different than most men, however. A combination of his closeness with Allison, which in and of itself spoke volumes, his devotion and dedication to helping abused children, and his sweet and tender disposition immediately placed him in the safe zone in my mind, which was
“Oliver!” I exclaimed, stifling a giggle when he looked up at me with a few chocolate crumbs straggling around his lip and in his facial hair. “Do they not have brownies in Illinois? My God, man. Come up for a breath every so often. We’re supposed to make a final decision on the house by the end of the week, and I’m starting to think you’re just going to vote for the one with the biggest kitchen. A lobster roll, cup of chowder, basket of fries, and two desserts? Where do you put all of it?”
“My mom used to call me a bottomless pit. She said I’d out-eat all three of my sisters combined and never gain a pound,” he divulged as he swiped at the remnants of the sweets with his napkin before tossing a playful grin in my direction. “And for the record, Miss Smarty Pants, they do have brownies in Illinois, but they don’t have lobster rolls or chowder . . . at least not like this.”
With a stifled giggle, I grabbed the napkin from my own lap and leaned across the table, brushing away the specks of food that he’d missed in his beard. “Well, I believe it. The bottomless pit part, that is.” I dropped the cloth on the table once he was crumb-free. “But now it’s time to work. I need your help analyzing all this info.”
The same rosy color I’d seen on his cheeks earlier in my car returned as he tried to hide behind the curtain of his dark, wavy hair. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen a man blush before Oliver, and I liked it. Well, I liked when he did it, as it softened his sharp, masculine facial features and made him seem a little more warm, comfortable, and snug.
Kind of like a stuffed animal.
“I’m ready now,” he announced after a drink of water, his lips still turned up in a coy smile, “but for future reference, if you bring a hungry man into a restaurant filled with all of these delicious smells, you shouldn’t expect to get anything done until he’s stuffed himself full. You’re a married woman. You gotta know better than that.”
Initially, his mention of my husband triggered a twinge of guilt that I didn’t quite expect or understand. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Colin knew exactly where I was and who I was with, not that we had the kind of relationship where he would ever get jealous anyway. And Oliver and I had spent the day discussing floor plans, storage space, and square footage as we’d toured the two properties for Mending Hearts, only engaging in friendly conversation while we were in the car, which never came close to being inappropriate. Oliver wouldn’t even tell me what the guy at the bar actually said about me other than the smelling like peaches thing, claiming the rest was too obscene and offensive to repeat in my company.
It clearly didn’t make any sense that I should feel guilty for anything, so I chalked up the foreign emotion to my inexperience of spending one-on-one time with a man other than Colin or Seth. Before Oliver, I rarely found myself in a situation where I was alone with a guy who wasn’t one of them for an extended period of time, and that was completely on purpose. Men in social settings, I could handle just fine; there were even some whose company and conversation I enjoyed quite a bit. But that was where my comfort level began to waver.
I’d known from the night at the gala that Oliver was different than most men, however. A combination of his closeness with Allison, which in and of itself spoke volumes, his devotion and dedication to helping abused children, and his sweet and tender disposition immediately placed him in the safe zone in my mind, which was
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