You Might Just Get It by Julia Barrett, Winterheart Design Page A

doing this? Sitting here at a table in a man’s apartment, eating his food, allowing herself to be disarmed by his charm, fantasizing about things forty-one year old women weren’t supposed to do with twenty-something year old, very attractive men.
    “ You’re a nurse, right?” Eric asked.
    “ Yes.”
    “ Just, yes? Not yes, I work intensive care or yes, I do oncology nursing? Just, yes?”
    Kate smiled again. She couldn’t help it. His good humor was infectious. “I don’t talk much about my work. It freaks some people out. I’m a hospice nurse.”
    “ Oh, so you see dead people.”
    Eric’s delivery was so deadpan Kate nearly spit out a mouthful of bread.
    “ Yes.” She laughed. “I see dead people. Where’d you pick up the hospice humor?”
    “ Friend of mine. She’s a medical social worker. I guess you have to laugh or you can’t do the job, right?”
    “ You got it,” replied Kate. She took a sip of the fresh squeezed orange juice Eric had poured for her. She raised her glass to him. “Nice,” she said. “I ought to buy myself a juicer.”
    “ No need,” said Eric. “You can use mine anytime you want.”
     
    ***
     
    Eric lifted his eyes and studied the woman seated across the small table from him. Her damp curls surrounded her head like a halo. The first time he’d seen her, in the window across the courtyard, her hair had been damp, just like this. Sweet. Very appealing. He doubted she had any idea her kitchen window looked directly into his. Probably not. She’d only moved in ten days ago. Eric assumed she was still busy unpacking. That was one of the reasons he’d invited her to dinner, one reason among many. He wondered briefly how old Kate was. It was hard to tell. She could be anywhere from twenty-nine to forty-five. But he wasn’t about to ask her and he didn’t care. Her age didn’t matter to him. Her laugh did. Her big brown eyes did. Her luscious lips. Her wide white smile.
    When he’d arrived home and found her soaked to the skin and shivering on the stoop, he got to play the hero. That was twice in two days. There was no way he’d pass up an opportunity to spend time with her. He’d hoped she’d accept his offer of dinner and he‘d been pleased when she did. It was no big deal, one of his easy meals. Oven toasted rustic bread with melted gruyere, roasted tomatoes, baby arugula and a soft fried egg. Simple and sensuous. The sandwich was messy and it required the use of all your fingers. There was a lot of runny egg yolk and licking involved. Eric hoped he could segue that licking into something else entirely.
    God, there was a lot to like about her. Not only was Kate easy on the eyes, she was intelligent, articulate, mature, and she appreciated his sense of humor. Plus she blushed at the drop of a hat. Eric found that adorable. She wasn’t jaded or flighty, like so many women he’d met recently. He’d bet the farm she hadn’t grown up in California. Probably Iowa or Illinois. Someplace rural. An old-fashioned country girl.
    “ Where’d you come from? I mean, where are you from originally?” he asked.
    “ Blair, Nebraska. It’s a little town near the Missouri River. I went to school there. Dana College. You?”
    “ Minneapolis.”
    “ You’re kidding? You don’t have a Minnesota accent.”
    “ Yeah, well, I worked hard getting rid of that. I can do it if you like.”
    “ You mean like…Minnesooooota, North Dakoooooota, ya think? Like that?”
    It was Eric’s turn to laugh. “More or less.” He looked at her plate. “Finished?”
    “ Oh, yes, thank you. The sandwich was great. I can cook, but I guess it never occurred to me that such simple ingredients could taste so good together.” Kate reached for his empty plate and set it on top of hers. “Let me help clean up. That’s the least I can do.”
    He watched as Kate rose from her chair and stretched. The view pleased him. Her breasts were pert. Not large, but pert with perky nipples. Two handfuls.