Chapter Forty-Seven
H e meant it. His whole family would love her. But then they’d also be waiting for him to mess things up. “Let me give you a tour,” he said, changing the subject. “You can see the downstairs. Kitchen, living room, dining room. The bathroom and laundry room are down that little hallway.” He pointed in the direction.
“I love the open space.” Vickie looked around. “It seems so big for one person.”
He nodded. “Yes. And I certainly don’t entertain very often.” Okay, never. “You ready to go upstairs?”
“Lead the way.”
He led her up the staircase. “These are kind of narrow, so be careful.” He chuckled. “Just be glad I didn’t install that escalator.”
She giggled. “Very funny.”
He gave her a quick tour of the upstairs, then led the way out to the small yard. Buster came running up, wagging his tail.
“I think Buster is ready to come in.” Vickie patted the dog’s head. “His ears are cold.”
“He’s probably ready to eat, too.” He looked around. Darkness was beginning to fall. “And how about you? Are you hungry?” He held the door for her to go back inside. “I make a mean pot of spaghetti.” He hoped she like spaghetti because that was the one thing he had ingredients for.
She gave him a dazzling smile. “That sounds great. Are you sure you want to cook though? I’m okay with just grabbing take out or something.”
“I insist.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “Come on.” He glanced quickly around to make sure there were no dirty dishes on the table.
Fifteen minutes later they were side by side, preparing a meal.
If he’d thought it felt intimate when they were at his fishing cabin, that was nothing compared to how it felt to cook dinner with her in his kitchen. Buster was curled up at their feet and for a second the whole scene was so perfect he wished he could freeze it.
“You’re really concentrating on chopping those tomatoes,” he teased. “You know all the slices don’t have to be symmetrical for the sauce to taste good.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I try hard not to be such a perfectionist, but it’s difficult.”
“I happen to think that is a good quality. You’re very conscientious. It’s an admirable trait.”
Vickie wrinkled her forehead. “Thanks, I think.” She laughed. “Those are the words every woman wants to hear from a man. Baby, you’re very conscientious. ”
He chuckled. “If I told you all the things I think about you, you might blush.”
She whirled around to face him. “Try me.”
“With that knife in your hand? I don’t think so.”
“Fine. I’ll put it down.” She let the knife clatter to the cutting board. “Better?”
“Your cheeks are already turning pink and I haven’t even said anything.”
She met his gaze. “Maybe it’s just warm in here.”
“Or maybe you don’t want to hear what I think about you.”
She turned back to pick up the knife and resumed chopping. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay. I think you’re really smart. And kind. My dog likes you.” He paused. “And I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known in real life.” Had he really just said that out loud? Somewhere along the way he had lost the ability to beat around the bush so he had just blurted it out.
Vickie dropped the knife again and slowly turned to face him. “Really?” she whispered.
Thatcher couldn’t take it any longer. He had tried, really tried to keep her at a distance. He’d told himself it was in her best interest and that there was no way she would ever want him once she knew everything about him. But standing there in his kitchen, her green eyes boring into his, he could no longer deny sparks between them. The air was practically electrified.
He tentatively reached out a hand and stroked her cheek.
She half-smiled at his touch.
Thatcher hoped that meant she was going to be okay with what he was about to do. He pulled her gently to him. Their faces were inches apart. For a moment a hint of fear reflected in her eyes, but in a flash it gave way to a smile. He hesitated just before his lips touched hers, breathing in the moment. When he finally placed his lips on hers, she returned his kiss with no hesitation and time seemed to stand still.
She pulled back, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she breathed.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He smiled.
Vickie’s cell phone buzzed. She walked over to the table and picked it up. “It’s my aunt Rose. I should take it.”
He motioned up the stairs. “You’re welcome to use one of the rooms upstairs if you want some privacy. I’ll finish the food.”
“Thanks.”
He could hear her saying hello as she went up the stairs.
Thatcher leaned against the counter. He had crossed the line. There was no going back now.