11. Chapter 11 #2
He backs out of the doorway. “I’ll just…uh…be out here making lunch. I’ve got a flight tonight, so I usually do a big lunch before trying to get a quick nap in…” He awkwardly trails off, like he’s not used to having to explain his schedule.
“Oh, go ahead. We’ll be fine.” I wave him off. “See you later.”
He smiles, waves, then darts out to the main living space like he can’t get away from us fast enough.
“Poor guy,” Briar says with a giggle. “He’s not going to know what to do with himself, having you living here.”
My brows pull tight as I rip the tape off one of the boxes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She sinks down beside me and starts on another box. “It just means he’s used to living with his younger brother. Not an attractive, intimidating woman like you.”
I scoff and pull out a stack of clothes. “I am not intimidating.”
“You really are. If it weren’t for Jamie introducing us, I never would’ve spoken to you.”
I gape at my friend. “Tell me that’s not really true.”
“So true.”
I brush Briar’s comment aside because there’s no way I’m intimidating to a guy like Dane. Sure, maybe Briar, the sweet, lovely shy thing she is. But not him. He’s all rugged masculinity and confidence rolled into one person.
In an hour, Briar and I filled Parker’s old dresser with my folded clothes and set up my entire closet, complete with the new shoe rack I bought. Figured it was a worthy purchase since I’ll need one at my own place soon enough.
“I counted forty-eight pairs, D,” Briar says, earning my attention. I shut my nightstand drawer and turn toward her.
“Yeah… so?”
Briar stares at me like I’m one sleeve short of a proper shirt. “Shoes. You have almost fifty pairs of shoes.”
“And I wear them all.”
She grabs a clear sparkly set of heels. “I’ve never seen you wear these!”
I huff, pulling them out of her grasp and neatly setting them back down onto the rack. “I wear those when I go dancing sometimes.”
“You go dancing ?”
“On dates, yes.”
Briar crosses her arms and shifts her gaze to the shoes. “Could I…maybe borrow them sometime?”
I sling an arm around her shoulders. “Any time. Maybe we could go dancing on a double date some night soon. Aren’t you still seeing that…what’s his name…Garrett?”
Briar stiffens. “Yeah. For like a month. He’s…okay, but I’m not sure he’d be into a night of dancing.”
“Maybe we can find you someone more interesting, then. Someone like—”
A knock sounds at my door. “Lunch is ready,” Dane says. “If you guys are hungry, I mean. Don’t feel pressured to eat here if you had plans or something…” His tight-lipped smile almost makes me giggle. This new nervous side of him is amusing.
“I’m hungry.” Briar sends me a raised eyebrow look, a silent prodding to be kind.
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” We all head into the kitchen where a delicious display of food fills the counter.
Perfectly placed sandwiches line a large metal tray in the center, next to a large green salad with berries and nuts.
A smaller tray with what looks like hummus and chopped veggies sits beside that.
“Wow,” I breathe. “This looks really good.”
And with a dishtowel slung over his one shoulder as the backdrop to all the beautiful looking food he made for us, I could also say with complete honesty that he looks really good, too.
Dane rubs the back of his neck while he gestures to the food. “Help yourselves. Plates are there, silverware and napkins are over there.” The pristine white plates stacked at the end of the counter beg me to take one of them.
This spread is so flawless and inviting, I’m almost sad to mess it up. Maybe living with Dane won’t be as bad as I originally thought.
“Do you always cook like this, or are we just special?” I find myself asking.
“Ah, yeah. I guess.” He patiently waits for both me and Briar to grab a plate before he files in behind us. “You know Parker. He thinks cookies and French fries are their own food groups. Besides, he couldn’t cook to save his life, so I kind of took on that role.”
Briar and I share a laugh, knowing full well that Parker is addicted to junk food.
“Well, this all looks delicious,” Briar says. “What’s in the sandwiches?”
“Sliced roast beef, spinach and tomato, roasted red pepper mayo, and provolone. All on sprouted wheat bread.” My mouth immediately waters at just the description.
“You seem really health conscious,” I say, stacking my plate with double portions of everything. You’ll never see me turning away free food. Blame it on me never knowing when my next meal would come while growing up. “Briar is also super health conscious.”
I turn so only she can see me and wiggle my eyebrows. She sends me a stern warning glare that I dutifully choose to ignore.
“We were just talking about how she needs to find a more interesting man to date.”
Briar lets out an airy laugh. “No, I believe you were saying that. I was about to tell you that I’m perfectly content with Gary.”
“Garrett,” I correct her before taking a seat at the small kitchen table in the corner.
She clears her throat and takes the seat next to me. “Right. Garrett .”
Dane falls silent as he fills his plate. All until he joins us at the table. “Sorry to hear you’re taken,” he says with a polite smile aimed at Briar. “I’m not sure I’d be a good candidate anyway. Haven’t dated in quite some time. I’m a little rusty.”
I raise an eyebrow, assessing the man in front of me. He looks anything but rusty.
“Do you two mind if I pray?” he asks. “It’s a habit I don’t like to break.”
“Oh, sure,” Briar squeaks, folding her hands and bowing her head. “Go ahead.”
I do the same and close my eyes. But when a warm, calloused hand takes mine, they pop open again. “Dear God,” Dane prays like he didn’t just wrap his hand around mine. I peek to the left. Oh. He’s holding Briar’s hand, too.
“Thank you for this day and thank you for providing this food,” he continues. “We ask that you’d bless these women in whatever they attempt to do today and keep me safe as I head out for another flight. In Your holy name, amen.”
“Amen,” I murmur, not quite sure how to end one of those.
Dane picks up his fork and digs into his salad, which I notice is nowhere near the rest of his food. Everything on his plate seems to have a designated spot. It’s almost too perfect.
Unlike mine.
I glance down at my food, noting the way it’s all haphazardly smooshed together. The sandwiches are piled high, one half dipping into my hummus and salad. I grab a wedge and bite into it. Suddenly I’m more glad than ever that I agreed to this little roomie situation.
“This is delicious.” Briar’s thoughts mirror my own. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, thank you .” I meet Dane’s eyes, hoping he hears the emphasis on those words. I school my expression into one that says, See? I can be polite. A civilized individual, if you will. And as we eat and casually converse, I wonder if living here might not be the worst thing ever.