7. Making It Work
7
MAKING IT WORK
F oster couldn’t believe he might actually be doing something remotely close to flirting until Charlotte pointed out he was acting differently.
He wasn’t even sure why he was other than he was touched that she’d bought him three-dollar painting supplies when most women he dated expected him to pay for three hundred-dollar meals nightly.
And the cookies.
Good lord, if he ate another he was going to be ill, but they were just too damn good.
“Sometimes we have to make changes that are hard,” he said.
He knew that. He’d done it enough in his life.
He got things under control and knew the signs if they reappeared.
His family gave him the space he needed. Most times.
“Tell me about it,” she said. “Like home ownership in a small town when you’ve never known anything like it.”
“You’re making it work,” he said.
“It feels like barely, but I’m glad to have a neighbor bail me out now and again when I stumble.”
He wasn’t sure where she was going with this.
He was pretty sure she didn’t know who he was and it was just a comment on the few times he’d helped her.
He’d give her the benefit of the doubt.
“At least your hair is dry and you’re dressed today.”
“Talk about embarrassing,” she said.
She reached for the plate of cookies when he handed them back because he wanted to squat down and pet Marco again. Was Laken right and puppies could lighten his mood?
The mutt jumped up and he caught him and then lifted him to scratch him under the chin.
“What kind of dog is he?”
“No clue,” she said. “A little bit of shepherd and beagle, I think. They weren’t sure. I got him at the shelter. Which is funny because all my friends used to say I’d be the one carrying a tiny dog in a purse.”
“You don’t look that to me,” he said.
She was wearing gray cotton shorts, a pair of those ugly black rubber slip-on shoes that were open in the back, and a blue T-shirt with pieces of dirt hanging off of it.
Her blonde hair was in a ponytail and she had sunglasses on top of her head. He found it nice that she lifted them as she got closer to talk.
There was nothing worse than talking to someone and not knowing if they were paying attention or not because you couldn’t see their eyes.
“You haven’t seen me at my best.”
“I think you learn more about people when they aren’t,” he said.
She tilted her head. “That might be my problem in life.”
He lifted his eyebrow and scratched Marco under the chin some more. “I doubt it,” he said. “You seem to be doing well enough on your own. Unless you’ve got some man that you date long distance, I assumed you’re doing it all and out to prove something to someone.”
“I am,” she said. “To myself more than my loser exes.”
“That’s all that is important then,” he said.
“We’ll let you get back to your work,” she said. “I’m sure you don’t have a lot of time to do things and it’s a big property.”
“Why do you say that? About the time?”
“You go to work early in the morning,” she said. “Sometimes I’m working late in my office and see you pull into the driveway late. I’m not spying or anything. It’s just hard not to notice when one of the windows in my office faces your driveway.”
“True,” he said. “But that just tells me you work a lot too.”
“Again, having to prove myself. Falls in line with one of those long stories.”
“And now that you own a home, on the weekend you have no time for fun,” he said. “More chores than ever before.”
“I’m learning that,” she said. “It’s fine. I need this. Marco and I can go for a walk to relax. Hey, before I leave. I know I don’t have access to the water. I can’t see it either, but is there a public spot I can walk to around here?”
He wasn’t sure what possessed him to say this. “If you’re looking to just see the water, you can come down my driveway and take the path on the right. It will take you right to my beach.”
The left brought him to his backyard and his deck. If she just wanted to see the water to relax or take a break, he wasn’t going to tell her no.
“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it. I might do it when you’re working to get a breather. I don’t want to bother you.”
“No bother,” he said.
“Do you want me to put these on your porch?”
“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble. You can check out the path if you want so you know where you’re going.”
She smiled and he felt a fluttering in his belly like he had when he was fourteen and he found Braylon’s Playboy magazine hidden under the mattress.
He knew what arousal was, but this felt as if it was something else.
Which might explain why he was comfortable enough to slip and say a bit about his family when he didn’t normally.
If he gave his last name, she could figure out who he was if she did a simple enough search. Most women do that now when they are dating someone new.
He wanted to get to know her more, but it was as he said—you learned more when people weren’t at their best and when they didn’t know who you were.
* * *
Charlotte tried to make sure there wasn’t a pep in her step as she walked toward Foster’s backyard.
Her back burned from where she felt his gaze on her and she could at least let her smile go freely knowing he couldn’t see it.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun talking to a man.
He was right—she wasn’t at her best.
She wasn’t prepared.
She wasn’t dolled up and ready to party.
She didn’t even have makeup on. Heck, there was probably dirt on her face!
But he flirted with her when she got the impression he didn’t do that with many.
The front of Foster’s house was nice, but it looked small. Until she made her way to the side and realized the land sloped down and the house was fairly huge.
Holy crap, it was three stories back here. It’s not like she couldn’t turn around and look at it.
And there was one nice sailboat in the dock. Somehow she wasn’t surprised he’d go for something he had to work at to be on the water rather than a motorized boat.
“What do you think of this, Marco?”
She walked closer to the beach, saw a bench, and sat with her dog to look at the water.
She could see other houses around but not close by. It was so quiet it was almost eerie.
But maybe quiet was what she needed in her life too.