Truly, Madly, Whiskey(29)
She laughed about the fries. “How do you know my favorite ice cream combination?”
“From the Easter parade with Tru and the kids. How could I forget?” His voice went deep. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you licking that four-decker cone.”
The parade had been several weeks ago. How had he remembered something so trivial? That now seems meaningful. She remembered the lascivious looks he’d given her, and she turned away again, hoping to hide the heat burning her skin.
“I think I remember Dixie wiping drool from your mouth,” she teased. “Today is like sweetness overload. Thank you.” She kissed the top of Harley’s head. “Where did you get her?”
“She’s one of Big Mama’s litter.”
“Really?” Could her heart get any fuller? She hadn’t been by his shop since Truman and Gemma had moved to their new house and Quincy, Truman’s brother, had moved into their old apartment above the shop several weeks ago. But she’d seen Bear with Big Mama and knew how much he loved her.
“That makes her even more special,” she said.
He followed her in and set the drinks on the distressed wooden trunk she used as a coffee table, beside the candles and the design magazine she’d been looking through earlier in the week.
“I got everything you’ll need for her.” He went back out and carried in a bag of kitty supplies and a cat box, which he must have left in the hall.
“Bear, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you. You saved me a trip to the store before work. Oh gosh, I don’t want to leave her. I’m going to take her with me.”
“Think Gemma will be cool with that?”
“She loves kitties. I’ll keep her in the office. I don’t want her to be alone all day.”
She watched him survey her eclectic, one-bedroom apartment. She’d never had a man in it before, and Bear was so big and broad, he made the space feel a little more confined, but in a good way. A very good way. She liked seeing him there among her things.
“I’ve thought about what your place might look like forever.” He walked over to the bookshelves separating the kitchen from the living room. They were filled with books, plants, glass vases, and of course, a handful of the dolls her father had made for her. She kept her favorites in her bedroom, where she needed to feel safest.
He picked up one of the dolls, inspecting it closely, and the warmest smile appeared on his handsome face. “I love that you have so many of these.” From where he stood, he couldn’t see into the dining room, her design studio, where more worry dolls were lined up on the windowsill.
“Thank you. My father made me a lot of them. It shows how often he traveled.” She watched him looking over her things and felt a bit exposed. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. It was just new. “They’re just yarn, fabric, and twigs, but they carry so many of my worries. They’ve pulled me through a lot.”
“You’ve pulled you through a lot.” He set the doll back on the shelf. “Was this the first apartment you rented here?”
“This is the only place that has ever been mine. I went from living with my parents, to college, then here. When I first rented the apartment, I had no money, and I lived with nothing more than a beach chair and a mattress on the floor for the first few weeks. I didn’t mind, though, because it was mine. Every time I went to buy cheap furniture, I got a sick feeling in my stomach, because they reminded me of the person my mother had become.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay. Jogs and gaps and all that. I was working at the department store, making next to nothing. But when I started working with Gemma, I worked extra hours, and I hunted for bargains. I found pieces like the zebra-striped rug and that antique dresser at amazing prices.” She pointed to the antique dresser by the balcony. “This was my new beginning. My home. I wanted to love coming home, and I do.” It was her first safe haven.
“I can see why.” He ran his hand over an antique chest, touching each of the colorful candles on top, and glanced outside. “You can almost see the beach. It’s a great location.”
She watched his gaze move over the gray, velvet-tufted couch, which reminded her of the local hipster coffee shop. The wall behind the sofa was red and black brick; the other walls were painted peach. On the opposite side of the room was an overstuffed red armchair with a worn indentation that fit her rear end perfectly, and a patchwork footstool from Pier One. She loved that stool. Behind the chair hung an enormous slate-blue clock that was six feet in circumference, surrounded by pictures she’d collected over the years.
“I like your place,” he said after what felt like an hour but in reality was probably two minutes. “It’s very cool. Very you.”
He approached her with a tender look in his eyes. He was still worried about her, and that made her nervous. She was okay. At least she was okay for now, and she needed him to know that.
“I’m glad you want to take Harley with you. She’s not used to being alone all day.” He scratched the kitty’s head. “She likes you.”
“Of course she likes me. I’m pretty kick-ass. What’s not to like?”
“I can’t think of a damn thing.” His eyes heated as he reached for her, and just as quickly, he gritted his teeth and stopped short of touching her. “Can I give you a kiss on your cheek?”