The Look of Love (The Sullivans #1)(19)

She half-expected him to say something like, “I’m not most guys.” Instead, he asked, “So, what do you do?”

He was being so careful with her. She felt it in every glance, every word. Even now, when he could so easily have asked her where she was from or why she was running, he was getting to know her another way instead. Just as he hadn’t touched her without her permission last night. It was as if there were a silent agreement between them that he wouldn’t push too far or get in too deep before she allowed him in.

The question was, would she dare let him in?

Chloe didn’t have an answer. How could she, when she was afraid to even acknowledge the question?

He handed her a gourmet sandwich and as she took it, she said, “Well, I’ve been waitressing.”

He nodded. “But what do you like to do?”

Most people would have stopped at her day job. But not Chase. He was truly interested. And that honest interest went a long way toward shoving aside her reluctance to talk about herself. She paused before answering, “I make quilts.”

People never knew what to make of that. Most assumed it was a hobby. Others just thought it was plain weird or boring. Men, without exception, dismissed it as just another housewife craft.

“Tell me more.”

Downplaying it like she usually did, she said, “I like seeing how fabrics come together in patterns.”

“I’ve photographed a few quilt shows and art quilts for various publications, so I know a little bit about it, but I’d love to know more. When did you start?”

Chloe rarely had a chance to wax on about her love for quilting. Not since she’d last been a member of a quilting guild years and years ago. She missed those women—and their shared passion—terribly.

Which was probably why she actually found herself telling Chase, “I started quilting when I lost a close friend from college in a car accident. She had been such a passionate quilter. Her mom actually owned a store in town. It was the only way I could think of to keep up my connection to her. And it gave me something else to think about—the motion of my hands and the needle, the patterns of fabric and shape, the building of something that I could create. Sometimes I can almost feel her watching me from up above with a smile on her face.”

“I’m sure she is.”

She started at Chase’s words. Had she really just said all of that to him? Somehow he had gotten her to talk about her passion for quilting—a subject that would have put nearly every guy on the planet to sleep.

She wasn’t at all comfortable acknowledging that Chase had just become the exception. And that it had felt so good to share herself with someone who was really listening.

She was being stupid, letting herself think that this fantasy of sitting with a gorgeous guy on a hilltop in Napa Valley had anything to do with her real life.

It didn’t.

She put down her sandwich and made herself face him, but before she could say anything, he said, “Uh-oh. That’s not a good look.”

She wasn’t going to smile. There was no place for grinning when she was about to set him straight, when she was about to make her position on the two of them perfectly clear. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I like you.”

The glow his words caused was too bright. Too warm. Forcing herself to blot it out, she said, “You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to.”

No pauses. No smooth words. No trying to charm her into agreeing with him. Didn’t he realize just how much harder his honest responses were making this for her?

“Is this what you do?”

“What am I doing?”

“You keep helping me, making me breakfast, asking Jeremy to be nice to me all day.”

He frowned and she could see that he was confused. “Is there something wrong with wanting to make you smile?”

Oh. Wow. Why did he have to say that?

She couldn’t think of any other man who’d simply wanted to make her smile. Not even the man she’d married.

Frustrated with herself for being so soft—so easy to turn to goo—she made herself come at him one more time with, “I get it if you’re into saving people, but—”

“I’m not a saint, Chloe. I’ll always take care of my family, but I’ve never gone out looking for women who need to be saved. And it’s not why I asked you to stay.”

His low voice cut her accusation off in mid-stream and she found herself unable to look away from his serious expression. Feeling like a big jerk for doing anything and everything she could think of to try and keep herself from doing something really, really stupid like falling for him, she said, “Look, Chase, you really have been nice.” Despite having been slow to hand her a towel last night, she silently amended with a flush. “But, we’re not going to do…well…you know.”

Ugh. She wasn’t used to having conversations like this.

She half-expected—half-wanted—him to tell her she was wrong. That they were, in fact, going to end up doing well-you-know if she stuck around much longer.

Instead, his expression grew perfectly serious. “Earlier, when we were out in the vineyard, when I asked you to stay, you didn’t want to. But I didn’t let up until you finally gave in.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly upset with himself. “I would never want to force you to do something you don’t want to do, Chloe. I don’t ever want to take something from you that you don’t want to give me.”