I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(24)

“A little Italian restaurant we used to love. I actually haven’t been back since before we broke up, so I’m looking forward to it.”

He nodded, smiling softly like he was in on a secret.

“What?” I asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

He broke out in a smile that made me glance away. I really shouldn’t be feeling so drawn to a man who wanted to keep me firmly in the friendzone. I should be focusing on my safe bet. On my Mr. Collins.

I couldn’t help but smile at the comparison. Andy was not as bad as Mr. Collins. Yet, he was not as dapper as Mr. Darcy. But maybe not everything in my life had to mirror my favorite book. In fact, it was better if it didn’t.

“If you had good memories at that Italian place, then taking you there is probably his way of trying to remind you of the good times,” Liam explained, even though I hadn’t pressed him.

“You know, the hard part is done,” I said, gesturing to the weeded and tilled plot. “I’ve got this handled if you need to be somewhere.”

He held my gaze. Was he moving closer again? Just a minute ago he was on the furthest edge of the plot. Now he looked decidedly closer. “I have nowhere to be today until later.”

“What about Spike?”

“Spike’s never home,” he said, his mouth pinching into a tight line. “I see him at the skate park sometimes when I discreetly drive past it, but most of the time I have no idea where that kid is.”

“How does that not stress you out to no end?” I asked, mouth slack.

“It does. But what can I do about it? I’m not his dad. He lived with my mom until a few months ago, but she’s been so absent that Spike basically raised himself. It’s hard to get him to tell me anything when he’s been independent for so long.” He smiled softly. “But he always comes home to eat.”

“He sounds like an inside-outside cat.”

Liam laughed. “That’s exactly what he is.”

“So Spike hasn’t lived in Bellmead for long?”

“No. When Vera found out that Spike was alone most of the time, she threw a fit, and that’s when I got involved. Vera and my mom never got along, even before my parents were divorced.” He swallowed, and I could see the strain this had taken on him. “My mom signed over guardianship, and I decided to bring an office up to Bellmead so we could both be here for him.”

“That was kind of you.”

Liam dug a hole and dropped a bulb in it before covering it up again. “It was just the right thing to do.”

“Not everyone chooses the right thing though,” I pressed. The sun beat down on us, but I didn’t even mind the discomfort. I just held his gaze. “It was still kind.”

He didn’t respond to that, merely shooting me a brief half-smile, so I changed the subject to Teaching United. We went back to planting the tulips, chatting about the charity ball and how successful Liam thought it was. He shared stories of teaching the kids how to play football, and I found myself watching him more than once, the trowel in my hand forgotten as Liam’s animated face spoke of little boys tackling him to the ground or chasing him for the ball. Joy was evident on his face, and it was crystal clear that Liam loved serving those children.

It didn’t surprise me. He was down to earth—literally, at present—and just the opposite of the high-powered businessman I thought he was when we’d met the first time in Beth’s salon. Just because he dated a movie star did not mean he was one himself. He had access to the glittering world of Hollywood, evidently, but this was just a regular man. A regular man who claimed to have a giant trust fund and had started a huge nonprofit that celebrities openly supported.

What an amazing person he was.

“Careful. Keep staring, and your eyes might stick.”

Well, an amazing man with terrible dad jokes. “That was bad.”

“Yeah, I can’t help it sometimes.”

I laughed, pressing dirt down over another tulip bulb and moving on to the next space. We were nearing the end of the plot, and I was looking forward to a break before starting on the other side of the porch.

“Why doesn’t Vera hire someone to do this?” I asked. “I know she has guys come mow the lawn and trim the bushes.”

“Because if she hired someone else, she wouldn’t get to play matchmaker.”

I stilled. He’d actually referenced it out loud. Wasn’t that breaking some code between us? I thought we were supposed to pretend it wasn’t happening.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “I’ve enjoyed the fruits of her efforts. She’s going to be heartbroken when I tell her you’re dating someone else.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed sarcastically. I stood up, dusting the dirt from my pants. “I mean, if I didn’t have a date tonight, then you were totally planning on asking me for round two.”

He had the gall to look affronted, climbing to his feet as well. “How do you know I wasn’t?”

Because you kissed my cheek when I was practically begging for romance. Nothing screamed friend zone more than that. I just lifted my eyebrows. This would be a prime moment to lift one eyebrow if I’d had that skill. But no. I would have to settle for less.