Page 14 of See Her

Walking by the water, we pass the carousel and head down the sidewalk through the park to where it’s quieter.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” he asks attentively, tilting his head in my direction, and just the sweet tone of hisvoice makes my cheeks warm and my fingers itch to latch onto his. They are so close to touching as we walk side-by-side.

“It was okay,” I answer with nonchalance. “Took a dance class with Annie, that’s my best friend,” I wave a hand in explanation. “My brother came over to hang out with me Thursday night, but left me in the lurch for breakfast at our parents this morning.”

“Is your brother older or younger?” he asks.

“He’s a year older.”

“Any other siblings?”

“No, just him. How about you? Got any?”

“Yeah, two sisters, both older.The oldest one is married; the one closer to my age is just goofing off around the world.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “So your oldest sister is married; is she going to make an uncle out of you anytime soon?”

“They talk about it, yeah, so who knows? Maybe. Will you be an aunt anytime soon?”

“Doubtful. My brother isn’t married. He’s in an, uh, shall we say, intense relationship?

“Intense?”

“Okay, volatile. Total love-hate relationship with his live-in girlfriend,so yeah, the poor schmuck seeks refuge at my house sometimes.”

Jack lets out a soft chuckle, and I wish I could see his eyes through his aviators right now.

“Tell me more about you,” he probes, his voice light and interested. “So far, all I know is that you work from home, you dance, you read, and you have an older brother whose ass you love to bust on because the poor guy got sucked into some chick’s flytrap. Oh, and you drink enough sugar to put the whole town's supply on back order.”

“Come on, give me a break on that already!” I say, laughing.He ignores my protest.

“Come on, let’s have it.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything. We’ll start small. Favorite food?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese. You?”

“Are you serious?” he asks, smiling, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Yes. Don’t judge me. Now what’s yours?”

“Steak. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” The words bubble up my throat, along with the light laughter at this fun, short-handed banter we’ve got going. “What about you?”

“Twenty-eight. Last name?”

“Walker. What’s yours?”

“Krasinski.”

“Bless you.”

“Very funny,” he says.

“Beer or wine?” I ask.

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