Page 31 of Shea's Hero

“Oliver.” Crap. Is my voice shaking? Taking a deep breath, I try again. “Hi. How are you?”

His smile expands. “Shea. I’m good. Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Ugh. That sounds so formal. So unlike our old greetings, when I’d call out Oliver’s name in a joyful tone just before flinging myself into his arms. Then he’d pick me up so our faces were level and he’d kiss me until my heart fluttered and we were both gasping for breath.

But I can’t expect that anymore. So I shove aside the disappointment and meet his smile with one of my own. “I’m glad you texted. I felt… Well. Last night… It wasn’t…”

Oh, my gosh. What is wrong with me?

“I know.” Oliver holds my gaze. “I didn’t feel good about it, either.” From behind him, he pulls out a white paper bag with the wordsSleepy Sweetsprinted on it. Holding it out to me, he says, “A new bakery just opened in town. I heard they have the best snickerdoodle cookies, and I remembered they were your favorites. So…”

He trails off, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “I just thought you might enjoy them. Unless you don’t like snickerdoodles anymore?”

The band around my chest releases a notch. Not just because he remembered, which is sweet on its own, but because I’m realizing I’m not the only one nervous here.

“I love them.” Taking the bag, I unroll the top and take a sniff, inhaling the scent of freshly baked cookies. “Thank you, Oll. You didn’t have to?—”

“It’s not a big deal,” he replies, his cheeks turning a bit pink. “I was headed home after my shift, and the bakery was on the way, and I just thought… You used to be obsessed with those snickerdoodles at that bakery in McLean.”

“Those cookies were incredible.” Smiling at the memory, I add, “Remember their Christmas cookies? They were so pretty?—”

“That you couldn’t bring yourself to eat them.” He grins. “All those cookies I bought you, and they went stale just sitting on a plate in the kitchen.”

My smile fades. I remember. It was our last Christmas together, and Oliver had been traveling overseas on and off since the fall. It had been much harder than I expected, and I wasn’t handling it well. When he gave me those cookies… I didn’t eat them because I claimed they were too pretty. But that wasn’t the truth at all.

“Shea?” He eyes me with concern. “If you don’t want them. Or if I overstepped?—”

“You didn’t. And I do want them.” Gesturing for him to come inside, I continue, “Thank you. Really. I just… Do you want to sit?”

Oliver glances at the couch. A moment later, his lips twitch. “Those are very nice pillows.”

“Um. I guess?” The throw pillows are made of a soft denim fabric in an array of blues, what I thought was a nice complement to the cream-colored couch. Then I follow his gaze to the karate-chop-style crease in each of them, and a tiny snort of laughter escapes. “You mean the chops?”

“Yeah.” He heads to the couch and sits down on it, carefully setting the pillows to the side. “Maya does it too. The chopping thing. She says they do it on HGTV.”

“They do,” I agree. As I join him on the couch—leaving a full cushion between us—I add, “I started watching HGTV a few years ago. It’s surprisingly addictive.”

“So I’ve heard. I can’t get into it, though.”

“Are you still watching those history shows, then?”

“Sometimes.” He pauses. “I’ve been pretty busy. With moving, and the new job, and spending time with Maya and Cole and Clara…”

“Are you dating anyone?” It just bursts out. My face goes hot as I quickly amend, “Sorry. That’s none of my business. Forget I asked.”

He stares at me for a moment with an inscrutable expression. “No. I’m not.” A beat, and then, “Are you?”

“No. There hasn’t been—” I stop myself, afraid of saying too much.

Then again, if there’s any chance…

“There hasn’t been anyone,” I tell him. “Just a few first dates. But that’s all.”

Surprise flickers across his face. “No one? I thought?—”

My heart thuds hard. “You thought what?”

He hesitates. Sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”

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