Page 28 of The Dallas Dilemma

“I can’t answer that for you, Josette. I can tell you that his anxiety seemed to be far more severe than yours is. It took himweeksto feel comfortable enough with me to want to hang out outside of our usual class project meetings.”

She seems to catch what I’m not saying. That it only took her a few days to muscle through her own anxiety and agree to spend time with me. She returns my smile, her cheeks blooming with color as she holds my gaze without glancing away.

“You’re so pretty.” Shit, did I say that out loud?

Josette’s eyes widen as her cheeks turn even redder, then her gaze flutters down to her plate. Yep. Totally said it out loud.

When she clears her throat, stands, and starts to tidy the table, I hop to my feet, saying, “Please. Let me clean up.”

“I can do it,” she says, and I consider it a small victory when she meets my eyes without hesitation.

“Please,” I repeat. “You cooked. I clean. Just relax and have some more wine.”

She stares at me with unblinking eyes for several beats, then slowly nods. I grab the bottle of wine from the fridge as she retakes her seat, and she thanks me softly after I refill her glass. I set the bottle on the table before grabbing our plates and taking them into the kitchen. I feel her gaze on me as I scrape them into the trash can, rinse them, and load them into the dishwasher.

I remember where the plastic storage containers are from helping her reorganize after I fixed the cabinets, and when I reach in to grab a large one to store the leftover ziti, Josette speaks up.

“Grab two. You’re taking half of it home with you.”

I grin at her and nod. “Thanks. I’d love some leftovers.”

Once I have the food divvied up, I head back to the table for the plate of leftover garlic bread and she says, “There are some resealable storage bags under the sink. Take some bread, too.”

I thank her and do as she says, and after I finish loading the dishwasher and start it, I begin wiping down the counters. I can still feel her watching me, but I take my time anyway. Dinner is over, but I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, either, and knowing Josette, she’d feel anxious about asking me to leave. Hell, she’d be anxious about asking me to stay, too.

I just need to be clear, concise, and leave the ball in her court.

After washing and drying my hands, I walk back toward her, stopping a couple of feet away. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” she says.

“Do you want to hang out for a while? Or do you want me to go?” I ask, keeping my voice even so my tone won’t influence her to say what she thinks I want to hear.

There’s a moment of panic in her eyes, then she stiffens her spine, nods, and says, “I’d like to hang out for a while, if you’re up for it.”

I can’t contain my wide grin as I exhale roughly and say, “I’d love to.”

We stare at each other with matching goofy smiles for several moments, then Josette clears her throat and stands. “Do you want to watch a movie, or something?”

“Sure,” I say, holding out an arm for her to lead the way. “That sounds great.”

She nods up at me and takes her wine glass with her as she heads for the living room. I take a moment to refill my own glass from the bottle before following her. She sits on one end of the couch, and I take the other, leaving a couple of feet of space between us. The last thing I want to do is crowd her and make her uncomfortable. Using the remote, she pulls up my favorite streaming service and navigates through the lists.

Her “Your Next Watch” list is enlightening, mostly romantic comedies with a few true crime documentaries sprinkled throughout. Josette navigates past the list and starts sifting through the action movies, so I hold out my hand.

“Wait. Let me see that.”

She arches a brow but hands the remote over, and I go back to her recommendation list. After scrollingthrough the titles for a few seconds, I pause and look over at her.

“How aboutYou’ve Got Mail? I haven’t seen that one in years.”

Josette stares at me with wide eyes for a moment, opens her mouth and closes it a couple of times, then inhales deeply before saying, “I love that movie.”

“So do I,” I say, then I press the button to start the film.

I can see her staring at me in my peripheral vision for a full minute, but I keep my eyes glued to the screen. Eventually, she takes a sip of her wine and settles back, turning her attention to the movie. Halfway through, we’re bantering and laughing and God, I want this to become an everyday thing. Josette is so comfortable, she even reaches over to swat my arm when I say something ridiculous. It feels amazing.

And I just like being around her.

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