Page 42 of A Dream for Daphne

“Do you lay your men off?” she asked.

“I do,” he said. “I hate it, but not much I can do about it. If I could figure out work to do all year round I would, but it’s hard in this climate. Most of my crew are college kids anyway, so it’s not a big deal. Some of the others like having the winter off and collecting unemployment.”

“Then it works out,” she said.

“I find in life that tends to happen more than we realize.”

She nodded her head and the two of them continued to eat.

The silence didn’t bother her, but it did feel a bit awkward once the fun meal creation was done.

He offered to clean up since she cooked, but they did it together.

When everything was put away, including the leftovers—she’d told him he could keep half and she’d bring home enough for another meal—she didn’t know what they should do.

Or what to even talk about.

“I’m so nervous again,” she said suddenly.

“Why?” he asked, turning to lean on the kitchen counter.

His legs were crossed, his arms too but not in a defensive stance. More like a curious one.

The tan shorts he was wearing were long and just about touching the top of his knees, his navy T-shirt had Cooke Landscaping in the right-hand corner and it was fitted to his body. She didn’t think he did that on purpose as much as he was in really good shape.

Her eyes moved down and his feet were bare. It was his house, it was summer. Why not?

Only it gave her ideas she didn’t like having in her head when she was trying to take this slow.

“Because I keep waiting to try to figure out the next step.”

He laughed. “Come here,” he said.

“What?”

“Come here,” he said again. “You’re nervous because you’re attracted to me. You’re waiting for me to make a move. Or I’m waiting for you to make one. We aren’t going to end up in bed. Even if you ask me, I’m going to say no. You might need to woo me now.”

She burst out laughing but went into his arms.

“I’m pretty positive if I asked you’d say yes.”

“Duh,” he said, “but you’re not going to ask and I’m going to tell you not to.”

He understood that about her. “Then why am I in your arms?”

“So that I can kiss you. Or you can kiss me. Maybe we say we kissed each other. I think you’ll relax more once you do that. Could be you can’t remember if I’m a good kisser or not and you’re nervous there too.”

“You’re a good kisser,” she said. “I remember that.”

Along with everything else that happened that night.

“You’re a fabulous kisser,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers.

Her arms went up around his neck and she let herself be taken over by her emotions again and told herself that it’d stop with a kiss.

Two hours later, it’d stopped after a lot of kissing but nothing more.

She’d stayed true to her word that she wouldn’t ask him, and then he wouldn’t have to say yes.

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