Page 11 of Snowflakes and Sparks

The silence between us came to an abrupt halt when he broke out in hysterical laughter. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to put his hand to the wall to keep his balance.

Okay, so I guessed I was totally wrong about him. Somehow, my vivid imagination always got the best of me. It was one of the reasons Dean kept telling me to write a book.

“You… think… I’m a… a…” He tried to get the words out between each laugh. “A gigolo?”

I couldn’t help but laugh myself. “I take it you aren’t then?”

“Hell, no. I’m a yoga teacher,” he said.

“Alex!” Diane’s voice was barely audible over Alex’s laughter.

“You were right about one thing, though. Diane does need our help. Can you get an icepack from the freezer while I grab a stack of clean towels? I’ll be right there.”

I scurried into the kitchen, located the ice pack and continued my way toward the living room, where I witnessed a sight that was sure to be imprinted in my brain forever.

Diane was on the floor, dressed head to toe in a hot-pink lycra bodysuit. A yellow sweatband held her hair back and her wrists were adorned with matching sweatbands. Her feet were entangled in Christmas lighting and she had blood on her left elbow and both her hands. To top it off she was surrounded by broken baubles. How on earth had she managed to get into that position?

“You. I keep seeing you everywhere. Don’t think I don’t have my eyes on you, missy.”

Missy?

“This is only the third time we’ve run into each other, Diane. If you must know, I’m here to help you. Where do you want this ice pack?”

She pointed to her leg. “I don’t like this. You’ve ruined Alex once. Why are you trying to do it again? He’s been through enough already.”

“Honestly, Diane, as I told you before, I’m not here to ruin anything. Or anyone.”

She snorted. “Sure.”

“How’s it going in here, ladies?” Alex asked, holding a stack of towels.

“Fine,” we answered simultaneously. We sounded like two bickering teenagers, although I couldn’t fathom what I’d ever done to upset Diane. It wasn’t like she was Alex’s mother.

“I got you some towels to stop the bleeding. The ambulance should be here any minute now.”

“They’re here,” I said, pointing outside.

Two paramedics hurried toward the house and Alex opened the door for them. They carried a stretcher inside and started to examine Diane, who groaned and sighed with every movement.

“I think you’ve broken your hip,” one of the paramedics told Diane.

Alex led me out of earshot of the others. “I’m going to drive down to the hospital so that I can be there for Diane. At least until I can reach one of her relatives. We should catch up later though and talk.”

I nodded. “Definitely. I’m curious to hear how Diane managed to get herself into a position like that.”

Alex smiled and gently touched my arm, sending my stomach into a joyful flurry. “I meant that it would be nice to get to know each other better. Or should I say, again? Ten years is a long time. Plus, I don’t want you spreading rumors about me and my so-called pimp activities. How about we grab a bite to eat tomorrow night and I’ll make sure you have all the correct information there is to know about me?”

“I would love that,” I said.

As the paramedics and Alex headed out the door, an exhilarating buzz coursed through my body. Alex wanted to get to know me better and have dinner with me. And he wasn’t a gigolo. This was turning out to be a great day after all.

Chapter Five

Bells jangled as Alex pushed the door to Dave’s Diner open. The smell of onions, fries and bacon wafted toward us and I realized I was majorly overdressed for this place. I didn’t know why I hadn’t opted for something plain and simple that didn’t scream City Girl. Instead I’d chosen an A-line wool dress with black pumps that had little bows on the back. I’d even curled my hair and put it casually up with hairpins. Clearly, my brain must’ve heard Alex say we would have dinner at the Ritz when he asked me to grab a bite with him at the local diner.

We slid into a booth and took our coats off. Alex was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, the slate grey sleeves rolled up to his elbows and accentuating his biceps. I didn’t mean to look at his body all the time, but it was kind of hard to miss.

His eyes rested on me for a couple of seconds before grabbing the menus that were shoved between a wad of clean napkins in a snow-globe-shaped holder.

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