Page 25 of Gideon's Gratitude

And yet, there was more. A vulnerability. The man last night had been desperate. Needing assistance. Today the veneer of perfection was back. Except the man had cared for me while I was ill. No one had cared for me in a very long time. “Well, there’s Stavros’s if you want fancier. A&W if you want fast food. Fifties if you want something in between.”

“Fifties?”

“It’s a diner on the highway. The food is amazing, but the vibe is casual. No one cares what you’re wearing.”

“You like the place.” A statement, not a question.

And on the nose.

“I do. I used to go there with my grandparents. They have the most amazing milkshakes.”

What are you, twelve?

Shut it.

I could enjoy a milkshake. They settled my stomach.

Archer sat up, clicking the recliner back into place. “That sounds perfect.” He eyed the dog. “I presume he requires a leash. Do I, uh, need to scoop?”

I chuckled. “No, he’ll go into the bushes. He likes his privacy.” Unsteadily, I rose. My back ached and I should’ve gone to bed earlier, but the trek upstairs had been too much to contemplate. I’d regret that decision later. “The extended leash is by the back door.”

“Yes, I used it earlier.” He looked at the dog. “Walk?”

Lucky gazed at me.

“It’s fine. You go ahead.”

The dog huffed, glanced at Archer, and headed to the door.

Just before he moved away, my guest hesitated. “Will you be all right?”

Emotion, strong and sure, pricked me. Again, no one had asked me that in a very long time. “I will, thank you. Quick shower and I’ll be down in no time.”

After a moment, he nodded and headed for the door. He put on his shoes, grabbed the extended leash, and hooked it to Lucky’s collar. Both he and the dog gave me one final look before heading out.

Calculating I had about twenty minutes, I returned the ice pack to the freezer and headed upstairs. I stripped in my bedroom and grabbed my robe from the hook behind my door. I set the temperature of the shower to lukewarm until my body adjusted. Slowly I increased the heat. Eventually I turned my back to the spray and allowed the water to pound my tense neck and back muscles. I lathered up my plain soap and scrubbed my body as best I could. I used to love strong-scented products, but these days those were likely to trigger a headache. Sticking to plain worked. Sticking to uncomplicated worked. Sticking to simple worked.

Going out to dinner was sonotsimple.

If I kept reminding myself it wasn’t a date, I’d be fine.

After doing a few gentle stretches, I exited the shower. I was, in truth, a simple man. A guy who showered after my workday. A man who put in an honest day’s labor in exchange for a decent paycheck. I’d been the provider in our family for years, and I’d been happy to do it.

Snap out of it.

Going down that path right now was dangerous. As I selected a clean shirt and jeans, I eyed the photo frame I’d lowered face down. I was due to call the kids tomorrow. I loved and hated those calls. Hearing my children, usually happy, tore away at my soul. Knowing I’d let them down broke my spirit. Believing they were better off without me left devastation in its wake.

I dried my hair and brushed it into submission. Another visit to the barber was in order. Shaving it all off was always under serious consideration. No visits into town. No money wasted. I supposed I could grow it long, but I’d been raised to believe that made me look like a girl.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Archer’s blond hair was longer, and he looked roguish. Distinguished. Handsome. I’d be a fool not to notice the man’s appearance. And although the guy likely played on it when around women, he didn’t with me. He just was who he was. High class, expensive, and out of a simple man’s league.

I brushed my teeth and did one final check in the mirror. Acceptable. Not great, but respectable. Certainly no one at Fifties was going to care. So I shouldn’t either.

Except I did. I wanted to make a good impression. My overreaction this morning still galled me. Just because the man was a divorcelawyer—and rich to boot—didn’t mean he was a bad guy. Didn’t mean he didn’t have good qualities. He might volunteer at a homeless shelter. He might foster kittens. He might tutor failing law students. Hell, he probably donated money to charities. Attended those highfalutin functions where everyone dressed up. Put on their Sunday best.

Somewhere a longshoreman would never be seen.

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