Page 24 of Sugar Pie
Kerry
Warren had seemed desperate to leave the thrift store. He seemed personally offended that I’d used the small amount of money I had to get seven shirts and four pairs of pants. I’d needed clothes, though, and seven shirts meant I had a new shirt for every day of the week and would only need to do laundry once.
Thrifting to me was like diving into the unknown to unlock unique items that no one else might ever find. Granted, I’d never mentioned the adventures to my parents or Romeo. Warren might have been different, but he clearly thought new was best, as my mother had always said.
Either way, I stayed under twenty-five dollars, minus the shirt he’d bought me.
We headed to Walmart, and I grabbed a bag of underwear with ten cotton bikinis so I would never have to hand-wring cleanliness.
As we left the second store, I patted his back and said, “Thank you for taking me. I can’t wait to do laundry now.”
He opened the door for me and said, “Sounds like a plan. I was thinking we could go horseback riding.”
A fun evening with Warren sounded exciting, and my heart skipped a beat. For a second, I imagined racing him, laughing, and then kissing. As he opened his door and scooted in, I pressed my hand to my belly. “Sounds fun, but I’m hungry, to be honest. I worked all morning and now shopping.”
He nodded. “Me too. Let’s go out to dinner. My treat.”
For a second, I cringed. I wasn’t his to take care of, but my new money was from our deal.
However, a night out sounded nice, and we could make the tacos the next day. So I put my seat belt on and said, “That sounds like fun. We can celebrate how working together is good for both of us.”
He drove across the lot to an Italian restaurant. He parked and said, “You’re helping me out.”
We headed inside, and a hostess showed us to a table.
He was polite with every staff person he saw and not pretentious at all.
I hoped he would never change. We ordered, and I picked the chicken parmesan. I normally didn’t fry my food, so it was a treat. Once we were alone, I folded my hands on the table and said, “We’ll consider this a business meeting.”
“Not everything is about work.”
The gleam in his gaze made me ache for his touch. “Okay, friendship.”
He winked. “To new beginnings.”
I leaned close as if sharing a secret, ignoring the thrill that raced through me from his nearness. “I have to say I do enjoy cooking, though. It’s been the only constant in my life where I feel in control.”
“And I like eating what you offer.”
Flirting was bad for business for both of us. I pursed my lips. “Still, we shouldn’t indulge when we’re on a budget.”
He blinked but then leaned on the table. “We can celebrate where someone else takes care of us while we talk.”
My lips curved higher, and I raised my hand to give a scout’s honor. “I’m not complaining.”
He took a deep breath as if he’d been holding it. “Good. So what do you like about cooking so much?”
The waitress returned with our meals, but my heart beat faster. I wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked me. And it was strange because Warren shouldn’t have been the one full of manners and breeding.
Once we were alone, he said, “Go on.”
I picked up my fork and checked that the meat was tender. “Well, I found in school that it was easier to make friends if I could offer people cupcakes and brownies. From there, I realized my parents even spoke to me with more kindness and less criticizing if they enjoyed a meal I made.”
We ate in silence. I felt sensitive all over, as if I was covered in goose bumps. I wasn’t sure I’d ever spoken like that to anyone. As we finished, he said almost in a whisper, “That must have been very lonely.”
The intimacy shocked me. I hugged my waist and said, “It wasn’t all that bad. I had a lot of time to study.”
The waitress brought the check, and he put cash on the table. We stood together and he said, “It’s hard to imagine a quiet childhood. My family talked all the time.”
