Page 17 of Chasing Dreams
“I value my privacy. He knows that.”
She didn’t know what to say. She’d invaded his solitude and, considering that, he’d treated her quite decently. She ate, wondering what had made him draw into himself and avoid people.
She had to change his mind about working with her, but she had to go about it delicately. He wanted to show her how to turn off her dreams. Her hope was that in the process, he’d change his mind—or that she’d learn what she needed, in spite of him.
“I don’t want to be in your way,” she began. “And I know you’re a busy man. But how long do you think it will take to teach me?”
He finished his breakfast and pushed the plate back with a thumb. Placing both elbows on the table, he looked at her over his laced knuckles. “It’s not something you can plan out, like a drive to Miami. There’s no scale to work by, no directions or blueprint. We’ll just have to see what happens.”
He held her gaze.
“Okay,” she said finally.
“I have a job to finish up today. Let me get the work finished, and then we’ll get to it.”
“I know I’m an imposition, but...”
“But?”
“But I want to learn whatever you’ll teach me, as soon as I can. I need to make you understand how urgent it is for me to find my nephew.”
“We’ll work together this evening,” he said.
“Okay.”
“There’s a television downstairs. There are weights...a treadmill...”
“I’ll take care of my things, dry out the tent.”
He nodded and headed for his office.
Meanwhile, Shaine finished assembling the tent so it could dry in the sun, then borrowed towels from his bathroom and dried out her pathetic assortment of camping equipment. She washed and dried the towels, hoping not to irritate him with disorder to his home.
By afternoon the sun grew blissfully warm. She pulled one of the wooden chairs into its heat and sat dozing, the melting rays soaking through her clothing and skin.
Later, she went in, acquainted herself with the downstairs and tested Austin’s treadmill and weights. She quickly decided exercising was way too much work, flipped on the wide-screen TV and channel-surfed for an hour or so, until she figured she could go up and find something to fix for dinner.
Just as she headed up the stairs, his running shoes and muscular legs appeared, coming down. A sweatshirt with the neck and sleeves cut out revealed his broad chest, shoulders and well-defined biceps. Slowing down as he got closer, his face came into view.
“I—uh—was just going up to start some dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do you mind? You do eat, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I eat. I’ll be down here for about an hour. After that I run and shower.”
She moved to the right in the stairwell and turned sideways, allowing him to pass. From above, his shoulders appeared even wider. “I’ll find something that takes a while to fix then.”
He slid open a cabinet housing a stereo system, and vintage rock filled the room. Self-consciously she hurried up the stairs.
For someone who claimed to eat whatever was easy, his kitchen was well stocked. Humming along with the Van Halen, Guns ’N Roses, and Aerosmith, she scrubbed potatoes and thawed steaks. Daisy kept her company. The music stopped. Daisy’s nails scrambled on the kitchen floor, and the dog shot toward the front door. Shaine looked up in time to see Austin head outside.
Supper was nearly ready when he returned, his hair and shirt damp with sweat like they’d been the day before.
Austin paused awkwardly on his way to the shower. The appealing smells of food cooking had hit him as soon as he’d reached the porch. So foreign. So unexpected and out of his realm of experience. Like the woman standing in his kitchen. His stomach growled.
She looked up from behind the counter that divided the room, and smiled, an uncertain little lift of her lips that changed the focus of his appetite. Her smile was disturbing. He wondered if she knew that. Her soft-looking hair and skin, her slim shape. He frowned to himself. “I bagged up your tent and stuff and stored them in my garage.”
