Page 35 of The Ruse of Romancing
“How do you feel about wandering town? Maybe do some shopping?” I knew it wasn’t exactly the kind of activity most men dreamed of, but hopefully Allen wouldn’t mind.
“Sounds perfect.”
Chapter 19
Mason
IshouldreleaseDani’shand. Professional colleagues and friends did not hold hands. I should put distance between us, recenter this day on my actual goal: connecting with her publisher to further my career.
But even as the thoughts played through my mind, I pushed them away. I’d lost track of the last time I’d just held hands with a woman, no agenda, no expectations, just simple, casual contact. And it felt... nice.
I’d been surprised when her fingers intertwined with mine. She hadn’t struck me as the bold type, yet the contact sent electricity zipping up my arm and sending my heart hammering as I caught a whiff of her strawberry shampoo as she tugged me toward a store that clearly catered to tourists.
“I need a new sweatshirt,” Dani explained as she gestured to a few hoodies hanging in the window.
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of a woman and a new sweatshirt,” I said, pulling open the door and waving her inside.
The bell over the door rang, signaling our entrance to whoever was working the small store. They were nowhere in sight initially, most likely working in the back or tucked in a corner somewhere restocking merchandise.
Dani led the way to a rack of pastel pink, blue, and green sweatshirts with the wordsDreaming of the OregonCoastemblazoned across the front. She released my hand as she thumbed through the options, her lips puckering and her face pinched in concentration. I instantly missed the contact and wanted to reach for her hand again, but I hesitated. I wasn’t a hand holding kind of guy. It was one thing for Dani to reach out for me. It was something else entirely if I instigated things. I didn’t want to send the wrong impression, though I had a feeling I was already doing that.
“I can’t decide!” Dani exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration after a few minutes combing through multiple racks, feeling the different sweatshirts and commenting on their colors. “They’re all so cute. But I don’t need five new sweatshirts.”
“Do you have a favorite color?” I asked, reaching forward to finger a green sweatshirt that would look good with her skin tone. I wanted to reach for my tablet, try my hand at capturing the colors and textures of this moment.
“Usually blue,” she said, waving vaguely down at the blue t-shirt she was wearing, “but I own alotof blue. Maybe I need to switch things up.”
She bit her lip, considering her options a bit longer before pulling a yellow sweatshirt and a gray sweatshirt off the rack. The yellow one had a picture of a sunset on it while the gray one sported an image of bigfoot tromping through the woods.
“Which would you pick?”
“Oh no,” I said, taking a small step back with a laugh. “I’m a graphic designer, not a fashion expert. I don’t do clothing choices for anyone but me.”
Dani lowered the two sweatshirt options, seeming to consider me for a moment. “I didn’t know you were a graphic designer. You’ve been so busy asking about my career, I didn’t realize I never asked you what you do.”
I shrugged, trying for nonchalance now that the cat was out of the bag. This was my chance to start paving the way for conversations about cover designs and connecting with her publisher. And yet, I hesitated. Despite my initial plans in inviting her to the cheese factory, I didn’t want today to devolve into shop talk. We’d spent most of the drive here talking about her job and I’d loved watching her light up as she talked about her passion. I wasn’t ready to shift the focus to me just yet.
That thought went against my every motivation in getting to know Dani, a fact I chose to ignore for now.
“I was enjoying listening to you talking about the publishing world.”
She clutched the two sweatshirts close, looking embarrassed as color crept into her cheeks.
“You must think I’m incredibly vain or terrible company. We’ve spent almost this whole day talking about me. And—”
“Hey,” I took the sweatshirts from her, carefully returning them to the rack before grabbing both of her hands. “I’ve loved getting to know you, so much so that I agreed to spend the day shopping with you because I wanted to keep talking to you. Trust me, if I wasn’t enjoying myself, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Promise?” She asked looking at me so intently I would have said almost anything to reassure her.
“Promise,” I said, my thumb tracing over the bracelet on her wrist. Based on what I’d seen her wear, the colored stones didn’t seem her style, and yet I found their smooth, cool texturealmost soothing. “Now how about we go back to expanding your sweatshirt collection?”
“On one condition,” she said, releasing one of my hands and turning back to one of the clothing racks, my other hand still clutched in hers. I didn’t want her to let go.
“What’s that?” I asked, curious to hear her stipulation. I liked to think I was an expert on women, but something about Dani kept me guessing.
“You tell me more about you. Your art and your family and your interests. I want to hear all about what makes Allen Bradley tick.” The coy look she gave me over her shoulder sent my heart racing.
“I could do that,” I said. This was exactly what I’d been hoping and working for, and I should be ecstatic that my plan was going so perfectly. So why did my stomach twist with guilt as she gave me the perfect opening to talk about my career and my hope of designing book covers?
