Page 86 of Brew
I tremble with laughter. “What I meant to say was, you’ve done a really good job. Everything is exactly how I pictured it. You have a gift for aesthetics.”
“I can’t take all the heat. Deanna helped, in fact, she did most of the decorating.”
I wonder how many women he’s brought up to his apartment. Okay, not a great time to start thinking like that, but that is how my mind works. I never used to be a jealous person, but that all changed when I met him.
“It’s cozy,” I add.
“Is that code for somethin’?”
“Nope. It’s warm, like you.”
He snorts. “You’re the first person to tell me that I’m warm.”
“Now that I don’t believe.” I give him a cheeky smile.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“A cup of tea would be nice.”
He walks over to the kitchen, fills up the kettle and flicks it on. I never in a million years imagined that a man like him would be making me a cup of tea, but watching him puttering around the kitchen is sexy. He’s unassuming, and not even aware I’m checking him out. I wonder if he knows how to cook.
“Show me the letter.” They’re not demanding words, but he wants to see it.
“Just don’t blow a gasket,” I warn. “And before you ask, no, I do not have anything inside me left to give to that man.”
“Even forgiveness?” He knows how I work; letting bygones be bygones and all of that, but this is different.
“It’s not very Christian of me, but how can I?”
“You don’t have to do shit,” he says. “Some people just don’t deserve it.”
I level him with my gaze as he places his hands on the counter, palms down, and his eyes lift. “Do you forgive easily?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Do you forgive at all?”
He shrugs. “Depends on what it is. I don’t do lyin’ or cheatin’, and if I’m gonna forgive someone, it better be for a damn good reason.”
“That’s fair.”
His jaw ticks when he adds, “Some people don’t deserve forgiveness.”
“Don’t you worry all that rage will eat you up inside?” I ask. “It can’t be good for you.”
“It’s served me just fine all these years. Those men knew what they were doin’.”
“That’s very true.” I fold my arms over my chest, hugging myself. “And you’re entitled to feel that way, but you also have to ask yourself if you’re happy.”
“I’m not unhappy, that’s kinda the same thing.”
I shake my head. “Not even close.”
He clears his throat and I know he’s changing the subject, something he’s perfected. “I’ve been thinkin’ about what we did.” I must look confused, because he adds, “at the gun range.”
Please, cheeks, don’t heat…
“Did you come up with any conclusions?” I raise a brow, trying not to let myself think about all of that.
