Page 45 of Tabitha

He takes one look at me, then seems to come to some sort of decision. With a sigh, he places his hands on his hips. “He’s being a gentleman. Men are supposed to lift heavy boxes for the fairer sex.”

I can only blink, not sure I understand the notion. “Why?”

He purses his lips, his eyes narrowing, then continues almost reluctantly. “It’s a sign of respect. The more a man likes a woman, the more he tries to impress her, which means being a gentleman.”

My mind completely blanks, and I turn, gazing blindly at the empty doorway. “He likes me?”

That’s a foreign concept to me.

Most people find me…difficult, and I suddenly feel vulnerable and uncertain.

And much to my surprise, I don’t hate the idea of someone actually paying attention to me in the romantic sense. My heart flutters with a mixture of emotions I can’t possibly name—fear, hope, nerves, and a kaleidoscope more. It’s so much that nausea churns in my gut, and I stamp it down to deal with later.

I grab one of the many boxes near the door and follow Bast, unable to fight the urge to test Gage’s theory.

Just as I’m about to enter the shipping container, Bast steps directly in my path. Before I can shuffle out of the way, he snatches the box from my arms. “Allow me.”

At the deep rasp of his voice, warmth fills my cheeks. Bast doesn’t smile, just tips his head in a way that has my heart fluttering again, like a hummingbird is trapped inside. Before I can decide how to react, he turns and disappears back inside the shipping container.

“How’s the moving going?”

I whirl, more than a little annoyed to see Banks standing a few feet away. Worse, I didn’t even hear him approach. He has his hands in his pockets, but I don’t miss the way he stares after Bast with eyes so dead that I wonder if he even has a pulse.

Something about it raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

I step protectively in front of the door, then mentally roll my eyes for acting so irrationally. “Moving is boring. It’s going to take weeks to go through all the crap Buford collected.”

A startled laugh rocks him back on his heels, the coldness leaving his expression as he turns his attention toward me. He cocks his head to the side and muses, “You’re not what I was expecting.”

He almost seems admiring, and shock reverberates through me. I’m not even sure how to react, so I go for blunt. “What do you mean?”

“Old Buford bragged about you, said you were special. I thought he was being a doting grandfather, but I’m beginning to see that I was wrong.” He rocks back on his heels again and flashes me a smile. “Would you like to get coffee with me?”

About as much as I want to be tortured—torture actually sounds like more fun—but I can’t pass up the opportunity to learn more about his operation. So I smile and shrug. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

He casts me a curious look, amusement flickering across his face, and I mentally curse, clearing my expression. I totally need to work on smiling in the mirror so it comes more naturally.

“They have a nice café in town.” Banks strolls toward me, and I fall into step next to him as we head for his car.

“Tabitha?” Bast exits the shipping container, never taking his eyes from me.

“Oh, ummm.” I stop dead, flustered at having forgotten him, and turn to glance at him. “I’m just going to get some coffee. I’ll be back in an hour.”

His attention shifts to something over my shoulder. Though he doesn’t react, I can tell something’s wrong.

That he’s not happy.

I almost feel proud I’m able to figure it out.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Bast nods his head and dusts off his hands. “I’ll go wash up. We can all use a break. How about we follow you to town and get some lunch?”

He’s asking me the question, but I don’t get the impression that he’s seeking permission.

After a few seconds of trying to figure out why he would be upset, I give up. “Sounds good.”

I turn away and head toward the waiting car. Banks trails after me, then quickens his pace. Before I can reach for the door, he opens it and stands back. The driver’s door. I don’t move, just cock my head and stare at him in confusion. “Did you want me to drive?”

Because there is no way that Banks opened the door to be a gentleman.

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