Page 17 of Geordie

He animates when he talks about his work and, somehow, seeing that light in his eyes makes me happy. The feeling lasts a few seconds until I have a pang of guilt that I’m doing something wrong being here with Geordie. Confusion makes me turn back to the stove.

I was with Stephen for years, this feels like cheating, but then I remind myself I broke it off. There’s no reason I shouldn’t talk to an interesting man. He’s a little more domineering for my taste; he hides it under that affable manner. This is temporary. I’m not interested in lost causes… or any causes at all.

I feel his gaze on me, which forces me to face him. “The meal is ready,” I say. “I’ll leave you to your dinner. I’m sure you want to relax after a stint in the hospital.”

There’s disappointment in his eyes at the suggestion of my leaving. I hope he didn’t think I was volunteering to be his live-in servant.

He pushes away his drink, folding those arms that still mesmerize me. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay for dinner; I’m enjoying our conversation. No one had the time for a blether at the hospital. I’m starving for a good meal and good company.”

He must have gone through a lot in the last few days to ask this of a stranger. I can’t remember when I spent the evening getting to know someone. Why not? This has been a day of surprises. The crew at Dalliance can manage without me for one night. There’s no one waiting for me at home. I smile, and a hopeful grin splits his lips.

“I’d like that,” I reply. “I’ll fix you a plate.”

Chapter nine

Pigheaded Bastard

Geordie

ThememoryofLily’svisit lingers as I wake in my bed alone; her staying with me was never the plan. Why would she? Lily only agreed to give me a lift and settle me into my apartment. That was the promise. Having dinner with me was a bonus.

The reminders of what the ER doctor called my misadventures are close by. Crutches resting against the wall, my walking boot next to a chair, and the pain in my leg are annoying companions.

Lily’s visit was not what I expected. Seeing her was more enjoyable than awkward. The tilt of her chin and the narrowing of her eyes when I said something she didn’t quite agree with, to the lilt of her laugher at my pointless storytelling. It was more fun than I’d had in a long time, but it was odd she never mentioned a husband. I never expected her to talk about something as personal as difficulty conceiving; we just met, but why keep her immediate family a secret?

I’d watched her follow my directions for making the mince and tatties. She was a whirlwind in the kitchen with the way she put together the meal. It tasted better by her hand; you could tell she’d had professional training.

We talked well after dinner was finished, unaware of the time, until Lily began to yawn. I wasn’t able to drive her home myself, so I offered to call her a ride share. She said she lived a few blocks away on Westmont Court. I asked Lily to call when she got home to let me know she was safe. She tried to brush it off as something unimportant. I warned her if I didn’t hear from her, she’d find me on her doorstep. I’d walk up and down shouting her name until one of her neighbors called the police. After her kindness, how could I let anything happen to her?

When I came into the kitchen in the morning, my porridge was ready in the slow cooker. She’d told me before leaving that it would cook all night and be ready to eat when I woke up. I was skeptical, watching her set up an appliance I’d never used, but the breakfast was hot and ready, as she’d promised.

There was a surprise for me when I opened the refrigerator for my cream. She’d placed wee dishes of items for me to supplement my morning oats. Butter, cinnamon, brown sugar, raisins, chopped dried apricots, and walnuts were placed in separate wee dishes with a note that said, ‘Here are other items you can add to your oats that might be interesting.’ I scooped up a bowl, splashed cream onto the porridge, and ate. Maybe tomorrow I’ll experiment.

After I dress for work, I call a rideshare to drive me to the winery.

The crutches don’t feel strong enough to hold my weight, but I amble on the sticks with my ankle in a gray walking boot, heading for my office. I walk by Layla’s office, hoping she’s on the phone or too busy to notice me, but she’s out of her door like a shot.

“Geordie, when you told me over the phone you were taking a couple of days off, I thought you were having a brief vacation,” she says, keeping up with me.

“Aye, I planned to have time off,” rounding the corner. It’s damn awkward managing with these sticks. She goes on, not letting this subject go.

“When you called yesterday to confess that you were in a dirt bike accident, in the hospital with minor injuries, I didn’t envision this.”

I push through my door, grateful to have an end to this moving like a pegged-leg pirate. Layla shuts the door. “We could have arranged for someone to pick you up. It can’t be easy on your own in your apartment. Would you like me to arrange for a cleaner and temporary help? Like a nurse or caregiver?”

“Thank you for your help, but I’ll be fine in a few days. This is only a sprain.” An unintentional wince passes over my face. She looks at me dubiously. I thought the lie was convincing. Nevertheless, that’s the story I’ve rehearsed, and it’s the one I’m giving out when asked about my condition.

Once I’m seated in my chair, I sigh with the effort. She pulls another chair over for me to elevate my ankle. I thank her and rest the crutches nearby, unstrap the boot, and gratefully stretch my leg out onto the chair. I glance over at Layla, “What did I miss?” I ask, to put an end to this mothering.

Layla straightens a bit, and a thin frown forms on her lips. She still wants to talk about my condition, but she forces herself to answer instead. “Not a lot. Whenever we needed a decision on a concern, Connell handled it. I know he’s eager to have a meeting to bring you up to date. He’s out with the vines right now. I can let him know you’ve arrived?”

I glance out at a section of vines through the office window. This time of year, he’ll be on the other side of the hill working. “I’ll let him know myself when I’ve settled in. Anything else?”

She takes her time to remove her glasses, then drops them in her pocket. “Lochlan called. I told him about your accident. Apparently, you didn’t bother to call him about your hospital stay.”

She was worried. I can’t fault her for trying to help, but now I have to deal with an annoyed Lochlan. No matter, it’s not the first time I’ve had a wee disagreement with him.

“It was a mistake on my part to assume,” she admits, “but I actually thought you would have told your cousin.”

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