I decided after her disappearing act yesterday afternoon that I might as wel pul out the big guns, because God knows I’ve got nothing to lose. Four days from now wil be the last I see of her; I can’t imagine our paths ever intersecting again. “Since you’l be busy then with packing and last-minute stuff, let me take you to dinner tonight instead. To thank you for being such a patient overseer.” Dori is one of the smartest girls I’ve ever met, so I know she’l see through the fact that I’m acting as if we’ve already got a date for next week and I’m just repositioning it to be more convenient. She’s not going to fal for it, but I’m not sure if she’l cal me on it.
She hides behind her hand momentarily, closing her eyes to draw that too-short strand of hair off of her face and tuck it behind her ear. She takes a soft breath before speaking. “I can’t go to dinner with you.” Ah—the simple, no-explanation approach.
Nope. She’s not getting off that easily.
“Why not?”
“My VBS kids have a rehearsal tonight.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
She fidgets with her cup lid. “The program is tomorrow night.”
I take a sip of coffee, stal ing. These are legitimate excuses. Does she expect me to continue asking? I never ask twice, let alone three times.
“Sunday night?”
“Church.”
Strike three. I can’t help it—I start laughing and she purses her lips and frowns stonily. I tap my chin. “Let me guess. Monday night your friends are seeing you off, and Tuesday, your family has something planned.” She scrapes the cup lid, not meeting my amused gaze.
Which is just as wel , because I’m feeling as frustrated as I am amused, and I’m not sure how wel my blasé guise is holding up. “Wednesday,” she says, glancing up. “The family thing is on Wednesday.”
Some teasing comment is at the tip of my tongue, but that’s not what emerges. “So you’re free Tuesday.” She sucks a little air through parted lips. Probably expecting the teasing comment. “Theoretical y.”
“Is that a yes?”
Her chest is rising and fal ing shal owly, because she’s al owed me to work her right into a corner and we both know it. She’s going to bolt anyway. I see it in her eyes as her brain casts around for a way out of it.
“Dori,” my voice is low, calming, “it’s just dinner, and then you’re off to your life and I’m soon off to mine. Unless you want me to believe that teaching me to paint wal s and instal shelves was oh-so-easy on you.” I smile my most disarming, innocuous smile. “I’ve been a splinter in your pinky for three weeks. C’mon. Make me pay for it.” I want to touch her, my fingers curling inside the pocket of my jeans, but I don’t dare.
When she nods, it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to pump a fist in the air and say hell yeah. “Okay,” she says, eyeing me. “Just dinner.”
“Dinner. Tuesday. Good.” I pul my phone from my pocket and get her number and address before she changes her mind, and then I tap the lid of my cup against hers before I go outside. “Later, boss.”
*** *** ***
Dori
What. Have. I. Done.
Chapter 28
REID
In the interest of giving Dori less opportunity to back out on tonight, I’ve kept my distance for the past few days. I ate lunch with Frank on Friday and Gabriel e yesterday, while continuing the morning latte delivery, timed for when Dori was occupied with something or someone that distracted her from speaking to me alone.
Now it’s Tuesday morning, and it’s clear she’s confused.
This is a perfect execution of my usual game plan: a shifting pattern of advance and retreat, sidestepping any resistance until I get what I want. That’s the problem, though
—I stil don’t know what I want beyond a repeat of that kiss, and I seriously doubt any more than that would be possible.
Maybe Tadd was right, and the mere chal enge of her is the thing that’s messing with my head. There’s something uncontaminated about her, and I don’t even mean sexual y or whatever. I mean the way she is, at her core. Like when you wake up and the world has been blanketed by snow overnight, and not a single footstep or tire track has spoiled the untouched perfection of it.
Do I want to be that bastard kid who clomps al over the Do I want to be that bastard kid who clomps al over the yard, just because?
When I arrive, I find Dori easily by her familiar very-patient voice as she demonstrates to Gabriel e how to apply stenciled patterns to her pink wal . “Once you have the stencil secure, dab this domed brush into the paint, and then onto the wal . But make sure you don’t get too much, or it’l drip.”
“Like this?” Gabriel e asks, and Dori nods, watching her.
“Perfect.”
I haven’t spoken or made a sound, but Dori turns slowly, as though I whispered her name. A smal crease appears between her brows as she watches me cross the room.
Gabriel e turns then, too, skipping up to meet me halfway and bouncing as she pul s up in front of me, hands clasped.
“Oooh, is the one with whipped cream for me?”
“Of course. Maybe al that sugar wil make you sweeter.” She rol s her eyes and giggles, forever unoffended by anything I say to her.
Dori seems so reserved in contrast, and I smile down at her as she murmurs her thanks and takes her cup. She forgets to avoid the slide of my fingers against hers… or she chooses not to avoid it. “You’re welcome,” I say in return.
I’m halfway down the hal when I hear Dori say my name.