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* * *
It was late October when I started my job. It was the perfect fit for me. My manager and I got along amazingly well, and he kept pushing me to do more. I gladly took on the extra responsibility and seemed to thrive on it.
Lisbeth called me one night and asked if I could take her to a party on the following Saturday. It was the end of November, and she said it was one of those tea party things, the kind that she really hated. She didn’t want to stay long and asked me to drive her and wait in the car.
I sat in Lisbeth’s Cadillac, in front of one of Charleston’s finest homes on the Battery and was reading a book on my Kindle when I heard a tap at my window. I looked up and my heart immediately started doing laps like a race car around a motor speedway. Why in the world did he have to look this yummy?
I rolled down the window. “Hey,” I said. Why did my voice have to sound this breathy?
“Hey yourself. Are you here with Lisbeth?”
“Yeah. You?”
“My grandmother asked me to bring her. Although I can’t figure out why when we only … oh no. I think I smell a rat.” He lifted his head up and sighed.
“What?”
“Grams and Lisbeth. Scheming.”
My face started to burn. Really burn. Then the rest of me followed.
“Look, do you mind if I get in?”
“Er, no.” Dear God help me. I need strength around this man.
He jogged around to the other side of the car and got in. Then he grinned. And I melted.
“I think they’ve been scheming to get us together.”
I dropped my head down and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I never called you. You were the best, really. I should have thanked you with dinner or something. That was totally rude of me. Please forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven on one condition. Go to dinner with me.”
“I suppose it would be impossible to refuse you now,” I admitted. It would have been beyond rude at this point.
“Okay, when?”
“Next weekend?”
“That works for me. How are you? Everything okay?” His gaze penetrated mine and I shivered.
I half-smiled and said, “I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry, Alexia.”
* * *
The following weekend, he picked me up, on foot, and we walked to dinner.
“I hope you don’t mind this.” He aimed his fingers toward the ground.
“You mean walking?”
He nodded.
“No. I love to walk.”
I was so nervous that I rubbed my hands together and then over my thighs. I had to clasp them to stop. He noticed my fidgeting and stopped walking.
