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“Ruined.”
Amusement shot through him at her bluntness. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. Now tell me…” She scooped another piece, her tongue dabbing her bottom lip again. “Why coconut cream?”
He fought the pain and sorrow of the memory and zeroed in on the happy parts. “On my tenth birthday, my mom had been working two jobs, and even though she was exhausted, she wanted me to get me a cake and sing happy birthday. Except the bakery she went to didn’t have any cakes. They had bread, cookies, and pie. She said give me a pie then. But they only sold them by the slice.”
“Of course.”
“Somehow she managed to get the whole pie. After that, coconut cream became a tradition on my birthday. We’d go to the same bakery and get a slice every year.”
A tender look crossed Olivia’s soft features. “That’s really sweet.”
“What does your mom think of you coming here?”
He swallowed at the uncomfortable lump, pushing its way up his throat. “She passed away a few months ago.”
The roundness in Olivia’s cheeks deflated slightly. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” The stubborn lump resurfaced and he ran a hand over his face to conceal the battle of emotions he was fighting.
It’d been a few months since Mom had died, and he hadn’t talked about it. He couldn’t afford a proper funeral, and they didn’t know many people to begin with, so he had a private service for her with a few of her coworkers. That was the last time he spoke openly about her. But talking with Olivia now and sharing the good memories, it felt right. He didn’t want to just share the good, though; he wanted to share with her the sad parts of his life, too, and that scared him.
“I went to the bakery after she died.” He was quiet for a moment, remembering that sunny day. He’d been so mad the sun was out, but he knew it was Mom shining her light down on him. “The owner remembered me. Asked about my mom, and she told me that my mom didn’t have enough money for a whole pie that first year. But she’d seen how determined my mom was to get that pie, so she told her that since it was close to closing, all pies were half off. She said she wanted to offer it at no charge, but she didn’t think my mom would accept.”
“Would she have?”
“Not a chance in hell.” A laugh bubbled out of him, and it was a welcoming reaction compared to the ugly dry lump in his throat. It was nice having someone to talk to. He’d gone so long being alone, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to share the small joys of life with someone.
He finished off his slice and nodded to Olivia who was taking smaller and smaller bites. “What about you?”
She put her fork down and crossed her hands on the table. “What do you want to know?”
He had so many questions. Did she have a favorite spot to be kissed? Did she prefer to be in control or be controlled? Figuring it was too early into their first date to ask—not to mention it wasn’t even ten a.m. on Tuesday—he went with a more basic question. “Tell me about your parents.”
“You saw my dad the other night.”
It was dark, and he’d only seen his outline, but the fuzzy contraptions on his feet were not to be missed. “He has great taste in slippers.”
Olivia fell back in her chair. “My two-year-old niece got those for him as a Christmas gift. I can’t believe he actually wears them, especially since I bought him shearling lined suede slippers that cost five times what those ridiculous things cost.”
“The price of something shouldn’t make it better.”
She held her palms up like a scale and lifted her left hand higher. “Cheap synthetic material.” She raised her right hand and lowered the left. “Luxurious shearling and suede.”
Shane mimicked Olivia, holding up his left hand. “Or… no sentimental value.” He lifted his right hand higher. “Sentimental value.”
She finished off her last bite and closed her eyes for a moment. Her lips brushed against each other, and she sighed. “Last piece was just as good as the first.” Her long lashes fluttered open, and she rested her fork back on the table. “What was I talking about?”
“Your dad’s slippers.”
“Oh right. I forgot on purpose.” She winked, and though it was meant to be humorous, Shane found it enticingly erotic.
He cleared his throat, ignoring the pressure building beneath his shorts. “What does your dad do when he’s not standing on his doorstep in monster slippers?”
“He’s a history teacher at the middle school. My mom is also a teacher. Kindergarten.”
“Both parents are teachers. I’m surprised you’re not a teacher.” She was friendly with all the townspeople, and he was sure that charismatic charm would carry over to children.
