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“Micah Ruiz.”
They shook hands. As she felt the heat of his skin against hers, she was fairly sure she experienced a jolt all the way up to her elbow. A kind of tingly, zippy buzz that made her want to step a little closer to find out if he smelled as good as he looked.
Horrified by her wayward thoughts, she deliberately pulled her hand free and took a half step back.
“Is your room all right?” she asked, striving for what she hoped was a welcoming yet professional tone. “Do you need extra towels or anything?”
His dark eyebrows drew together just enough to make him look delightfully quizzical, yet thoughtful and incredibly handsome.
“Why would you ask that?”
“What? Oh.” She laughed. “Sorry. I’m the owner.”
“So you have access to the good stuff.”
She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I can, in fact, get you an extra bar of goat’s milk soap anytime you need one.”
“That’s a lot of power.”
“I try to use it wisely. As someone who gets to see the menus in advance of them being posted, I’ll tell you that tonight, the Snacks and Wine hour is not to be missed. We’re having fried mac and cheese bites, with a veggie plate because balance is important.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a fried mac and cheese bite.”
“Then you have to try one. Or twenty. They’re a little addictive. Of course, all the food we serve is amazing. I say that because Ursula is the best chef in the valley.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Ursula? Named after the Little Mermaid Ursula?”
“No, and please don’t mention that particular movie around her. She’s not happy being portrayed as a villain.” She paused. “Villainess. Anyway, come over to the main house between five and seven and you’ll be dazzled.”
“I thought it was snack and wine hour,” he said, his low voice teasing.
“Yes, there is that. You should come.” With me, as my date. We could get to know each other better and—
Dena shook off the thoughts. Later she would read one of her pregnancy books and find out if there was a mental component to the gestating process.
She gave Micah a quick wave before retreating. Once she was safely upstairs and in her apartment, she set down her handbag on the entry table and wondered why Micah hadn’t been one of the guys to show up on her dating app—back when she’d been doing the dating thing. She would have said yes to him in a heartbeat.
Of course, she was merely ordinary, and had he seen her picture as a possibility, he would have no doubt passed her by. Alas.
She lightly pressed her hand to her belly. “Not to worry,” she told her lima bean. “No dating for me. You’re all I need in my life. And I say that with love, rather than to pressure you.”
Toby carefully used the hook to bring the yarn up and around on the circular loom he’d bought at a local craft store. The charity project was starting in a little over a week, and he wanted to be proficient enough to help teach the kids what to do. One of the advantages to being the CEO of his own company, he thought humorously, was that he could work on crafts in the middle of the afternoon if he wanted to.
Satisfied with the three rows he’d completed, he stored the loom in a desk drawer. He would take it home with him tonight to work on over the weekend. Harrison had said he wanted to practice as well, and even get a start on making a hat or two. His son wanted this to be the best charity project the third-grade class had ever done.
His son had a big heart, Toby thought, moving his mouse to wake his computer. He was a sweet, caring boy with an easygoing nature. Given the family genetics, Toby knew he’d gotten lucky in that respect. Things could have been a lot different.
He looked at the spreadsheet in front of him, but instead of reviewing the numbers, he found himself thinking about the past. Probably because of what Dena had said about Reggie coming back. He hadn’t thought about her much in years, but in the past couple of days she’d been on his mind, along with a lot of things he’d done his best to forget.
Toby’s father had been a mean drunk and not much more pleasant when he was sober. Toby had been a troubled teenager, only relaxed and comfortable on the football field. Academics had never interested him, and he’d rarely found a rule he was willing to follow. If he’d grown up in a town big enough to have a tough crowd, he would have run with them. But in Wishing Tree, there hadn’t been any really bad kids. Still, he’d had a reputation.
One that Reggie Somerville had ignored, he thought, remembering how she’d shocked the hell out of him the spring day she’d walked up to him as he stood by his locker. She’d had on her cheerleader uniform, with its short skirt and tight sweater. Back then, she’d worn her brown hair in a high ponytail that had bounced with every step. A sophomore to his junior, she’d looked him right in the eye before saying, “You should ask me out sometime.”
That was it. A single sentence that had rocked his world and muddled his brain. He’d been unable to speak. Or move. He’d just stared at her until she’d given him a smile and turned and walked away, her skirt swinging and ponytail bouncing.
Later that afternoon, he’d finished PE about the time she’d finished her cheerleader workout. As if pulled by gravity, they’d met by the waist-high chain-link fence that divided the field. He’d tried to act cool and was sure he’d failed. Still, he’d managed to ask her out for Saturday night.
“I’d like that,” she’d told him.
