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If he were lucky, she would make him look better. If he were really lucky—and tried real hard—she would make him better by being herself.
“But I thought that spark was something that happened when you met someone. That it happened right off the bat. No waiting. Not getting to know someone. One day strangers, the next day, true love.” He didn’t let the edge in her voice bother him. He had a goal in mind, and being distracted by her worries would only get in the way of getting there.
If she didn’t want to be with him, if she didn’t want to pursue the intensity that she’d also felt, then that was one thing.
But if she was afraid…
“I’ll be honest, that’s what I thought, too.” With Marsie, honesty would only help him. Which was good, since he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to lie to her.
“What changed your mind?”
It was his turn to take a bite of his doughnut. He must also have gotten a bit of frosting on his lip, too, because her lips pursed into a smile she was trying to hide.
“Smile all you want,” he said. “You’ve got a streak on your lip, too.”
“What!” She swiped at her lip with her napkin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He touched the frosting on his lip with the tip of his tongue. “Because I have hopes for this conversation. And those hopes end with a scenario where I get to lick that frosting off you. It would be self-defeating to let you remove it first.”
“Humph,” she said, but she looked pleased and left the rest of the frosting there. “You still have a question to answer.”
“So I do.” Now it was his turn to need a moment to think. “It wasn’t the sex, though I know that’s what you’re thinking. The sex helped. The sex was amazing. The sex was fire and lightning, none of this small spark stuff.
“But what really changed my mind was the after. When you were so obviously uncomfortable and wanted me gone. As I was dragging my feet to my car, it struck me that I was more worried about you than about anything else. Not worried how you thought about me. Not worried about what you would say about me. But strictly worried about you. About you separate from me, but also about how I don’t think I can be separate from you.”
He picked up his cup, then put it down. Then picked it up again. And put it down. “That’s what changed my mind.”
“Are you sure that wasn’t just the orgasm talking?”
“If it was, my orgasm has never spoken so loud before. I’m thinking I should listen to it.”
That got an honest-to-God chuckle out of her. “Okay. I don’t want to know about your previous relationships. They’re not really any of my business. But if you say this is different, then I will believe you.”
He pulled the top off his biscuit sandwich and plopped the piece of fried chicken on his plate, then cut a piece off. The sandwich was too messy to eat as a sandwich. The conversation was the only messy thing he would allow himself right now.
“I’m not the only one who needs to say why this—” he gestured between them with his fork “—is different. I’m not the only one who had rules for dating that sex broke.”
“No.” When she took a bite out of her biscuit sandwich, lettuce, tomato and chicken popped out the other end, but she stuck through her choice. Marsie was braver than he was.
“I’ve been on a bunch of dates with men who, on paper, are perfect for me. They were great. And I’m sure, really great men for someone else. Interesting. Witty.”
He was starting to feel like his chances of converting her to a yes were getting smaller and smaller with every compliment she gave all those men. Then she started to look sheepish. He could be patient a little longer.
“My friend Beck—you should meet her. You’d like her and she’d like you. Anyway, she’s getting a divorce from a man who, on paper, is perfect for her. Or was, when they got married. She told me that I wasn’t looking for the perfect man, I was looking to date myself. And that I’d get bored, because while I’m interesting and cool, I’m not challenging to myself. I believe her exact words were, ‘you’re not a sock.’”
