“And my shirt?”
She reddened perceptibly and averted her eyes before answering. “I think someone might have spilled a drink on you at the bar. You reeked of Scotch.”
Aidan dipped his head and stuffed another forkful into his mouth so she wouldn’t see him smiling. While she might be telling him the truth about the spilled drink, the obvious blush suggested that perhaps she might have had an ulterior motive for removing his shirt as well. He probably should have felt some faint sense of violation, but as it was, he was amused by her embarrassment.
He took his time chewing. “Thanks for that. And for, you know, not taking advantage of me. These eggs are great, by the way.”
“Glad you like them.”
Mary worked her way around the kitchen, watering the multitude of plants that gave the space an almost tropical feel. As he watched her progress surreptitiously from beneath hooded eyes, he noted the warm, cozy feel of the kitchen. With buttery cream colored walls, oak-stained cabinetry, and gleaming white appliances, the room was like a balm to his soul. A small hand-painted canvas suspended on the wall proclaimed “Life is Short. Eat Dessert First.” That made him smile.
Unlike the state-of-the-art, stainless steel showplace he had in his condo, this was the type of place to share intimate homemade dinners for two, or have a cup of coffee and unburden your soul. And the breakfast bar was just about the right height to allow a man to sneak up behind an unsuspecting woman, grasp her hips and sink into...
Aidan shook his head, forcing the bizarre and totally inappropriate images from his mind. Mary gave him a curious look, but thankfully, said nothing.
Aidan went back to perusing his surroundings, appreciating the clean, bright space. Large sliding doors and oversized windows allowed copious amounts of sunlight to stream in and afforded a nice view of the backyard. The previous night’s quick-moving clipper storm was long gone, leaving a glittering fresh top coat of two or three inches on top of what was already out there. It was so cozy, so welcoming, that he felt instantly at home.
“So, Mary, do you make a habit of picking up strange men in bars and bringing them back to your house?”
Mary stiffened at the sink, and he realized what he’d just said. It had sounded much more amusing in his mind, but hearing the words out loud like that sounded rude and insulting. His comment hung in the heavy silence that followed for several heartbeats.
“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.”
“It’s okay,” Mary said, though her warm and friendly smile had weakened. “It’s the truth. And to answer your question, no, I don’t. But you really looked like you needed some help.” She took his now-empty plate and silverware over to the sink, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Mary, please, I’m sorry.” The words were too little, too late. It was as if a switch had been flipped. The bright sunshine dimmed, and the cozy warmth he’d felt up until this point chilled quickly.
Mary grabbed a thick cable-knit sweater from a peg near a closed door and pulled it over her head. “No biggie,” she said, but her smile was forced. “Max and I have some errands to run. We can give you a ride out to your car.”
It was clearly a dismissal. Maybe not as blatant as “don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out”, but there was no mistaking the meaning. Aidan was reluctant to leave things the way they were, especially when she had done nothing but been exceptionally kind and generous.
Unfortunately, his recovering brain was suppressing his natural ability to find the right words to repair the damage. Mary was obviously a kind woman, but also a sensitive one. He didn’t want to make things even more uncomfortable by saying the wrong thing, so he sighed quietly and stood.
“Come on, Max, let’s get the car loaded.”
“Let me help.” Aidan said, wanting to do something that might get her to look at him again like she had only a few minutes earlier. “Just let me get my jacket.”
Mary gave no indication that she heard him, and by the time he made his way out into the attached garage, she was loading the last of more than a dozen reusable canvas grocery bags into the back of her Jeep.
Sighing again at having missed an opportunity to soften her toward him, Aidan slid quietly into the passenger seat.