“Me, too,” he says, grinning back at me.
I turn to open the car door, and he stops me with his hand on my arm. “Wait.”
I laugh and remind him that he’s paying by the minute here.
He nods, then clears his throat. “Any chance of you inviting me in for a nightcap?”
“A nightcap?” I say, laughing. “You sound like my dad.”
“Your dad sounds like a cool guy.”
“He’s sixty-four. You sound sixty-four.”
“C’mon. Invite me in. I just want to talk some more. That’s it.”
I hesitate and smile, wondering what our driver is thinking. Surely he’s heard this conversation before, though he’s politely pretending not to listen.
“Okay,” I say, noticing that Gabe’s car is gone. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”
“Well, how nice of you to ask!” Pete says. “But I’d really rather have a cup of herbal tea.”
I smile and roll my eyes, then say, “And now you sound like my grandmother.”
About ten minutes later, after I’ve apologized for how messy the house is and I’ve made us tea, we head into the backyard with Revis. The night is pleasantly cool, and we both murmur how nice it is.
“The mosquitoes are gone, too,” he says.
I glance at him, smile, then say, “Are we really talking about weather and bugs?”
“We are,” he says.
“We can do better that that,” I say. “C’mon. What do you got?”
Pete gives me a serious look, then says, “Okay. I was actually just thinking of that donor guy’s mission statement.”
“Oh, yeah? And?”
He nods and says, “Yeah. I have to say…it is pretty noble.”
“I know,” I say. “I don’t think I could donate one of my eggs like that….Could you? Donate sperm?”
“Maybe,” he says. “For a friend. If I believed she would be a good mother. For you I probably would.” He raises his eyebrows and shoots me an earnest sideways look.
I laugh, but he doesn’t.
“Are you serious?” I ask, feeling the tiniest flutter in my stomach. “Or is this some kind of a ploy to sleep with me?”
Pete gives me the Boy Scout’s three-finger honor sign and says, “I swear it’s not a ploy. Besides, I totally had a turkey baster scenario in mind. Isn’t that how they do it?”
I nod. “Something like that…I think it’s a little more sophisticated, though.”
We both take sips of our tea as I wonder if he’s starting to feel at all uncomfortable. Shockingly, I am not. “Would you make me pay for your sperm?” I ask jokingly. “Or give it to me for free?”
“I’d give you my friends and family rate,” he deadpans.
I smile, looking into his eyes. It’s too dark to really see them, and I suddenly can’t recall their exact shade. “What color are your eyes, exactly?”
“Hazel,” he says.
“I never know what that means….What is hazel? Besides a trendy girls’ name.”
“A nicer way of saying brown…” Seeing right through my line of questioning, he adds, “Anything else you’d like to know that you didn’t glean from Match and our two dates?”
“This isn’t a date, remember?” I say. “And I think I have all relevant data. I have your height, eye color, profession. You seem like a nice guy—”
“I am a nice guy.”
“And,” I say, “you just saved a man’s life. So you’re sort of a hero.”
“True,” Pete says with an adorable full-on grin.
“How’s your health?”
“Good,” Pete says. “I just had a physical….My resting heart rate is fifty-eight. Blood pressure one ten over seventy.”
I nod, even though I don’t know what these numbers mean. “How about your family’s medical history?”
“My grandfather died of a heart attack at fifty-nine, but he smoked a pack a day….My other three grandparents are still alive, along with one great-grandparent. Healthy midwestern stock.”
“Do you have OCD? ADD? Depression?”
He shakes his head.
“A mean streak?”
He smiles and says, “Nope. I’m pretty simple.”
“How simple?”
“Not too simple.”
“What’s your IQ?”
“No clue,” he says. “But I took all the AP courses in high school.”
“And where did you go to college again?”
“University of Wisconsin. I had a three point six in a hard major. Biology.”
“Are you athletic?”
“Decently coordinated…I have a good golf swing. I shoot in the low eighties. I played baseball and tennis in high school.”
“Varsity?”
“You really think I would mention JV?”
I smile. “Are you artistic or musical?”
“Not really. Is that important to you?”
“Nonessential,” I say, deep in thought, studying his face, my eyes finally adjusting to the dark. He really does have a good bone structure and even, symmetrical features, almost pulling off the buzz cut. I like his complexion, as well as the color and texture of his hair. And then there’s that cleft.