“They’ve got someone to keep them company tonight. I can’t blame them.” When Kara glanced at him, he shrugged. Then he stood and started gathering oranges into the basket they’d come from.
“You don’t have to pick those up. I can do it.” She reached for it, but he kept it out of reach. “Really, Graham, you should get going. I’m sure you’ve got plans.”
“I have nothing. It’s a school night,” he added with a smile over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen. He pitched the oranges and set the basket by the sink. “Do you mind if I get a glass of water?”
“Sure thing,” she called from the living room. He heard the jumble of EpiPens and knew she was putting them all away safely. “Glasses are in the cabinet beside the sink.”
He opened the one to the right, and came face to face with a mini pharmacy. It took him a moment to catch his breath after seeing the medications. He hoped some were just for emergencies, and not all for daily use. He couldn’t imagine Zach having to take that much regularly. He was a tough, smart kid, but even tough kids had limits.
Closing the cabinet quietly, he opened the right one and got water from the filter pitcher in the refrigerator. He carried it back to the living room and settled into the armchair. She’d want him to go, and he was fully prepared to miss all her subtle hints. He was about to be rude, on purpose, for the first time in his adult life.
“I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
Hint number one to get out. “I’m free.”
“Really, I don’t want to keep you.”
Hint number two. “It was no problem. I’m glad I know about it now.” He grinned when her hand clenched around the edge of the coffee table.
“I appreciate you coming by.” Her voice was firm, but her hands shook a little as she started to sweep crumbs onto the platter. She wouldn’t make eye contact. “Zach adores all you guys, and you taking an interest in his medical needs says a lot. Not every adult in his life cares enough to bother.”
“Then they’re assholes.” Graham took a calm sip of water as her head snapped up. “He’s got allergies, that’s all. It’s changing a few ingredients to a recipe here or there. Buying a different brand of food, or keeping an eye on the utensils. It’s not the end of the world, far as I can tell from reading your blog.”
She sat back on her heels. “You really did read it.”
Hell yeah, I read it. I want you. I’ve wanted you for weeks. And I’ll use everything at my disposal to get to know you.
All he said was, “Yep. It’s a good blog, lots of easy-to-understand info. You could really make that a full-time gig.”
She blushed, then continued scraping off the totally clean coffee table. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“Why do I make you nervous?”
She jolted, as if he’d touched her with a hot poker instead of just asking her a question. “I’m not nervous,” she lied, not making eye contact. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re cleaning the coffee table instead of looking at me. You’ve been trying to push me out the door since I got here. And you don’t want to be alone with me. Why? What is it about me that freaks you out?”
“I’m not freaked out by you.” She stood and gave him her back as she walked to the trash can with cupped palms and dusted the crumbs into the trash can. “I’m just not sure being alone like this is wise. Nothing can happen, and I don’t want to accidentally encourage you, so . . .” She looked back at him, hands in the air in defeat. Her eyes were sad, like she regretted it more than she could voice.
“Kara.” He spoke softly, and she instinctively walked to him on bare feet. “Kara, nothing has happened. I’m trying not to push you.”
“I know that. And I appreciate it.” She halted a foot away. “More than you know.”
“But at this speed, we might make it to our first date when we’re eligible for the early bird special. I like you. I hate games, so I’m telling you now, I like you.”
There. Cards laid out. He wasn’t kidding. Games were the worst. He watched game players all day in his office, and he did everything he could to avoid the bullshit in his personal life.
She swallowed, and he took a half step toward her. Closing the gap slowly enough she could move back if she needed to. But she didn’t move back, only tilted her head up slightly to look at him. “Graham . . .”
His lips quirked. “Kara.”
“Graham.” Her voice had softened, almost to a slur, and her eyelids closed a fraction. “I—my phone.”
He hadn’t even heard it ring, he was so lost. “Get it later.”
“I can’t. Zach. Zach’s with a friend.” She patted the pockets of her jean shorts, did quick spins in place looking frantically for the still ringing phone. “Phone! Where’s my phone!”
“Here.” He found it on the floor beside the leg of the table and handed it to her just as it stopped ringing. He waited while she checked the call, then immediately called them back.