“I’m a Pre-K teacher over at Monroe Elementary. I work with children on the Autism Spectrum.”
“Wow,” his brows rise. “So you’re extremely attractive and a really good person.”
“Are you hitting on me?” I blurt out.
He laughs again, his perfectly placed white teeth on full display. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a while for me, too,” I admit, pushing some of my hair behind my ear.
“And why is that?” I hadn’t realized how bold of a question it is until he asked me. He answered when I asked; I guess it’s only fair I do, too.
“Widow,” I answer quietly. “He passed away two years ago.”
“Damn,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” He has that same look all people do when I tell them I’m a widow. A look of shock and surprise—and having no idea how to respond.
“Thanks.”
“I don’t want to sound insensitive here, but . . . you haven’t been on even one date in two years?”
I snort. “Nope. I think the men in this town, they knew Blake, and I think they feel like it’s disrespectful to him or something.” This is true, but even if they had asked, I’m not sure I would have been ready.
Vick watches me for a long moment but says nothing. I’m biting my tongue to keep myself from babbling.
“It was nice to meet you, Demi. Sorry, I interrupted your prayer, there.”
I’m not sure how well I do at hiding my shock. Wasn’t he going to ask me out? Internally, I roll my eyes at myself. I must’ve scared him off with my widow business. I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed he didn’t ask. It’s the first time in two years that I’ve considered even going out with someone.
“Yeah. You too, Vick. Good luck with the new job.”
As I watch Vick until he disappears from the aisle I’m standing in, my cell phone rings again and from where it sits in my purse, I can see Mom lit up on the screen. Thrusting my cart forward, I ignore her call and finish my shopping, wondering if the new guy in town was even remotely interested in me.
I’m almost home when I see my neighbor, Brian, working under the hood of his truck. Pulling up beside him, I shout, “Hey Brian!” Apparently I startled him because he jolts and hits his head on the hood.
“Shit!” I cringe. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay,” he laughs as he rubs the back of his head with one hand and adjusts his glasses with the other.
“Truck broke down?”
“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Piece of shit. I gotta leave for Oklahoma next weekend, and the damn transmission is acting up.”
“Can you fix it?” I ask.
“No. It’s going to have to go to a mechanic. Vehicles are like a foreign language to me.”
And here comes my sales pitch. “Well, I happen to know just the mechanic for the job, and he’s right down the street from you.”
When I return home, the garage bay door is open, and Connor is crouched down beside his Harley, his hand seemingly inside the machine. He’s wearing a pair of cargo shorts I bought him and nothing else. As I park the car, his head lifts, and his gaze meets mine. My eyes trace the intricate tattoos that run up his arms and down his back. It’s obvious he made good use of the gym in prison as his body is primed.
Snapping myself out of my lust-filled daydream, I climb out of the car, scolding myself for checking him out. Again. I’m obviously in need of some . . . something. I can’t keep checking out my cousin-in-law. That thought sends disappointment to the pit of my stomach. It’s too bad Vick didn’t ask me out. Wendy’s been begging to fix me up with one of Jeff’s friends, but I hate the idea of a blind date. So awkward.
I’m pulling a bag of groceries out of the trunk when Connor rounds the back of my car and snatches it out of my arms. “Let me carry these in for you.” With his free arm, he picks up the last two large paper bags and heads toward the house.