“That’s an excellent suggestion,” their mother agreed. “You’ve been on your feet all day at the toy store and you have to work again tomorrow. There’s no need to spend your few hours off sitting here in a hospital room.”
As if to reinforce their arguments, a nutrition-services aide entered the room just then with Kyle’s dinner on a tray. Stacy immediately busied herself helping her son sit up in the bed so he could eat. Their mother hovered, too, coaxing the boy to eat his vegetables so he could quickly regain his strength.
“I didn’t intend to put you in an awkward position or take you away from your family,” James murmured to Shannon while the rest of the family was occupied. “I’d be delighted for you to join me for dinner, but only if you want to.”
Annoyed with all of them—and maybe herself, as well—she reached for her purse. “Actually, I’m headed home. I put some ingredients in the slow cooker this morning so I’d have dinner ready this evening. There’s enough for you, too, if you want to follow me,” she added a bit gruffly. “If not, then I’ll see you later.”
She was well aware that it wasn’t the most gracious invitation; she didn’t need the chiding looks from her mother and sister to drive the point home. But James merely nodded. “Thanks, that sounds great.”
Shannon kissed her nephew’s cheek, told him she would see him the next day, then said good night to her mother and sister with a bit less warmth. Judging from their expressions, they knew exactly why she was annoyed at them—but the satisfied looks they exchanged proved they weren’t particularly repentant.
It was earlier than Devin usually left for work, but she was already gone by the time Shannon walked in with James following behind her. She had left a note taped to the slow cooker. “Smells delish, but meeting friends for pizza before work. Last-minute plan. Save the leftovers!”
Having expected Devin to join her and James for dinner, Shannon hid a sudden, nervous qualm when she turned to him with a fake smile. “Looks like it’s just the two of us. I’ll make a quick salad and heat some bread. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, if you want to wash up and watch the news or something while I finish up in here.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, thanks. The kitchen’s kind of small for two. Make yourself comfortable in the living room. The TV’s behind the cabinet door.”
He nodded and turned to leave the room. She drew a deep breath when she was alone in the small, galley-styled kitchen. Being in such close quarters with James was definitely not conducive to clear thinking, s
he mused as she pulled wheat rolls out of the freezer and salad makings from the fridge.
At least the house was tidy, even though they hadn’t been expecting company. She and Devin always kept the living room ready for guests and both tended to be neat in other areas, as well.
She wondered what James thought of their little rent house—which led her to wondering where and how he lived. Though they had seen each other in their work environments, they hadn’t glimpsed much of each other’s private lives yet. Bringing James into her home felt like another step forward in their…well, she would call it friendship, because that was a comfortable and uncomplicated term. Even though her feelings for James were rarely comfortable and almost never uncomplicated.
When the simple meal was ready, she set the serving dishes on the table in the tiny dining area at the end of the narrow kitchen, then went in search of James. Rather than watching television, he had entertained himself looking through the party albums displayed on what they generously referred to as their conference table, even though it barely seated four comfortably. The albums held photos of all the parties she had organized, along with samples of invitations, catalogs of party favors and decorations, theme descriptions, options and price lists.
As proud as she was of her work and of the materials she had assembled to promote her business, she still felt a little self-conscious when James looked up at her. She wanted his reaction to what he’d seen to be positive, but not patronizing. She hated being patted on the head like a kindergartner displaying prized crayon artwork.
“I hope you don’t mind that I looked through your albums.”
She shook her head. “Of course not. I told you to make yourself at home. And those albums are there for visitors to look through—most of the stuff in them is also available at my Web site.”
“Yes, I’ve seen your site. It’s an excellent sales tool. There are more photos in your albums, though. I enjoyed looking at them. The parties look like fun. I’m sure the guests had a great time at all of them.”
“That was the goal. Dinner’s ready, by the way.”
“It smells delicious.”
“You haven’t even asked what we’re having.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not a picky eater. And I’m hungry enough to eat dirt soup tonight.”
She laughed. “It’s not quite that bad. I made Santa Fe chicken. Chicken, black beans, tomatoes and green chilies. Salad and wheat rolls on the side.”
“Sounds much better than dirt soup,” he agreed eagerly.
Laughing again, she led him to the table.
He helped himself to a generous portion of the dish, topping it with the sour cream and grated cheese she’d provided for garnish. They talked about her work while they ate and she made him laugh several times with amusing anecdotes from some of her parties.
She loved hearing him laugh, she thought with a little tingle of pleasure. Just as she loved seeing him eating her meal with such obvious pleasure. She loved seeing him looking relaxed and comfy at her table, more approachable now that he’d shed his white coat and tie, turning back the sleeves of his blue dress shirt to reveal his nice forearms. She loved…
Choking a little on a bite of chicken, she pushed any further thoughts along that line to the back of her mind. She didn’t even know James that well, she reprimanded herself. There was no need to get carried away here.
Chapter Eight