“Try out new varieties of s’mores.”
My stomach churns at the thought. “Ugh, I’m not touching one of those again for a very long time.”
“Same, not after watching you toss them up on the walk home.”
If he could stop reminding me that would be fantastic.
He sighs in my ear. “We can’t stand here all day discussing this, we need to settle on something.”
“But all these ideas are stupid,” I say petulantly, not having ideas of my own to contribute.
“We could take a walk, go hiking or something.”
“Yeah—we could.” Not that I want to, but it is something to do.
“We can have a countdown to lunch, then race back,” Davis suggests helpfully.
I give him a side-eye. “Racing through the woods sounds like a great way to get your eye poked out with a stick.”
“Please—it’s safer than being in a fishing boat with you and your hooks.”
True story.
We shuffle along the path, going nowhere because we have no plan of action, laughing and talking the entire way. It’s a nice companionable chat that I find myself easing into as if it were natural and we’ve known one another longer than twenty-four hours.
Strange considering what an entitled ass I was, demanding he get his own space when there are no other spaces for him to sleep in. Not to mention, he slept on the kitchen table last night, fully clothed, with only a thin blanket.
Guilt rears its ugly head at me.
What a spoiled brat I’m being.
We spend the next few hours as I originally planned; reading in a hammock down near the shore, me swinging in one with the paperback book open to Chapter One and Davis swinging in another with a ball cap pulled down over his eyes.
He doesn’t ask me to read to him out loud, which oddly disappoints me. I think it would be funny to watch his facial expressions as I read him a romance novel, especially the spicy parts or when they get romantic and have sex. Although now that I think about it that would probably be too embarrassing, reading the specifics out loud to the nearest stranger. I could see myself reading out loud to someone I was dating though; it might be fun foreplay.
At one point he raises the cap and looks over at me; asks if I’m hungry.
“Did you get the memo? I’m always hungry.” I squint as the sun shines through the trees. “What time is it?”
“It’s only eleven o’clock,” he says. “But they should be putting food out pretty soon for lunch.”
“Not that you’re keeping track,” I laugh.
“Not that I’m keeping track, but I am also always hungry. Could always eat. Basically I’m like my little niece—she’s always at my house and digging in my fridge because she knows I have good stuff. My sister is always feeding her healthy food.”
That was a mouthful.
“Your niece?”
“Yeah. They live right next-door.”
“They? You mean your sister and her family live right next-door?”
“No, it’s just my sister and her daughter. There’s no husband in the picture. I kind of take care of them in a way, but I don’t?”
I wonder what that means, and pry for more details. Try as I may, I cannot resist the urge to be nosy. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, lowering the hat again and covering his eyes. “My dad was never in the picture and we were raised by a single mom. So when Penelope got pregnant with Skipper and it became obvious her father wasn’t going to be in the picture, I bought her the house next door.”
Oh.
Oh. My. God.
My heart squeezes and grows two sizes.
DAMMIT.
No, Juliet—no! You will not succumb to his generosity.
Okay, but he also volunteers at the Humane Society.
Big deal, tons of people love animals, that does not make him special.
Not make him special? Now you’re just being an asshole.
I shake my head to clear the feathers out of it. “How old is your niece?”
“Seven.”
Seven?
My heart pitter patters with an undeniable ‘awwww.’ Seven. What a fun, cute, age.
“My sister works full-time, so she’s over a lot.” His mouth is moving and because his eyes are covered, I can study his full lips without him noticing, the five o’clock shadow from his lack of shaving only highlighting the cleft in his chin and the smile lines beside his mouth.
Ugh, I love that.
No you don’t. You are a weak, weak woman who hasn’t had a date in months.
Stop talking to yourself!
Reluctantly I let the subject drop and go back to my book; I’m insatiably curious but don’t want to come off as being intrusive. He’s already given me more details about himself than he’s given me the past twenty-four hours we’ve been together—granted, I was either sleeping or drunk for a lot of our time and wouldn’t remember even if he had told me.
It’s a very personal detail for him to reveal that he bought his sister a home and that he takes care of his niece to help her out. It also says a lot about him, his valuing family, and making it a priority to take care of his sibling. Briefly I wonder if she is his only sister, but push the thought away, as I start chapter two of my book, other questions lingering in my mind.