Most of the time he appreciated Lori's straightforward honesty. Today he suspected she might well have him pinned to the wall, and not in any way he would enjoy. He dodged the question as much as he could, unwilling to fess up to his motives. What would she say if she knew he was plotting to give her the family he hadn't been able to? "We may not be a couple, but we can be friends."
"I'm not so sure."
Disappointment dogged Gray with a force that surprised him. He shouldn't care this much, and that left his feet itching to run. "Why not?"
Her eyes widened incredulously. "Because … because … because of…" Her hands flailed the air as if she might find the words there. Finally she made a sweeping gesture across the bed. "Because of that."
The mattress seemed to double in size, large and inviting. But they stood on opposite sides—of the bed and so much more.
"Lori, let me share something I've discovered this past year. That," he said, jabbing a finger toward the bed, "is going to be there whether we're in the same room with it or not. That is going to be there even if you and I aren't in the same room. That is just something we're going to have to live with." He pulled a tight grin. "Or rather, live without."
She twirled a lock of hair. The regret in her eyes tempted him, echoing a regret within him he understood too well. "Meanwhile, we're old friends. You need help. I want to give it. Now let's put together Barbie's dream house."
"God, you're stubborn." Lori twisted the lock of hair faster, before flicking it aside. "But you're also right."
About being friends or wanting each other regardless of time and miles? Of course, in two weeks there would be three thousand miles between them when he transferred cross country to McChord AFB in Washington. He didn't plan to go through a repeat of the past year dodging memories of Lori. The only way he could see to avoid it was to ignore how damn much he wanted her.
Gray tapped the dollhouse box with his boot. "What'll it be? Do you want help with the seven thousand pieces rattling around in this box or not?"
Hands clenched by his sides, he waited for her answer, watched that answer shift back and forth in her eyes—for him, against, and back again. His fingers unfurled.
"Okay, let's put this thing together." Lori glanced at the bed. "But maybe we ought to assemble it in the living room."
"I always knew you were a smart woman." And he sure didn't intend to let such a smart woman know he would be thinking of that every time he looked at her striped couch.
* * *
Lori placed a tray of sandwiches, chips and sweet tea on the antique tea cart beside Gray. He sprawled on the floor beside the fully assembled Barbie house, placing stickers on a Big Wheel. His voice filled the room with low, rumbling intensity as he sang along with her Billie Holiday CD. Grayson and the blues. A potent combination.
Intense concentration puckered his brow as he centered a racing stripe. His singing dwindled until he'd pressed the edges of the decal in place.
He really had been a great help, patient even when she'd done her best to rile him with inane Capri pants and clogs in hopes he would spill his real agenda. Maybe there wasn't one. Maybe he'd meant exactly what he'd said. He wanted them to be friends. She'd learned quickly that Gray made friends with ease.
Perhaps that was the problem. Building friendships had always been tougher for her, never having had the time to hone the skill on any one person. Friendships were rare and special for her. She wasn't sure she wanted to grant Gray that much importance in her life.
After the past couple of days, she wasn't sure he would leave her any choice.
She could take a page from Gray's book, couldn't she? A light friendship would ease a loneliness in her life that work couldn't quite fill. She would certainly need a friend a month from now when Magda went to her permanent home. Could she dare hope Gray might still be there for her, not as a lover, but as a friend?
If she even wanted to entertain the thought, she needed to learn some of those friendship skills from Gray. Lori snagged an oversize tapestry pillow from the sofa and dropped it on the floor beside him.
"Here you go, friend." Lori passed Gray a plate stacked with two sandwiches.
His gaze jerked from the sofa to her. He smoothed down a cartoon speedometer before taking the dish. "Thanks."
The light brush, tingle, heat of their fingers had nothing to do with friendship. Lori resolved to ignore it.
"The least I can do is feed you a sandwich after all your help." She sat cross-legged beside him, reaching for the bowl of chips to place between them. Not as big a barrier as the bed earlier, but certainly less provocative.
Her hand glided along the restored gleam of the tea cart, like rubbing a talisman. She'd found it at an estate auction a couple of months past. She loved to think about the history of the piece, even if the roots belonged to someone else. "I really do appreciate your help. I would have been up all night just reading the instructions."
"This was a cake walk compared to assembling toys for seven nieces and nephews last Christmas."
So he'd spent Christmas with his family. She'd wondered. Her parents had flown into Charleston, their hometown, for the holidays. She'd spent the whole week thinking about how Gray had once suggested they take a Christmas cruise together.
Lori bit into her turkey sandwich. Or was it ham? It tasted like paste. She swallowed the dry lump. "You probably think I'm crazy to buy all this for a kid who'll only be with me a few weeks. But I didn't have more than a few toys on hand, and those were just for babies stopping through for a few hours."
"Every kid deserves toys."