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  “That’s awesome,” Alex said, losing the reporter voice.

  “Actually, I’d love to pick your brain a bit.”

  “Pick away.”

  “I’m working on a proposal for the expansion of an equine rehab facility in North Carolina. I could use your help with some of the medical terms. It’s like they speak a different language. I have to look up everything they say.”

  “I have some time now, if you want me to translate.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” He flashed me his killer smile.

  He looked back at the road. I slid Louis’s slip of paper back in the envelope.

  “So who is Louis?” I asked.

  Alex gave me a mock blank look. “You just-the guy in the suit?” “No, I mean who is he to you? How do you know him?”

  “Had me worried there a second,” Alex said, laughing.

  “You knew what I meant.”

  “Yeah, I did,” he confessed. “Louis was my grandfather’s best friend. And he raised my dad.” He said it like that was the end of the story.

  “How did that happen?” I asked, leaning my head against the car seat.

  “They were buddies in Korea, and they made a pact that if one of them didn’t make it back, the other one would take care of things . . .” Alex trailed off as he made a left into traffic.

  “So, your grandfather died in the war?”

  “No, they both made it back. They bought houses on the same street and everything.” He laughed. “They were quite a pair, from what my grandmother said. Always pulling pranks on each other. Two years later, my grandfather died in a car accident, and Louis told my grandmother the pact still stood. He helped with bills, fixed stuff around the house.” Alex kept his eyes on the road. “He acted like my dad was his own kid. My dad even wanted me to call Louis ‘Grandpa,’ but Louis wouldn’t have it. Said it didn’t honor the right person. So he’s just Louis.”

  “It must be really nice to have a Louis,” I said, smoothing the envelope out against my thigh.

  “Everyone should be lucky enough to have a Louis,” Alex said.

  Joe barked at us when we opened the front door. He was used to me coming in through the garage, and being alone. The fur around his face was disheveled and his eyes were barely open.

  “Looks like we woke you up, Mr. Joe.” Alex bent down and scratched behind Joe’s ear.

  “So, Joe’s a German Shepherd, right?” I asked.

  “Right.”

  “But why does he have long fur like that?”

  “It’s a long stock coat.” Alex ran his fingers through Joe’s fur. “Some people call it a plush coat. It’s like some people have blue eyes, and some have brown. Genetics.” When he stood up, he made my living room look smaller. He was so tall that he was out of scale with my furniture, like putting a He-Man action figure in a dollhouse.

  He stood so close to me and all of a sudden, I got nervous. Really nervous. This guy liked me. This amazing, sweet, kind, funny guy liked me. The benefit of being in love with someone who was with someone else was that I never had to honestly face him with all those feelings. They were hidden and secret and protected. But Alex liked me, and it was okay for me to like him back. I didn’t know what do with myself. I didn’t know how to act. I felt like my knees were going to quit on me. “I can go get that grant,” I mumbled, backing away from Alex. I started walking up the stairs. He followed and Joe stayed downstairs so he could go back to napping on the couch.

  I looked back over my shoulder at Alex on my way up the stairs. He flashed me his big crooked smile.

  “It’s kind of messy.” I tried to picture the state of my office. I couldn’t remember how I’d left it, but I knew it wasn’t good.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I might.” I shrugged my shoulders up toward my ears.

  “Don’t.” Alex put his hand on my waist and gave it a squeeze.

  I tried not to think about my back fat. After he pulled his hand back I sucked in my stomach so if he did it again I’d be ready.

  He followed me up to the door. I peeked in and did a quick scan of the room. It wasn’t too bad. The paper shredder was overflowing, gum wrappers were piled up on my desk in mounds like raked leaves, and there were three coffee cups by the monitor, but the carpet was fairly clean and most of my paperwork piles were neatly stacked.

  “Wow,” Alex said, walking in behind me.

  “I know, it’s a mess.” I hoped he wasn’t one of those people who was obsessed with order.

  “No. This.” Alex pointed to the whiteboard that covered the wall next to my desk. “What is it?”

  “I diagram my grants.”

  He gave me a blank look.

  “See, I take all the requirements for the grant and put them up on the board.” I walked over and pointed at the board. “Then when I do research and fill things in, I can check off what I’ve covered.” I felt like a spokes-model showing him the points I’d already covered.

  Alex came over and stood next to me, very close. He tipped his head to the side and wrinkled up his forehead. He was really trying to figure it out, not just being polite. No one else ever understood my work, or even tried to. Peter, Janie, and Diane all acted like I was practically unemployed just because I worked flexible hours and often in my pajamas. It was nice to be taken seriously for a change.

  I looked at him, and he looked back at me. I thought maybe he would kiss me, but then his face turned red and he moved over to read the next column on the board.

  “It’s probably really boring.” I walked over to the desk, gathered up the pile of gum wrappers closest to the keyboard, and shooed them into the trash can.

  “Not at all,” Alex said, putting his hand on my shoulder to pull me back to the board. I loved the way his hand felt on my back. I loved the way he smelled like laundry detergent. My daydreams about Peter always involved us having these extravagant lives, but standing in my office with Alex and talking about work was suddenly the most romantic thing I could imagine. He was interested in me. He respected me. It was far more romantic than the Mediterranean Sea at sunset. It was real.

  Alex grabbed an orange marker and put a star next to the rehab exerciser. “There’s an exerciser that’s closer to a treadmill.”

  He was standing really close again. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe this was happening. This tall, handsome scarecrow was standing in my office, marking up my board.

  “It doesn’t cost as much as other exercisers.” Alex kept the marker on the star. His brow furrowed when he was concentrating. It was really sexy. “So if they went with that, the extra money could go to the trailer.” He drew a line over to the line that read Transport Trailer—No Money and made another star.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking up at him, nodding my head like I’d actually been paying attention instead of wondering if he was ever going to kiss me. “This is great.”

  “So are you,” he said, looking into my eyes. He laughed and covered his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, that was really lame, huh?”

  I realized that he was nervous too, and it made me like him even more. “Works for me,” I said, quietly.

  We stared at each other for a minute, and then Alex leaned in and kissed me. He put his hand on my neck just under my chin. We stumbled, lips locked, until my back was against the wall. His lips were soft and there was the slightest scratch of his stubble against my cheek. All that stupid movie talk of fireworks or stars in your eyes or falling head over heels-that kiss made me get it. I felt it in every inch of my body. He pulled away and looked at me.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling like my head might never be able to form cognitive thoughts ever again, and I was completely okay with that.

  Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh, crap!” he said, pointing behind me.

  I turned around and realized that we’d erased half my board with my back.

  “I’m so sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean
to mess up your board.”

  “As long as you’re not sorry you kissed me,” I said. My cheeks flushed.

  “Not the least little bit,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face. “But is your work okay?”

  “It’s fine. I have copies of what was up there.” I grabbed a packet off my desk and handed it to him. “The list of definitions I need to look up is on the last page.”

  “I’ll write them in for you,” he said, flipping through the pages.

  “Thank you. That’ll save me so much time.”

  “My pleasure.” He rolled the report into a tube and shoved it in his back pocket. He slid his hands into his front pockets and rolled forward on his feet. “Since you’ll have some free time now, do you think I could take you out to dinner tomorrow?”

  “I think you could,” I said, smiling.

  Before he left, he wrapped his arms around me again, and we stood in the doorway kissing until Joe barked at us.

  As soon as Alex left, I ransacked my closet. I had no nice clothes. I had no reason to have nice clothes. The ones that were presentable when I was in college were either worn out, too tight, or a fun combination of both. I found the black Betsey Johnson dress I got at the outlet mall with my mom. I didn’t want to try it on. Maybe it was too come and get it. It was probably too small. It still had the tags on. It reminded me too much of her.

  “It was made for you, lady,” she’d said when I came out of the dressing room. It was a black jersey knit that hung low and loose off my shoulders and was tight in all the right places.

  “I don’t have anywhere to wear it, Mom.” I tugged at the sleeves to see how far down the shoulders could go before it got dangerous.

  She grabbed for the price tag.

  “It’s on sale,” she said. “And everyone should have a dress that makes them feel like this.” She picked a piece of lint off of my breast and flicked it away from us. “You make a place to wear something like this.”

  I pulled skirts off hangers and let shirts slip to the floor as I thumbed through them. But nothing was right, so I slipped the dress over my head. I slid my arms into the sleeves as I walked into the bathroom and the dress fell into place. It fit perfectly. I studied myself in the mirror from all angles, piling my hair up on my head while I checked out the back. I sucked my cheeks and pouted. Joe dropped his chew toy on the floor and watched me.

  I wished I could call my mom to tell her I finally had a reason to wear the dress.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next night, at five minutes to six, Joe growled and ran over to my bedroom window. I followed, wearing two different shoes, because I couldn’t decide which ones worked better.

  I peeked out the window and saw Alex’s pickup truck sitting at the end of my driveway. I kicked off the low-heeled shoe in favor of the higher one with the patent leather bow. When I couldn’t find the mate, I decided that the bow was too precious and the plain ones would work better anyway.

  But after all of that, he still hadn’t rung the doorbell. I worried he might be having second thoughts.

  I checked out the window. The truck was still there.

  I ran into the bathroom, gargled some mouthwash, and touched up my lip gloss. When I looked in the mirror, I felt pretty. I’d forgotten that I was pretty. I was so used to wearing ratty jeans and messy ponytails that I had forgotten how good it felt to look good.

  I ran down the stairs and peeked out the window. The truck was pulling up the driveway.

  At exactly six, the doorbell rang.

  Joe tore over to the door and sat in front of it, barking.

  I opened the door, and he ran out and jumped on Alex.

  “I’m sorry!” I said, trying to grab Joe’s collar and pull him back inside.

  When I leaned over, the neck of my dress fell forward, flashing my bra. I hugged my free arm up to my shoulder to cover myself. If Alex saw, he did a good job of pretending he didn’t.

  “No problem.” He reached into his sports jacket and pulled out a rawhide bone. “Okay?” he asked, waving it at me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Here you go, buddy.” Alex held the bone out.

  Joe took it gently between his teeth and jumped up on the couch.

  “Some men bring flowers. You bring rawhide,” I said, laughing. “I guess you’ve figured out that the way to my heart is through my dog, huh?”

  “Yup,” Alex said, smiling. “And this is for you.” He handed me a rolled-up tube of paper. “I wrote all the definitions in. Let me know if you can’t read my handwriting.”

  “Thank you!” The writing on the first page was strange and square, like an architect’s-like maybe he worked extra hard to make it clear for me.

  I stepped back into the house to let him in. As soon as I closed the door, he wrapped his arms around me.

  “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” he said.

  He seemed so comfortable hugging me. Did it mean as much to him as it did to me? Maybe he was one of those people who hugged everyone. I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart pounding against my chest.

  He breathed in deeply, as if he was smelling my hair. I hoped it smelled good. I’d washed my hair, but I didn’t have any flowery shampoo, just the stuff that was on Shopper’s Club special at Wegmans.

  Alex stepped away from me and held my hands. “You look amazing,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I remembered seeing this thing on PBS about smiling. We have like a million different types of fake smiles, but only one true, involuntary smile. The way Alex made me smile was totally involuntary. My cheeks hurt.

  The light blue shirt he had on under his sports jacket was worn down to white threads at the very tips of the collar. His pants were charcoal gray. The crease was still sharp and they looked brand-new. He had a tie wadded up in his jacket pocket. I reached over and pulled it out. It was pale yellow with maroon and blue paisley patterned across in diagonal lines. I held it up to him.

  “I don’t know how to tie a tie,” he said. “I thought maybe you would.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well, not so well. But it’s worth a try.”

  He buttoned the top two buttons of his collar and held his arms out to the sides like a paper doll.

  I flipped his collar up, slipped my arms around his neck, and passed the tie from one hand to the other to pull the ends to the front. I milked it. I liked the feel of his hair against my hands. I liked my face so close to his that I could feel his breath on my nose.

  I twisted the tie around itself and pulled the knot up toward his neck. The last time I’d tied a tie was for Peter. I lingered, taking longer to stay close to him too, but my hands hadn’t had the same nervous shake, and my fingers hadn’t fumbled as much.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  I ran my hand down his tie to smooth it out. Alex put his hand over mine. He leaned forward and kissed me. I kept my eyes closed for an extra second when he pulled away. The insides of my eyelids glowed warm orange. When I opened my eyes, everything still looked warm.

  He threaded his fingers into mine and gave my hand a tug. We smiled at each other, big goofy grins.

  “We have reservations,” he said, softly.

  “Do we?” I said, raising my eyebrows. I stepped away from him to grab my purse and coat.

  He blushed. “Leonardi’s. Six fifteen.” He took my coat and held it out for me to slip into.

  “I’ve never been.” I buttoned up my coat and pulled my gloves out of the pocket. I didn’t put them on, in case Alex wanted to hold my hand in the car.

  “Louis recommended it.”

  We said good-bye to Joe, who was so busy chewing on his rawhide bone that he barely noticed we were leaving.

  Alex opened the passenger door, and closed it gently after I got in. I worried that it might not be closed all the way. I always slammed my car door shut.

  He slid onto the seat next to me. When he turned the car on, country music was blasting. Something about a Whirlpool washer and dryer. I couldn’t tell if it
was a commercial or a song. Alex reached for the knob on the radio and turned it down.

  “I’m guessing you’re not a country fan,” he said.

  “How’d you know?” I asked, still with the big smile. It wouldn’t go away.

  “Your accent is the opposite of country.”

  “I don’t have an accent.” I laughed. “You have an accent.”

  “Oh, really,” he said, in mock annoyance. “Missy, you say coffee like there’s a w in it.”

  “There isn’t?” I stuck my tongue out at him.

  He looked over at me, then back at the road. “Don’t stick out your tongue unless you intend to use it.”

  “What, are you in high school?” I pushed at his shoulder lightly.

  He smiled at me and I could see the crinkles around his eyes in the yellow streetlight.

  “Are you going to stop short and try to cop a feel?” I blurted out, surprising myself.

  Alex laughed. When we got to the stop sign at the end of the road, he hit the brakes a little hard and reached his arm across me.

  “You make me feel like I’m still in high school,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

  “Is that a good thing?” My mind raced through tubes of Clearasil, bad hair, and sneers from the head cheerleader when she found out about my secret crush on her boyfriend.

  “It’s a good thing,” he said softly and chewed his bottom lip.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When we got to the restaurant, Alex dropped me off at the door and parked the truck. I stood in the lobby waiting for him. Two bluehaired ladies with handbags and shoulder pads sat in the corner. Twinkle lights from a fake ficus tree reflected in the polished wood walls.

  “Gladys,” a woman with a huge gold pleather purse said, loudly, to the woman sitting next to her on the bench, “did you see the Brandt boy drive up?” She was leaning in to Gladys like she was telling a secret.

  “The Brandt boy?” Gladys said, leaning back, equally loud.