Damn. That man was going to be the death of her. He totally was.
Cait’s hands shook, but not from shyness, as she put her top bun aside and did the duty with the jar, banging it on the bottom to get enough out.
“Would you like my fries?” she asked as she put the thing down.
“Maybe. You’re not going to eat them?”
“This burger alone is going to put me over the edge.”
“Gotta keep your strength up.”
Yeah. Wow. The way he said those words? It was like his mouth was against her throat and his body back on top of hers. In fact, every shift of his shoulders and blink of his eyes, all the syllables he spoke as well as the silences he kept, everything about him was a seductive reminder of where they had been … and where they would go again.
They were still not finished.
She did want to talk to him, though. Get to know this man who rocked her world and yet was still mostly a stranger.
“So … do you have a lot of family in town?” she said between bites.
“No. You?”
“My parents are out west. Middle of the country, actually.” Pause. “They’re missionaries. They leave the country a lot.” Another pause. “I went to college here—at Union. And stayed on because I got a job teaching. I’m an artist. An illustrator.”
She gave him the opportunity to pick up on the Union thing. When he didn’t, she said, “Where did you go to college?”
“Would it bother you if I hadn’t?”
She frowned, but then thought, maybe he’d dropped out and didn’t want to tell her? “No.”
He studied her for a time. “You know, I believe that.”
“College doesn’t automatically mean you’re smart, or going to be more successful. For a lot of people, it’s just four years of keggers and tailgates.”
“Not a bad way to pass the time.”
“True. But working your way into your twenties isn’t so bad, either.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Is that what you think I did?”
“You could settle the issue by just telling me.”
“Maybe the mystery is working in my favor.”
“You do not need any help, trust me.”
There was another pause, and then he smiled a little. “That so?”
“Don’t ask me to draw you a picture,” she muttered.
“You’re an artist, after all.”
“Not that kind.”
“Pity.”
When the conversation died out again, she pushed her plate away. She loved being with him; it was undeniable. But that was in the horizontal sense. With both of them vertical? She was less sure—although come on, first dates were always a little rocky.
Right?
“I went to Union, too,” he said gruffly.
As she looked up, he was focused on his fries, examining each one before making his choice and dragging it through a little pool of ketchup.
“What year?” she asked. When he answered, she shook her head. “That was just before my time, but we were almost there together. What did you major in?”
“I was premed.”
“Really?” Because she didn’t want him to know she had, in fact, Googled him.
“Surprise, huh. But I didn’t follow up on it, as you can tell.”
“Why not?”
“Things change.”
Their waitress appeared at the table. “You finished already, ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you,” Cait said. “Unless you’d like my fries?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He pushed his own mostly full plate away as well. “And I’m done, too. Love a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie, though. You want dessert?”
Cait shook her head. “No, thanks. But the coffee’s a great idea.”
“Bring two spoons.” Duke handed his plate up and over. “In case she gets curious for a bite.”
The waitress lingered a little, looking at Duke as if she herself might like a serving of him.
Okay, wow. For the first time in her life, Cait actually considered snarling at somebody.
“When can I see you again?” Duke said as soon as they were alone.
Cait crossed her arms and rested them on the table’s edge. From the corner of her eye, she measured a couple sitting at a table across the way. The pair of them were talking with animation, laughing, smiling, holding hands from time to time.
“Is that a no?” Duke prompted.
Jerking herself to attention, she cleared her throat and felt a little lonely for some reason. “Ah…”
“Look, I’m not much of a talker. I’m sorry.”
Part of her, the weak part, wanted to say or do anything that increased the likelihood of their being together again. Which, she supposed, would just mean putting the awkwardness aside and agreeing to meet tomorrow night—as well as stopping any attempt to turn this into something other than incredible, mind-blowing sex.
But she didn’t take the easy route out. “Is it lack of interest or lack of practice?”
He was quiet long enough for their coffee and his pie and two spoons to be brought over, along with the check.
As the waitress put the slip of paper facedown, she said in a husky voice, “It’s been my pleasure to serve you.”
Or had she said “service”?
“You’re welcome,” Cait said sharply.
Little Miss Double Entendre got flustered at that point. Which was kind of satisfying, actually. As was the way the woman beat feet out of Dodge.
“It’s not lack of interest.” Duke cut into his pie. “Not at all. I have contact with a lot of people, just not in a conversating kind of way.”
“You don’t have any roommates?”
“No one permanent, at any rate.”
She tried not to think of how many of them were like that waitress—failed. Also attempted not to dwell on the fact that he didn’t seem to be looking for anything long-term. But come on, what could she expect given the way they’d carried on?
“With my jobs?” he continued. “Not a lot of talking’s necessary. On one, I use chain saws and shovels in the warm months, snowplows and salt in the cold. The other? Yeah, I shut people up for a living.”
Forcing her mood out of the picture—because come on, they were both grown-ups—she refocused. “Maybe it’ll help if I ask questions.” When he shrugged, she took that as a yes. “What changed? When you decided to get out of college, that is?”